#pretty sure even kids who wanted their parents involved in their life would’ve told him to go fuck off

[thatrandomblogsays]

Lmao Zeus & Hades are such bad dads that they think Percy would rob a god for his deadbeat dad who owes Sally 12 years of back pay for child support…

These literal God-Kings sat down and were like hmmm Poisedon hasn’t talked to this child in years to avoid people knowing he ejaculated when he should’ve of evacuated… & has a shitty abusive stepdad now… that child would absolutely Mission Impossible Olympus for him! Let’s kill him :)

Hey dumbasses, my own deadbeat parent can barely get me to text them back, I ain’t stealing shit for them. As a member of Team Deadbeat Parent, that request would’ve caused 12 year old me to cuss out an adult for the first time

#they literally tried to mug a child based on this assumption #the fact your thunderbolt was stealable sounds like a you issue buddy #I’d be too embarrassed to admit to that #hades sent a MINOTAUR after him!!! #what the hell man??? #you’re LUCKY no one died!!! #pretty sure even kids who wanted their parents involved in their life would’ve told him to go fuck off #me? i didn’t care #so I wouldn’t probably yelled at them #you don’t even send me a card and you want me to commit a felony for you? #go to hell poisedon #the entire book series I wanted Percy to serve him with child support papers #EVEN AFTER he’s claimed he STILL doesn’t pay child support!!! #sally has to get the money from her murdered husband #low key was rooting for Kronos and the gods to destroy each other #deadbeat dad #mine #pjo #pjo series #hades #Zeus #posideon #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #Percy jackson

[electricbluebutterflies]

i'm not drunk enough for this. -kabby

Modern AU, PG-ish, also on ao3.

Chaperone the Debate Team retreat, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Well, actually it was more like “as the teacher nominally supervising this horror show of a student activity, you get to make sure these kids don’t kill each other in the middle of nowhere after one of the worst seasons in school history”, with undertones of “if they collectively decide to murder you, no one will blame them”, but…

Marcus is heading for a midlife crisis anyways. If this latest bit of administrative fuckery is what finally pushes him over the edge, so be it.

It’s not the kids he’s worried about, really. Well, he is worried about them, but most of them are graduating next month and legal adults on paper and most of those have been his problem for the past four years and well…

He knows he can’t exactly control which of the mothers decides to be the other chaperone, but why did it have to be that one?

Abby is the kind of nemesis you can only have in a smaller town, and Marcus does not say that lightly. She’s done everything in her power to make his life difficult since they met, and her marriage to one of his friends gave her so much opportunity until that accident, and the number of major life events that should’ve either outright stopped that woman or kept her too busy to terrorize him and yet somehow didn’t…

Unfortunately for him, Abby has a very blonde daughter who takes too much of her and was the only kid on the team to even make it to State this year, and Abby is the most involved debate team parent by a mile, so…

This is a circle of hell, Marcus thinks. Possibly multiple overlapping ones.

The kids don’t really need that much supervision. The kids are loose on a state park that hasn’t quite hit the normal tourist season for the year, and the only reason to have adults present is to make sure someone in the vicinity has the common sense to call 911 if needed. For intents and purposes, Marcus is stuck in the great outdoors for two and a half days with nothing to do except-

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

He’d assumed, at some point, that his counterpart would’ve correctly estimated the weekend’s actual responsibility level and brought a book or two to keep herself occupied, but apparently-

“You do realize we’re just here in case someone gets food poisoning from an undercooked hot dog,” Marcus mutters.

“Is that likely?”

“You do realize I’ve somehow gotten stuck with every questionably parented kid at the school who’s been kicked out of football or… I don’t know what the aggressive girls did before but-“

“If you are describing my daughter as questionably parented, I will-“

To be fair, the thought has crossed Marcus’s mind a few times, but his goal for the weekend is to not get murdered, so-

“At least you’re an involved parent,” he says instead. Might be better for everyone if she wasn’t, but-

“She didn’t want me to come, but the school basically told me that no one else wanted to do this and unless I was in the ICU…”

“Would you have taken a way out if you’d had one?”

Abby laughs. She’s pretty when she does that, impossible to look away from, he is trying to keep his eyes on her face but the neckline of her shirt is… she’s going to get bug bites in some sensitive areas, he can’t wait to see how venomous she gets when-

“Probably not.”

He’s not that lucky, more like.

“The trip does end early if someone breaks a bone. Anything less than that…”

“Broken bones are nothing. Clarke was a Girl Scout for a bit, you wanna see bad parenting in the middle of nowhere…”

“Don’t tell me you volunteered for this hoping you’d get to practice your field medic skills.”

“No, I just thought you were out of your mind for taking this bunch of idiots to a remote location and letting them run wild and-“

“They had a bad season, the administration wanted to do something, the budget was minimal…”

“And that’s enough to justify that some sixteen-year-old is going to get poison ivy somewhere awkward and make it my problem?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a terrible person.”

That probably shouldn’t sound like a compliment from her, but-

“You did technically volunteer.”

“I’m being forced to use vacation days and if I stay alone in that house all weekend…”

“So trying to make me miserable had nothing to do with it?”

“The idea barely crossed my mind.”

He doesn’t believe her, but their sparring matches are so much more fun with an audience and they don’t have one right now, and-

“If you say so.”

#ebf writes fic #kabby #queue

[cyber-streak-extra]

So, I decided to make another quick little fic involving the ITP: Happy Ending AU by @maraariana01 and this time, it’s got Funtime Freddy from Count The Ways, aswell :)

Title: A Bear, A Child, & Said Bear’s Way Of Breaking, Entering, & Capturing

The animatronic bear stared out at the house, a smirk plastered right on his face. He’d been around the area for quite some time—after simply stumbling across it after wandering around after leaving the old man’s garage.

He already knew who he wanted to get this time—the young boy, Oswald. He’d already been planning everything... he’d just been waiting for the perfect moment.

Funtime Freddy sighed. When it did come down to taking the kid, he would’ve preferred to be able to use his storage tank—but, thanks to Silly Millie, when she entered, she caused it to get stuck.

It was something that the bear only discovered after he’d counted, gotten rid of his boredom, and fulfilled Chilly Milly’s wish. It was all still a win-win in his eyes. But he wished she hadn’t gotten it stuck. No matter what he tried, it stayed that way.

Oh well, Funtime Freddy thought. I can still manage.

...

Oswald sat at his bed, drawing some sketches. His phone was in his lap, texting Ben—although his friend hadn’t texted back yet. He could hear Jinx purring from where she lay on the ground.

He was waiting for Spring Bonnie to finish up with some chores—as the rabbit was going to drive him to go pick up Ben. Through his closed door, he could hear the vacuum.

Oswald was glad that everything was normal again—...well, as normal as life could be after he went through the ball pit, and obtained a third parent in Spring Bonnie.

Everything else was still pretty normal. School had started back up, he’d been visiting and chatting with Ben more—who had returned from his little vacation not too long ago. Spring Bonnie, Jackie, and Thomas all seemed to be comfortable with each other.

He knew it was something that took time getting adjusted to. Oswald was happy that it went smoother than he had thought it would when he talked to the two of them, explaining little parts of what had happened that day.

...Even now, he had never outright explained the ball pit. Sure, he told them both that he found Spring Bonnie at Jeff’s Pizza, but Oswald never explained the time traveling part. He didn’t even know how.

Click.

Oswald paused. What was that? He frowned. It sounded like it was coming from behind him. His window? Before he could turn, he started to hear the sound of hissing.

“Jinxie?” He glanced down at the cat, who was backing up slowly—she looked on edge, and her hissing didn’t stop. “What’s the m-“

Oswald’s eyes widened when he was suddenly grabbed by a cold, metallic, and somewhat broken arm. A gasp had escaped him when he was lifted up, but he could tell it was muffled.

His eyes darted around, trying to get a full look, and what had grabbed him was obviously an animatronic—but not the one that he was used to seeing, or liked seeing. Just like the arm, this animatronic was damaged, and he seemed to be a bear.

The animatronic bear chuckled, although it was obvious that he was trying to keep himself quiet. He was just barely succeeding. “Hello, Little Ocelot!~” He whispered—or tried to, voice glitching.

Barely managing to see anything else behind the large bear, Oswald noticed his window. It was fully opened, but it looks like some parts of it had been broken in the process.

Oswald wanted to get away. He wanted away from this bear. He could feel himself moving around... but it wasn’t working. The bear’s grip was strong. What did he want?

Oswald didn’t want to find out.

Could he yell for Spring Bonnie? He knew he sounded muffled... but what if the bunny still heard him? How good was the bunny’s hearing? He didn’t know.

For a moment, Oswald thought about trying to call someone—but that was quickly thrown out the window when he realized that he couldn’t. His phone, originally in his lap before he was grabbed, was now abandoned on the floor.

He could only think that, if he could grab it, that he would either end up messaging Ben—who seemed to have texted back now—or his parents—who were out on a date. What would they do?

“Squirmy one, aren’t ya, Little Ocelot?” The bear chuckled again, still seemingly trying to make sure that he remained quiet enough. Oswald glanced around, eyes spotting the bear’s stomach. What was leaking out of it...?

...

Spring Bonnie had been vacuuming the whole house. He’d decided to do some chores a couple of hours, and then he planned on driving with his son and Ben. He’d promised to do so after he was finished.

He was in the living room—which was the last area he needed to get done. Earlier, Oswald’s room had been where he had started, and he went from there.

Spring Bonnie’s ears twitched, and he paused. He thought he heard something. Was it just the vacuum? It was loud. He’d almost forgotten that he had the TV on, too—a rom-com, which he was glancing up at and watching bits of as he did chores.

He continued vacuuming for a second or two... but then the bunny’s ears twitched again. The bunny was hearing something. It wasn’t coming from the vacuum or the TV, though. It was... what was it?

The bunny pressed a button, turning the vacuum off, and setting it carefully on the ground. The TV’s volume was quite low, so he didn’t need to turn it further down—he’d mainly been relying on the subtitles earlier.

Hissing. The bunny heard hissing. And... talking? Talking. It was a little distant and somewhat muffled from where he was, but he knew that’s what it had to be.

The hissing had to be Jinx—he’d grown accustomed to that noise. But the talking? It wasn’t Oswald. It wasn’t Jackie, or Thomas. It wasn’t Ben. He could tell that. He knew all of their voices well... but this wasn’t any of them.

Son? Spring Bonnie frowned in concern. He could feel his ears start to lower. He should go check on him. He hoped that it was nothing—he hoped that nothing was wrong—nothing was going on with his son.

Moving the vacuum out of his path, the bunny started walking down the hallway to reach his son’s room.

...

When he opened the door, Spring Bonnie nearly stepped on Jinx’s tail—but spotted the hissing cat before that, and stepped out of the way. Once out of her way, the cat ran out.

He watched her leave, confused, before turning back around and looked ahead. That confusion quickly turned to horror from the sight in front of him.

Funtime Freddy, beside the bed, with his son squirming around in the bear’s grasp. Both’s attention were turned to Spring Bonnie when he had entered the room.

Spring Bonnie! Oswald felt relieved.

“Oh, why hello!” Funtime Freddy knew of him. Knew of how the bunny came from the pit—pretended to be Thomas—before truly joining the family. He knew how he was essentially a third parent.

Oswald thought he heard a... growl?

Spring Bonnie took a step forward, and Funtime Freddy started moving, too—towards the direction of Oswald’s door. “I wouldn’t get too close, bun-bun!” He snickered.

The bunny stared. “I have plans,” He started, still slowly making his way to Oswald’s door—the smirk remaining on his face. “You wouldn’t want your Little Ocelot to go...” He used his arm without the hand, seemingly doing a ‘slicing’ motion around his own neck.

“But, maybe it would be fun to make you count the ways with me, bun-bun...” He laughed, smirk growing. He wondered what Spring Bonnie would choose. He also wondered what the kid would want. But, he had different plans.

He was here to get the kid and leave, before resuming everything. Silly Milly shouldn’t have gotten his storage tank stuck. If not for her, this would be a little easier. But, he had fun with her.

Oswald noticed how Spring Bonnie was beginning to leak. There was always little bits dripping, but massive leaking usually seemed to happen, he noticed, when the bunny was angry or sad.

Teeth. Oswald and Funtime Freddy saw all of the teeth stored in the bunny after he unhinged his jaw. Angry. Oswald hadn’t seen him like that since the night he went back to Jeff’s Pizza to get his dad.

“Oh, you don’t like that, bun-bun?” Funtime Freddy giggled.

Spring Bonnie’s hands bawled into fists. Just as the bunny started to get closer, the bear ran out of Oswald’s bedroom door. Spring Bonnie followed.

He entered the living room, looking around—he didn’t see Funtime Freddy or his son yet. He could feel himself leaking further.

Just as the bunny took another step, he heard a glitchy little laughter, followed by footsteps, and the feeling of something hitting him from behind—it felt... electrifying. Shocking.

...

Spring Bonnie blinked. He was leaning against one of the walls in the living room. He wiped at some of the liquid agony and remnant, before hurriedly looking around. Son...! What had the bear done?

Standing up fully, the bunny hurriedly began looking all over the house. He went back to his son’s room, checking under the bed, and in the closet, before moving to the rest of the house.

Oswald... Spring Bonnie could feel himself shaking as he kept checking the house. His ears were lowered. He could feel so much liquid leaking from his body—eyes especially.

As he reached the last room that he had to check, Thomas and Jackie’s room, Spring Bonnie leaned against the wall as his body started shaking further. How could he let this happen? How could he let his son get taken?

What was going to happen...?

Son... I’m so sorry...

He couldn’t find anything in the house—no hints or traces of where Funtime Freddy could possibly be with his son. Wherever the bear went with Oswald, neither of them were in the house anymore.

Spring Bonnie made a decision. He left through the front door, hurriedly looking around outside—he spent an hour or two doing so. That’s what it felt like.

The bunny was leaking everywhere. He checked the front yard, and the back yard—every area near the house, and even somewhat far away—in hopes that he’d find any sort of clue to where his son and the bear could be.

He found nothing.

Spring Bonnie made his way back home. When he got back, he’d been planning to recheck everywhere. But, as he passed the front door, the bunny fell to his knees.

Jinx meowed sadly from where she lay somewhere in the living room.

He should’ve been able to stop Funtime Freddy. He should’ve been able to stop him from taking his son. The bunny should’ve been able to save his son. Had he failed his son...? What did Funtime Freddy want with him?

Horrible possibilities started throwing themselves into the bunny’s mind—which he attempted to ignore, but... Funtime Freddy could do anything. What if he had already done something? How was he going to find his son?

Spring Bonnie heard the front door open.

...

“Oswald, we’re-“ Thomas started, closing the door behind him and his wife—although he stopped when he spotted Spring Bonnie in the middle of the living room.

He was collapsed on his knees, shaking. Even if the bunny wasn’t facing them, Jackie could tell that he was leaking... something. (What was it called? She’d never asked. Did Spring Bonnie know?)

Most of the leaking, she noticed, was coming from his eyes—it was pouring out like a waterfall. Although she noticed it coming from other parts of him, too. Jackie frowned.

“Spring Bonnie?” She gently called out, approaching the bunny carefully. Thomas stayed where he was, but looked around.

“Spring Bonnie,” The nurse knelt beside the animatronic. “What happened...? What’s wrong?”

The leaking bunny turned slightly to look at Jackie. Messily searching through his pockets of his coat, Spring Bonnie eventually pulled out his note pad and pen.

Jackie and Thomas, who moved a little closer, both watched as the bunny started writing. Although, whatever was leaking ended up hitting the notepad paper. So, the only words that the two could fully read were: “Oswald” “Freddy” and “Captured”.

Spring Bonnie messily flipped to another page on the notepad a second later, and sloppily wrote something else—this time, only two words. But it got the point across. “Son taken.”

“W-What...?” Jackie whispered, horrified, her eyes widening.

He could vaguely hear Thomas say something, too, followed by quick footsteps—from the corner of his eyes, Thomas seemed to be making his way to his son’s room.

Jackie watched her husband for a single moment, before refocusing on the shaking bunny in front of her. “Spring Bonnie, w-“

She was cut off when the bunny moved forward, hugging her—the hug was tight, but he wasn’t hurting Jackie, either. Blinking as her eyes felt watery, Jackie hugged the bunny back.

Jackie had never seen him like this. She rubbed the bunny’s back, closing her eyes. Oswald... please, be okay. What had happened? Why would anyone want to take her son...?

He should’ve stopped the bear before he escaped, Spring Bonnie had thought. He should’ve done... anything. Why did this have to happen? Oswald didn’t deserve anything that the bear may do.

He only hoped that he could get to his son somehow before Funtime Freddy went through with anything...

#Story #Fic #Into The Pit #ITP: Happy Ending AU #<After dropping angst #Spring Bonnie #Oswald #Jackie #Thomas #CTW Funtime Freddy #I was writing this while it’s late #So I hope it’s still good #Fnaf #Anubis’s Chatter #Styx’s Chatter #Cyber’s Chatter #I had a plan to post this and another quick thing #But I think I’ll post the other tomorrow #Still unsure if the way I’m writing them is good though #I’d like to think it is

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Recess sobs and bedtime resolutions

Pairing: fem!Reader x Spencer

Request: Ok so the reader is a psychologist and is married to spencer and they have a 5 year old daughter who gets in trouble for punching a kid because they picked on her because they didn't beleive her dad was in the fbi If that makes sense any who if you don't write this i get it I just want to see speancers reaction

Trigger warnings: bullying, physical violence. (let me know if i forgot something)

Category: fluff, slight angst.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it. The daughter sounds a bit older than 5, in my head she’s in the early stages of elementary school. Let me know what you think about it! I’d be glad to receive some feedback. (Btw I hurt my own feelings writing this, you can’t even imagine...)

You were in your office, a typical Tuesday afternoon until you heard your office phone ring once more. You held up your finger to make your client pause what they were saying, you picked up the phone only to hang up.

“I apologise for the inconvenience. Now where were we ?” you said trying to get your client comfortable again despite the ringing. As she was about to speak up again, your cellphone rang, Spencer’s name lit up your screen and that’s when you were starting to get concerned.

“I’m so sorry I have to get that.” You said exiting the office to take the call. You were happy to hear your significant other’s voice nonetheless you knew he wouldn’t normally call you during working hours.

“Hi darling, is everything okay ?”

“No, not really. The school called, there’s an emergency.” he responded wrapping his scarf around his neck as he was making his way to the elevator.

“What happened ?” you asked getting more and more worried.

“She punched a classmate in the face. Can you believe it ?!” he pressed the button 0 waving goodbye to his coworkers.

“What ? Our daughter? Jane ? Are you sure it’s not her evil twin ?”

“Eviler twin you mean ? No offense, Y/n, but if she had one, I’m pretty sure you would remember…”

“Alright, I’ll tell my secretary to cancel all my appointments for the day. I’ll meet you there.”

“Love you, bye.”

“Love you too.” You answered before hanging up. You made it a little bit of a rule to yourself to never say ‘goodbye’ to him because you thought that if you did it may increase the chances of you never seeing him again. You knew it was a bit silly but with all those times he was close to death, you’d believe in any superstition if that meant he would get home safe.

After taking care of your client and letting your secretary handle the rest, you hurried out of your office to drive to your daughter’s elementary school.

You pushed the interphone button, once you were allowed entrance you walked to the principal’s office. You softly knocked, when the door opened it showed Spencer sitting in a chair right across the desk, next to it was an empty chair meant for you.

“I’m sorry, I came as I soon as I could.” you apologized.

“Well, I assume you’re Jane’s mother. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Principal Walker.” he greeted shaking your hand. As you sat down, Spencer gave you his best polite white smile.

“Do you know what you’re here for ?” he inquired.

“You said our daughter was involved in a conflict with a student...” you answered.

“Your daughter punched a student in the face.” He said bluntly.

“Right…”

“Are you sure it’s Jane ?” Spencer asked still struggling to believe it.

“Wait until you see her knuckles...”

Spencer put his face in his hands in defeat, you rubbed his shoulder to bring him comfort.

“What happened exactly ?” you asked.

“Well, it was during the 10AM break. Jane went out to play with her classmates when a boy started arguing with her. Next thing we hear is a scream, the boy is on the floor crying.”

You and Spencer both looked at each other with an immense look of stupor.

“The boy, did he bully her ?” Spencer asked trying to find some innocence in the sweet child of his.

“Not that we know of.” answered the principal.

“Is he okay though ?” you questioned.

“Yes, just a minor injury. He went back home.”

You nodded, “So what happens next ?”

“We are giving her a warning but the next time something like this happens there will be harsher consequences than a simple punishment. Understood ?”

“Yes. we understand. Thank you for your time, sir.” you said as you rose up from your chair. Spencer and you both exited the room finding your daughter in the waiting lounge looking guilty as ever. You saw Spencer’s face look puzzled and hostile. To torture your daughter with even more guilt you told her to ride back home with her dad which she did not love but couldn’t protest.

Spencer hardly spoke to Jane the entire drive. He was dry, so much it looked like he ignored her. Jane was desperate to get him to talk to her.

“Please, dad. Don’t be mad at me!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” those words he pronounced cut like a knife. You knew that by seeing her dad’s reaction she would become aware of the gravity of her actions. And he actually wasn’t mad, at least not until he saw her pouting face. He loved her too much to be angry.

“Okay but can you just talk to me!” she whined.

“Oh we will, back home with your mom.”

That car ride lasted longer for Jane than usual. No music, no anecdotes nor laughs, just plain silence and introspection while gazing at the landscape.

Your house was in the suburbs near a forest, Spencer had all sorts of scientific arguments as to why living near nature was beneficial but you just loved the paysage before your eyes when taking your morning coffee. The location was perfect; in nature which means less pollution, noise and lower criminal rates yet a short car ride from the city which was full of cultural spots and with high quality education.

Jane tried to run up the stairs in hope to avoid her parents’ correction but was interrupted by your strict toned voice; “Not so fast, young lady.”

She shut her eyes stopping dead in her tracks, she lifted her stuffed animal and said to it “It was nice knowing you, fluffy.” She then turned around and sat on the couch.

Spencer was pacing around, “Why did you do it ?” He asked his daughter his voice slightly higher than before. She started melting in tears which truly pained him. You walked up to her, as you were sat on the couch next to her you started stroking her arm and drying her tears.

“It’s okay. We’re just trying to understand why you did that. There’s no way you would’ve done it without a reason.” you told her.

“Jeremy kept making fun of me…” she struggled to get out whimpering.

“How long has he been making fun of you ?” Spencer asked.

“Since Valentine’s day when everyone was exchanging cards but my box was empty.” You glanced at Spencer in shock of how long you hadn’t known your daughter was getting bullied, silently suffering.

“Honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through this.” you reassured her kissing her cheek and running your hands through her hair. “But what happened exactly that made you punch him ?”

“He made fun of dad, he wouldn’t believe he was in the FBI.” She answered tilting her head up. “I asked him to stop but he wouldn’t so I defended myself.” she affirmed seeming not so guilty anymore. You unwrapped your arms from her giving her a frown.

“That’s not how you deal with problems.” Spencer said sitting on the low table across the couch.

“Yeah, you could’ve talked to us first but you didn’t even try. You know you can tell us everything ?” You backed him up.

“I know but I thought I could deal with this problem on my own. You guys always seem so good at it. And I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

You glanced at Spencer both slightly smiling at each other.

“If there’s one thing I learned from my job at the FBI is that violence is never the answer. It’s only justifiable if it’s legitimate defence; when you life is in danger.”

“Dad, do you still love me ?” she asked watching her feet swinging on the edge of the couch.

“Of course, I love you. I always will, no matter what.” he responded taking hold of her hand. “Okay?” She nodded. She didn’t seem to understand that punching someone is wrong. You needed to have a talk with Spencer;

“Now go to your room and do your homework, we’ll talk punishment tomorrow morning.” You said.

“But-“ she protested.

“No buts, go to your room.” You ordered.

You joined Spencer on the couch, he looked completely defeated. “Hey, are you alright ?” You asked him while taking a seat next to him. “Yes.” He answered a bit too quickly. “I mean…No…Not really.” You knew exactly why he was feeling like this. “It’s not your fault, Spence.” you reassured him playing with his hair.

“This whole time…And I didn’t know she was struggling. What kind of father am I ?”

“I come home every night and I didn’t know about this. It’s not because of your job, it’s not because of us. I’m blaming the school, here. They’re the ones who are supposed to prevent bullying from happening.”

He rummaged his hair with his hands whilst his elbows rested on his knees.

“Plus it’s a good sign, she doesn’t get along with kids her age…” you said slightly smirking.

“How?!” Spencer asks slightly irritated due to his public middle school flashbacks.

“It’s a sign of high intellectual potential. Her emotional age is too advanced for kids her age to understand, they tend to be too insensitive for her. She believes animals and inanimate objects have emotions and that they are intelligent. She talks to her stuffed animal like it’s a pet. She took the pepperonis out of her pizza! Also she has an enormous amount of creativity and she’s highly sensitive to her surroundings. Have you seen how she profiled your every move and suddenly her emotions followed ? Just like you she’s protective of the ones she loves. She only punched that kid because he wasn’t exactly talking highly of you…”

“So you’re saying…”

“Our daughter could be a genius.”

“As mother as daughter.” he complimented with a smirk.

“Oh come on we know who’s the genius here!” you said slapping his shoulder playfully.

You both chuckled. You kept talking for at least half an hour to come up with a plan you both agreed to. It’s not good for a child to watch their parents disagree.

~slight time lapse~

An hour after dinner, you went up to your daughter’s bedroom as it was her bedtime. You leaned on the door frame admiring Spencer, sat next to Jane on her bed, reading a story to her about conflict to teach her what to do in the type of situations she got in. He learned that from you since you were a psychologist. He admired how resourceful and clever you were. He couldn’t be more proud to have you as his significant other and the mother of his child. Your foot made a cracking noise on the hard wood floor which caught Jane attention.

“Mommy! Come!” she exclaimed shaking her little hands.

“What’s up?” you ask sitting next to the bed.

“Me and dad were reading this book you got me and now i understand. I’m sorry for not coming to you first. I just didn’t like what they said about dad.”

“Honey, it doesn’t matter what people think of you. Seeking validation from people can be so unhealthy. If you keep bottling up your emotions you’re going to explode like a bomb and that’s no good.”

“Can you forgive me, mommy ?”

“Of course. You’re still growing, as long as you learn from your mistakes I’m confident you’re going to be alright.” You answered squeezing her hand. Spencer watched in awe, it reminded him how in love with you he is.

“Yes, please don’t ever do that again!” he said a bit too quickly with a high pitched voice that made you all burst in laughter.

“Alright, you should get some sleep.” you told her giving her a kiss on the cheek and tucking her in; “Good night, my love.”

Spencer kissed her temple and set aside the little book he was reading to her wishing her good night as well. You walked out switching the lights off. As you walked down the stairs you asked Spencer to stop in his tracks pointing your finger up; Jane was talking to her stuffed animal. You both had to muffle your laughs. The future looked bright.

#criminal minds #fluff #imagine #spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #y/n #angst #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #spencer reid fic #cbs #spencer x reader #fem!reader

[blossom-hwa]

You Look So Lovely, Darling (I’ll Love You for Lifetimes) - |BaL|

Kinda feels weird to be writing the proposal scene so early, but like? This drabble series is all out of order so whatever lmao :) enjoy some sweet nervous channie who just wants his proposal to be perfect <3

(and again, thanks to @deathbykpopboys​ for helping me work out this scene!! I LITERALLY owe you the world if you ever have ANY requests I'll be willing to write them :D)

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, slice of life, single parent!au

Triggers: cursing

Word Count: 2.9k

Chan just wants to give you a picture perfect proposal - why is that so hard?

SKZ Masterlist | Breathe, and Live | Touching Stars (TBZ teacher!au)

Proposing, Chan comes to learn, is no easy task.

It looks so simple in movies. One of the couple pulls a ring out of their pocket, kneels down in front of their significant other, and pops the question. There might be tears, but it always ends in pure joy.

Movies make it seem like a formula, a simple algorithm that Chan just has to follow in order to get this proposal right. In real life, though, Chan thinks he’s about to lose his mind.

Because movies don’t demonstrate how to act in front of an older brother very protective of his sister. They don’t show him how to talk to his children or hers, how best to ask them if they’re all right with gaining new siblings and a new parent. They don’t give him insight on how to pick the perfect god damn ring, something maybe reminiscent of the promise rings you both wear on chains around your necks, but also not too similar because what if you think he isn’t being creative?

And the worst thing is, they don’t tell him how to pick the perfect moment. They don’t tell him where to go, what ambience is right, whether or not little kids in the room will ruin the timing.

At this point, just thinking about proposing turns Chan into a stammering mess. Even though you’ve discussed marriage before, you haven’t made any large moves beyond that. Jisung and Felix have been calling you Mama for a bit, but Hyunjin has only just started calling him Papa, and mostly on accident (though each time he does, Chan’s heart fills with this overwhelming happiness that brings tears to his eyes). What if you decide now isn’t the right time? What if you decide you want to wait a little longer?

What if you decide Chan isn’t the right person for you?

That’s a question that plagues Chan every time his mind even brushes on the topic of marriage.

He loves you, though, he loves you so much. And he knows you’re the right partner for him, even if in the end you might decide he isn’t the right partner for you.

Patience, he tells himself, taking a deep breath. He really should be working on this new track, but instead, he’s staring into his hands, trying to map out the perfect proposal. Not too fast, Chan. Take it in steps.

The only problem is, step one scares him out of his wits.

. . . . .

Chan is a full year older than Minho, and then some. By all rights, he’s the elder, and he shouldn’t be as terrified of the younger man as he is.

Minho’s a scary person, though. He’s driven, concentrated, focused – it’s how he’s gotten so far as both a dancer and a father. Chan knows he’s hardworking, but Minho is just as much, if not more, than he is.

And he’s very protective of you.

(When Minho found out you two were dating, he told Chan, verbatim, “I won’t hesitate to take you to international waters, chop up your body, and toss the parts overboard if you hurt my sister.” Just thinking about the blank expression Minho had on when he spoke those words is almost enough to make Chan lose his nerve.)

But here he is, standing just outside of Minho’s studio, ready to knock. He’s sweating, not because it’s hot or anything (it’s actually pretty cold because Minho is weird like that), but just out of sheer nervousness. His heart feels like it’s pounding a mile a minute.

Oh, God. Chan raises his hand again to rap on the door. Stop thinking. Just do it.

He knocks.

A few seconds later, the dancer opens the door in all his sweaty glory. “Chan?”

“Yeah.” Chan tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it just looks like a grimace. “Can I ask you something?”

A glint comes into Minho’s eyes. “Of course, come on in.” He opens the door widely, smiling in a distinctly cat-like fashion that is literally scrambling Chan’s brain.

Why does he look like he knows what Chan’s about to ask?

The door swings shut with a soft but audible click, and with the noise goes Chan’s last chance to run away.

“So?” Minho looks over once Chan’s inside the room. He’s enjoying this way too much.

There’s no way he doesn’t know what I want to ask.

“I… um, so I’ve been dating your sister for a few years,” Chan starts.

Minho actually snorts. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Chan can feel the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Right. Um, I just wanted your approval for – I’m planning to – well, with your permission, of course –”

The smirk on Minho’s face only grows with each stuttering word that comes out of Chan’s mouth. And in all honesty, he actually has no idea what he’s saying. All of the sentences he rehearsed in his head before coming here seem to have completely flown out of his brain, and from Minho’s expression, he just sounds like an idiot.

He keeps going anyway, because nervous Chan doesn’t always make the best decisions to make himself look good.

“Well – um, look, I just really love her a lot.” Chan looks down with the admission, knowing he’s definitely rambled too much already, but he needs to get on with it and ask the stupid question. “I… wantedtoaskifyouwouldbeokaywithmeaskingtomarryher.”

Minho leans forward, eyes innocently wide. “Sorry, I didn’t get that, can you repeat what you said again?”

Lee Minho, you are a grade-A asshole.

Face burning, Chan clears his throat. “I wanted to ask if you would be okay with me asking to marry her. Your sister, I mean.”

Silence. Minho leaves him in silence for five whole seconds which feel more like five millennia. Chan thinks he’s going to crumble into dust on the floor out of terror and embarrassment.

“Do you have a ring?” Minho finally asks.

Chan’s cheeks burn redder. “Not… not yet.”

“So you’ll need help picking one, then?” The dancer raises one perfect eyebrow.

“… Yes?”

“Beautiful. I’ll be there whenever you need me.” Minho smiles. “Anything else you wanted to ask?”

Chan just stands there, dumbfounded. “So… is your answer yes?”

The smile immediately drops off of Minho’s face, replaced by an eye roll and a sigh. “Yes, Bang Chan, you idiot.” He punches Chan’s shoulder. “No one’s ever going to fully deserve Y/N, but you’re the closest I think anyone’s going to get. You really thought I’d say no?”

Rubbing his arm, Chan smiles sheepishly. “You can’t blame me for being nervous.”

“What? Nervous, around me?” Minho laughs, sharp and loud. Even though Chan knows he’s teasing, it’s still a bit frightening. “Never would’ve thought that.”

“You’re just proving my point,” Chan says.

“No, I’m not.” Minho smiles, close-lipped and slit-eyed. It’s terrifying. “Now, off you go. And don’t come back unless you need help picking a ring!”

It takes Chan five minutes of sitting in the hallway, garnering strange looks from several people passing by, before his legs are stable enough to take him back to his own studio. Heart still pounding, he mentally crosses a line through step one.

Next comes step two. Chan purses his lips. Step two is a bit less scary than step one (mostly because it involves children and not Lee Minho), but no less challenging.

Well, he got through Minho. Chan sighs. He just has to hope that the kids will be as receptive to the idea of a new parent as Minho was to a brother-in-law.

. . . . .

The kids know that you and Chan are at least, in some shape or form, together. They might not understand the nuances, like how you’re technically dating but don’t always refer to yourselves as boyfriend and girlfriend (because it just feels so much deeper than that, somehow), but they understand that you two “like” each other (Jisung pretends to vomit every time he hears the word “love,” so Chan just uses the word “like” to avoid that) and thus live together.

They love it, most of the time. Hyunjin was a little put out when he found out he would have to share a room with two other boys, but after Minho moved out and Hyunjin realized he would get his uncle’s old (and slightly bigger) room, he happily accepted the new plan. Jisung and Felix were mostly just happy to live with their best friend.

(Children, Chan just thinks. They’re so easy and so hard to please.)

Of course, there are difficulties. Jisung’s sensitive and has more than once broken down when he thinks Chan isn’t giving him enough attention with a new boy in the household. Felix’s tantrums are rarer, but they exist, and Hyunjin is still getting used to sharing his mom with someone else.

They’re a family, though, a messy, mostly happy family that can pull together at the end of the day and whisper “I love yous” to each other before bedtime. And that’s something Chan values more than anything in the world.

Which is why obtaining his kids’ approval for officially tying the knot is something so important to him.

He gathers them together one day in the apartment with the promise of watching a cartoon show after he asks them something. Three pairs of big eyes stare up at him from the couch, and Chan feels his heart melting with love and racing with anxiety.

Chan takes a breath. “Do you know what marriage is?”

“Yeah!” Jisung pipes up. “It’s when a girl and a boy get together and kiss!”

The laughter spills out of Chan’s mouth before he can even think. “Well, not quite, Jisung,” he chokes out, trying to stifle his remaining giggles. “It’s when two people who love each other very much get together officially. Marriage can be between a woman and a man, a man and a man, or a woman and a woman. Any two people can get married.”

Three small heads bob their heads in understanding.

“I wanted to ask you three if you would be okay with me marrying Y/N.” Chan looks each of the boys in the eye. “Is it?”

Felix nods quickly. “Yes!”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “Are we still going to live together?”

Chan smiles. “Yes, Sungie.”

The other twin nods. “Okay!”

Hyunjin’s mouth pouts slightly. “Will I have to call you Papa?”

A little piece of Chan’s heart breaks, but he tries not to show it. “No, of course not, Hyunjin.” He smiles as brightly as he can. “You can keep calling me Channie or Uncle Channie or whatever you want. You don’t have to call me Papa if you don’t want to.”

Hyunjin’s round, dark eyes gaze into his with a solemnity Chan honestly didn’t know toddlers could have. “Do you want me to call you Papa?”

Oh, fuck.

What the hell does Chan say to that?

With a sigh, he decides to be honest. “I would love it if you did, Hyunjin, but like I said, you don’t have to. I’ll never force you to do something you really don’t want to.”

There are a few seconds of silence, then Hyunjin nods. “Okay. You can marry my Mama.”

A weight lifts itself off of Chan’s chest and he smiles, freer this time. “Thank you, kids. One more thing – don’t tell Y/N about this!” He looks into each of their eyes, trying to convey how serious he is but in a fun way. “It’s a secret, okay?”

“Like a spy mission?” Jisung bounces in excitement.

The smile on his face widens. “Yes, Sungie. Like a spy mission.” He looks at the other two boys. “Do you promise? Pinky promise?” He holds out his pinkie.

The three resulting shouts of “YES!” make Chan hope their neighbors won’t come knocking. But even if they did, Chan thinks, he wouldn’t care.

He’d go to the ends of the earth to defend these three kids, after all.

. . . . .

Step three goes by in a flash. Out of sheer anxiety, Chan actually takes a full day off from work and calls Minho for help in finding the perfect ring.

Miraculously, he finds something within his budget range – a silver band with a small diamond set in the center. It’s simple but elegant, and the diamond glints beautifully in the sunlight. Really, the ring matches the way Chan often finds himself summing up your existence.

So only the last step remains: the actual proposal.

Looking back, Chan has no idea why he thought each of the other steps was so stressful. This is pure stress, he thinks, waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. Should he plan something extravagant? Or should he just go with the flow? When is the perfect time, anyway? What constitutes “perfect” in your mind? In his?

Minho just tells him to wait for the moment he thinks is “right.” But what the hell does “right” even mean?

“You’ll figure it out.” The dancer gives Chan a bright grin, patting his shoulder. “And if you don’t, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

Chan just puts his face in his hands and screams.

. . . . .

When Chan proposes, the sky is dark. The kids are already tucked in bed, and you’re sitting on the couch, leaning into his shoulder as you mindlessly scroll through your phone.

Absently strumming his guitar, Chan smiles down at your face, illuminated by your phone’s glow. As if sensing him staring, you look up as well. “Sing me something?” you murmur.

“Of course, love.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “What song?”

“Anything you choose,” you reply. “Anything.”

Chan thinks for a moment, then starts strumming the instrument.

Softly, with mood, tightly hug her

Use it once a day, every day…

When your eyes meet hers, smile.

The characteristic chords of one of your favorite songs make you relax even further into Chan’s body, a smile blooming across your face. He badly wants to stop playing and just kiss you good and full, but he keeps his fingers strumming the guitar.

Let her breathe under a different sky, a different wind,

Sometimes, kiss her without a plan…

Chan almost stops playing.

Without a plan.

He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t have any proper plan on how he’s going to pull the little box out of his pocket and ask the question. But now…

Maybe he’s got an idea.

The final chords die away, and Chan finally gets his long-awaited kiss when you sit up lethargically, pressing your lips to his softly. “Are you awake enough for one more?” he whispers when you pull away.

“Mm, one more.” You nod happily, snuggling back into his side. “Then sleep.”

Chan takes a breath. One chance, Chan. This is your chance.

His fingers start strumming a song very familiar by now to him and the boys. From the way your eyes light up, you recognize it too.

It doesn’t have words. It’s just a collection of guitar chords, hastily arranged in a sweet, rough melody. In the track version, it would have piano, but because Chan only has two hands, he has to make do with just the strings of the guitar.

It’s the first song he ever wrote for his twins, the song he created that day so many years ago when they weren’t even born, when they were still kicking in their mother’s stomach. They think of it as their family song, the song he plays when the twins are sad, when they can’t get to sleep, or when they just want to hear something nice.

The last strains of the song fade away and Chan looks at you to see a tear glittering on your cheek. “You play that when the boys are sad,” is all you say. “It’s your family song.”

Chan smiles softly. “But you’re part of the family too.”

When he pulls out the box, your eyes widen. “Chan –”

“Shh.” He presses a finger gently to your lips. “Y/N, the past few years you’ve been with me have been some of the best of my life, and I can’t ever thank you enough for staying with me all this time.” There’s a tear welling up in Chan’s eye, but he blinks it away. “I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, if you would marry me.”

There’s a moment of silence that nearly gives Chan a heart attack. What if you say no?

“You – you stupid romantic sap.” The tears are really sliding down your cheeks now, but your mouth is smiling wide. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Chan. I’ll marry you.”

Chan can’t speak as he slides the ring onto your finger with trembling hands. Throat choked, he can only pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder as your tears soak his shirt. “I love you so much,” you whisper.

He pulls back just enough for to see your eyes sparkling with love, so much love. Your touch intoxicates him, with your fingers pressing gently against his skin as you press your lips to his in a sweet, sweet kiss.

Yes, he thinks. You’re the right partner for him.

The perfect partner for him.

Teary-eyed, he smiles. “I love you too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 congratulations for the newly engaged couple!!!)

#inkidz #destinyverse #kpopscape #stray kids #skz #stray kids chan #chan #skz chan #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz scenarios #stray kids chan scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids chan x reader #skz chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #fluff #triggers #cursing #single parent!au #breathe and live #you look so lovely darling (I'll love you for lifetimes) #scriptura-delirus

[sokkas-honour]

For the Spotify writing could you do 50 for Korra

ms. california - korra x reader

pairing: korra x reader (gender neutral)

wc: 1.8k

notes/warnings: nothing here folks :)

i love your voice but hate the way, you talk of her consistently

you heard the boats coming in before you saw them, you heard the cheers erupting from a small crowd that had formed around the south pole’s dock, all flocking to catch a glimpse of their avatar coming home. while everyone’s excitement stemmed from seeing what was essentially a hero, you were just excited to finally see your oldest friend whom you hadn’t seen since she had left to go back to republic city after spending time healing with master katara in the south pole.

excitement cursed through your veins at the prospect of seeing your best friend after years of being separated as you ran to mix in with the crowd of natives welcoming one of their own home.

your heart swelled once you finally spotted her, standing proudly at the front of the ship, her mother placed right next to her as they both waved at the crowd. you noticed her newly cut hair that you had only seen in recent varrick industries movers, it looked even better on her in person.

you pushed your way through the crowd, excusing yourself as you bumped into several people, most of them unphased as they kept their gaze on the master of all four elements. you didn’t stop moving until you found yourself next to tonraq, a man who had served as almost a second father to you ever since you were a toddler. your father being one of the water bending masters that kept an eye on korra growing up, meaning you grew up alongside her at the white lotus compound.

“hey y/n, excited?” the chief asked as soon as he noticed your presence next to him, keeping his eyes on his daughter that was fast approaching.

“yes sir.” cheers got louder as the boat finally stopped, chief tonraq invited you to join him as he walked towards the boat, the guards he had enlisted letting you pass in order to join him.

when your eyes met here as she started coming down, you felt a smile grow on your features as you watched her face mirror yours, two old friends finally reuniting.

unexpectedly, korra picked up the pace and wrapped you in a hug as soon as she got near you, taking you by surprise.

“i missed you.” she exclaimed as you were returning it, happy to once again be in her arms. her large coat was soft to the touch but she smelled rather foreign, most likely due to the fact that was living in a bustling city. the sound of her voice was something you didn’t expect to miss so much but now that you finally heard it for the first time in months, you didn’t want to ever go without it again.

“missed you too.” you squeeze her slightly before you two finally broke apart, grins still on your faces as you both eyes each other up and down in order to see if there were any noticeable changes in each other’s appearance.

a little later during the day, after following korra revisit her home town you ended up having dinner at her childhood home. swapping not only childhood stories but also catching up on the things you had missed and that’s when when you found out about her.

one question was asked and suddenly, that’s all korra could talk about, all of her recent experiences being completely thrown out the window to talk about things her girlfriend, asami, had been doing, how her company was doing, some new invention she had come up with in the later hours of the night, a funny thing she had said, everything that was coming out of the avatar’s mouth had something to do with her.

you tried your hardest to engage in the conversation, finding your heart melt at how she talked about asami with so much love and amazement. her eyes sparkled in a way you had never seen them and you felt your heart sting a bit knowing that she’d never talk about you that way, that her eyes would never lit up at the sheer mention of your name. after a couple of minutes of enduring it, you retracted to your own thoughts, letting tonraq and senna interact with their daughter.

but every time you say her name, it honestly kills me

to help digest your food, and because korra insisted she wanted to, you both went on a walk after you finished eating some delicious homemade noodles. the cold didn’t both you as much as you were bundled under your coat, happy to find that outside the sky was clear, no signs of a snow storm in sight.

“sorry, i talked a lot back there.” she immediately said once she stepped out of her home to join you, excusing herself for being the center of attention at her own celebratory dinner.

“you realise that you haven’t been home in ages, and you’re the avatar, you’re the only one with any real stories to tell.” you joked as you started leading her in a random direction, knowing the whole area like the back of your hand meant that no matter where you two went, you wouldn’t get lost.

“come on, life here isn’t that boring.” she laughed lightly at your comment, following you closely so she wouldn’t get lost.

“you’d be surpised.” she rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that her best friend who always loved to live life to the fullest was admitting to living such a monotonous one.

“my dad told me you started teaching people waterbending which means you’re a real master now, that’s cool!” she nudged you lightly, causing a small smile to tug at your lips at the compliment on the full mastering of your skill, something that you were incredibly proud of.

“yeah, it’s not what i plan to do forever but it’s fun.” you shrugged your shoulders slightly before you two fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound between you being the trudging of your boots in the snow and the usual night sounds.

“but i could totally beat your ass, water or all elements, you don’t stand a chance.” you spoke up defiantly while simultaneously holding a joking tone in your words making her stop in her tracks.

“is that so? i’d love to see it.” she placed her hands on her hips as her eyes jokingly narrowed in your direction, thankfully you were still close enough to people’s houses to have some light letting you see her hilarious facial expression that looked identical to the one she used to wear when she was younger.

“how about tomorrow? we can even invite your parents so they see how weak the avatar actually is.” you teased as you suddenly felt the snow beneath your feet shift, causing you to fall backwards. quickly reacting, you brought snow up around the both of your arms to propel yourself forward, directing the snow directly at your friend as soon as your feet were flat on the ground.

korra brought her arms up to stop the snow from hitting her before letting it go limp and drop the ground.

“damnit, i would’ve loved to catch you off guard.” she whined, finally walking up to you after having let you walk by yourself a short distance.

“korra, you called me a master not two seconds ago, did you not think i’d be able to react to that?”

“listen, i didn’t think this through.” she rose her hands up in defence as you laughed, shaking your head at how much your friend could be idiotic when she wanted to.

“no kidding.” your comment earned a gust of air being bent in your face, causing your hood to fly backwards and your face going cold.

you narrowed your eyes at her as she simply stuck her tongue out childishly, causing you to laugh at how immature she was.

“i sure hope your city friends also get to deal with this side of you, would be a shame if they didn’t.” you managed to say once your laughter died down, being met with playfully offended avatar with her arms crossed as she observed you laughing with a quirked eyebrow.

“actually, asami says i’m pretty mature.” she stated matter of factly and you felt your happiness falter slightly at the mention of her girlfriend, wishing you could just go back to five minutes ago when you weren’t reminded of the fact that korra was living a completely different life to yours, one that didn’t involve spending it with you but with some supposed beautiful and genius inventor.

she's your girl, she's in all your pictures. california girl, i wish i was her

the following day, after tiring each other out sparring, you both headed back to her house as she mentionned wanting to show you some pictures she had of her life in republic city. you had barely seen certain staples of it like air temple island and the aang statue inside of books but never anything more.

“this is the spirit portal in the middle of the city.” you had seen numerous times the southern portal but there was something about the new one that made it stand out, while trying to figure it out, you spotted her, tall, long black hair, looking adoringly at korra who was talking to some officiel and you knew right then and there that was asami.

as korra showed you pictures of the pro bending arena, more in depth ones of air temple island, the spirit vines and in practically all of them you could see her, her whole presence seemed elegant, you could tell why korra had fallen for her.

when you're gone, she sleeps in your t-shirts

“shit i forgot my shirt.” korra mumbled as she frantically searched through the bag for her night shirt as you watched her from the other side of the room.

“don’t you have some here?” you suggested, looking around her room to maybe see one laying around but you knew that senna kept the room nice and tidy while her daughter was away.

“probably, hopefully asami is making use of it.” korra shrugged her shoulders before abandoning her bag on the ground, making her way to her crate where she kept all of her older clothes, grabbing the first one that came in between her fingers before facing you again, excited to have a sleepover like you always used to have.

“yeah, hopefully.” you mumbled, staring at the small fire that korra had lit for extra warmth, wishing that maybe in another life you weren’t just korra’s childhood friend, maybe you two actually got together, maybe if you had followed her to republic city instead of staying home afraid of being reprimanded by your parents for disobeying orders, maybe everything would’ve been different.

it hurts, i wish i was her, ms california.

general taglist: @biqherosix @draqondance @butterfly-skinnylegend @alteasmoon @staygoldsquatchling02 @sunnypluto

lok only taglist: @welovediaaxx @firelady-jay @callmecopper

#korra x reader #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #lok x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #krew x reader #korra #atla #lok #avatar x reader #avatar #korra lok x reader

[bethchapelsbonnet]

I Dont remember if it Was on you're Ways to Tell ILY Prompt list but might I suggest a "I Choose you" Hournite One shot?

I didn't see you interact with the original submission I answered, so I included it here

I Choose You

All of the fuss that Beth went through to try to compile each and every piece of evidence that someone may need in order to get Rick the heck out of that place was simply... Well - it was actually exhausting, but she never realized until she was at the end of her days.

The database was always excellent and as the official Dr. Mid-Nite, she had access to even more information.

Not what she truly needed - to be able to actually speak to Rick. To assess how he was doing. To at least hold his hand, which.. she was conflicted about that one in particular. She didn't understand why that idea kept coming to her when she and Rick never actually really touched each other that way.

Casually - pats on the back or holding each other back in a fight, but nothing so intimate as hand holding. Maybe it was her renewed self confidence. She had chosen herself. And now, she was choosing Rick. 

They didn't allow any of them to see him. He was currently being held at a juvenile center, assigned a caseworker and a child advocate attorney, with an ongoing investigation about his uncle and his home life. But, Beth found out the names of everyone involved in his case and she was sending them documents, school reports, and everything that she could scrape up to prove that Rick was in a dangerous household and had been abused and mistreated. 

It was her hope that they would all see it was self defense and go easy on him. Courtney and Pat had tried to explain to her that Eclipso was controlling him. It wasn't self defense. It was just a terrible mind game.

Not too long ago, they were pressing her to accept murdering a bad guy… but suddenly, when it's THIS bad guy… who didn't even DIE, they were willing to accept Rick turning himself in and being put away? "It's what Rick wanted, to be held accountable.."

"He didn't DO it! It was Eclipso!" Beth had snapped at Courtney. Courtney's eyes went wide and she got quiet. Of course she knew that and she didn't deserve Beth being rude with her, either, but Beth was too frustrated to tell herself that at the moment and Rick wasn't around…

She called him anyway, as she stormed out. 

"Rick!" She took a deep breath, "You don't deserve to be held responsible for something that you didn't do wrong!" She noticed Courtney in the corner of her eye and whispered, "There's nothing you need to be held accountable for and I'm working on helping you get out. Just… I hope you aren't too hard on yourself." She hung up and looked at Courtney.

"I watched him run around, hallucinating, breaking down as he was attacked by something that we couldn't see… it was like with Yolanda, only someone did get hurt. I didn't want to have to see that again and it wasn't easy to let Rick confess, but what else could we do? What would you have done differently?"

Beth wanted to say that she wouldn't have let him out of her sight, that she would have talked to him until he was back down to Earth..  but as a firm believer in herself, some part of her knew that Courtney didn't have that type of power. Beth was the one who could stop Rick in his tracks and make him think for a moment. 

"What about when you see a dead 10 year old girl? Would you have been able to use your head in that moment and stop him from reacting?"

Beth sniffled and wiped her face, "If I was here, I know that I could have fixed this. I know that I could have talked him down. He listens to me. It's different with us. And with Eclipso… it's personal now."

.

Rick heard about an "adorable but incredibly annoying" girl who spoonfed a lot of information to his case worker and his advocate. They didn't have to describe her. He did initially automatically think Courtney, since that was who saw him last on the outside and that's who annoyed him more than any girl he knew…

But when they spoke about legal documents, school incidents and cases and studies of similar cases..  He knew that they meant Beth. A lot of her findings needed to be double checked by the proper authorities and his advocate would need to speak with a judge, but it was looking like Rick may be entitled to psychological treatment from years of abuse that resulted in him finally lashing back.

He wanted to argue with that, but in a way.. that felt like some type of hope and he couldn't say there wasn't truth in it. Whatever Beth had done, he finally felt some peace of mind, since coming here…

.

The court order to grant him a placement took shorter than he thought, even though it still felt super long. The Chapels weren't foster parents, but thanks to some… creative documentation on Beth's part, they were able to be listed as family friends to whom custody could be signed over.

He would be trying for emancipation, but in the meantime, he had a place to sleep and eat and stuff… and Beth was there.

"How did you manage to pull this off?" Rick wondered, more confused than grateful, but she didn't take it to heart. She smiled and tapped her goggles. "Of course…" he stared at his bags on the floor. "Did you get the full story?"

"I got Courtney and Pat's side of it. You don't have to tell me, but in your own time, if you want to, you can." She handed him some mail, "I filled out your paperwork and sent it in. You've gotten at least one response."

"My paperwork?"

She winced, "I totally trespassed into your car and home, scanning everything and looking for something to help me. I traced punched in walls, I took an inventory of the alcohol in there, you name it. I also found the forms that you had for college and financial aid. I took them with me, but also wondered what they were doing there. So I checked on cell phone records and saw that Miss Woods-" she rolled her eyes when she said her name. (She wasn't fond of how cruelly that woman had treated Rick, and she didn't mind saying so), "Had been there. I figured she was the one who gave those to you, went to pay her a visit and questioned her until she told me about what happened earlier. She had seen your uncle and he was belligerent and drinking. I told her that I would speak to your advocate in order to see if that was usable information. It was. She made for a very dependable character reference."

Rick looked stunned. He didn't know what to say, but eventually landed on, "Why am I at your house and not at Pat's? I don't even know your parents and they probably aren't pleased about what happened." 

"Well, I believe that I've managed to do quite the PR campaign for you when I was making my rounds to see if anybody had recollection of witnessing your uncle be unkind to you. A lot of people have been quiet about things that they should have spoken up about… myself included.." she lowered her head, "I noticed bruises on you sometimes at lunch when we weren't friends and I guessed that they weren't from some school fight, otherwise, the school would know." She looked up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears, "All of us made choices to mind our business and just leave you to fend for yourself. Everybody's been feeling pretty guilty that it came to… that.."

She cleared her throat, "There's enough going on at Courtney's house, and Yolanda's isn't an option. I couldn't let you wind up at the group home. Artemis is there. The last time you two saw each other, you almost killed one another. I thought my home was the best choice. It's safe, there's just me here. My parents believed me when I vouched for you, so they would be acting like wardens or anything, and I just… I feel better knowing that if something happens, I'll be there."

He sat down on the guest bed and twiddled his thumbs, "That's just it. If something happens, I… I no longer have the hourglass. I won't be able to protect you fully."

"I can protect myself," she said, sitting next to him. "Just wait until you hear my Eclipso story."

"Your what?"

"He attacked me the same time that he attacked you…" Rick looked terrified as he checked her over for damages. "It's a long story, but I'm fine. It went very differently for me than it did for you." She looked sad for a moment. I think he must've known."

He was confused. Beth looked him in the eyes through her goggles, "That we protect each other. That you fight for me and I fight for you. I felt so victorious when I was able to take my goggles back from me and solidify my place on the team… the. I found out he had gotten to my Rick…" 

His heart jumped in his chest and he stared at her. He reached for her goggles but she shook her head and he withdrew his hands. "It wasn't anything to do with you."

"No, but had I been there…"

"Then you could have gotten hurt or had to see me become the very kind of monster that I hate!" 

She furrowed her eyebrows and she grabbed his hand, harder than she meant to, but that demanded his attention and he stared at her face, "If I had been there, you would've had the extra strength you needed to see through him. I wouldn't have let you fight. Please believe me when I say that I'm sure I could have talked some sense into you. I could have saved you from thinking that you're a monster. Because you aren't a monster, Rick. You're a kid who was in a situation that most of us can't fathom, and when you needed me, I wasn't there." He started crying and shook his head. "I'll understand if you want to stay with Mr. Dugan instead…"

"No. No.."He had told Grundy that day that he just needed someone to care about him, to be kind to him, and he could be alright. Rick was so caught up in the stress of his uncle, he hadn't thought about how he did have someone like that. He had his friends, the Dugans, and he had Beth. She had done all of this, because she felt like she'd failed him. Like she was supposed to protect him. She wasn't obligated to do that, but the fact that she wanted to, that she tried to. 

Hell, she was even correct about being able to talk him down. He didn't know if she could have that night, but as much as she meant to him… he couldn't rule out that what if. He collected her hand to his heart and said extremely softly, "I choose you." 

@futurewriterwannebe

#beth chapel #hournite #rick tyler #futurewriterwannabe #prompts #nesha prompts #I Choose You #hournite prompts #nesha hournite fics #hournite fics #fics

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request:  - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students -  anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!)  - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst) 

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao)  Lucas )

word count: 18k 

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess 

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye 

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.  

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.


Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.  

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.  

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.  

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.


“Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.” 


Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter. 


“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.  

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.


Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."


Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.  

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am -  ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?” 


Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.


Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.


Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.  

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like


10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”


You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.


You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and  glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

#Han #han jisung #skz jisung #stray kids jisung #skz han #stray kids han #han scenarios #han jisung scenarios #han imagines #han jisung imagines #han au #han jisung au #stray kids #han jisung fluff #han jisung angst #han fluff #han angst #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz au #skz angst #enemies-to-lovers!jisung #enemies-to-lovers!han #college!au #skz #skz imagines

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 3: You Oughta Know

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

Tony dropped down onto the grass near an empty playground just by the water, laying Spidey on the ground gently before breaking his way out of the suit. The mechanic kneeled beside the teenager, grabbing his wrist and tearing the webshooter off of it. He pressed two fingers against the boy's wrist, sighing in relief when he could make out a surprisingly strong pulse. The relief only lasted for a moment before he moved onto the fact that the kid still wasn't moving.

Hesitating for only a moment, he reached for the mask.

A hand shot up just as his fingers brushed against the fabric, slapping his own hand away sloppily. Tony didn't mind, only letting out a sigh and sinking back onto his knees in relief as Spidey sat up, coughing so hard his whole body shook. The kid tore his mask up to his nose to throw up mouthfuls of murky water before settling back onto his elbows and pulling the mask back down harshly. Tony resisted the urge to pat the kid on his back, instead keeping his hands wrung and watching the vigilante sharply.

He coughed, "Uh, hey, Mr. Stark."

"Hey, kid." Tony offered him a smile. "Jeez, I leave you alone for one day and you almost drown. I think you're more danger prone than me, if that's possible."

"Yeah, you'd be surprised," Spidey said, sitting up farther before freezing and turning to regard Tony suspiciously. "How did you find me? Did you put a tracker on me or something?"

"No. No, kid, I didn't, I promise. My AI's been keeping an eye out for you, and she seemed to think you were in trouble."

"You're spying on me?"

"No, not--I'm not spying on you, kid," Tony rushed to assure. He paused and then conceded with the decency to shrug in embarrassment. "Okay, sorta maybe. Yeah. I'm kinda spying on you, but I also just saved your life, so."

"I had it," Spidey muttered, but it was ruined by another cough. Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "I did! At least, until that vulture guy showed up."

"Vulture guy?"

In a flurry of words, Spider-Man explained, and Tony was happy to listen. He was happy to hear anything the kid was willing to say to him, even if it began with him stalking out a weapons deal and ended with a man with metal wings grabbing him out of the air.

"--and then he just, he just, like, swooped down like a monster and he picked me up and, uh, he took me up, like, a thousand feet and just dropped me!"

Tony shook his head, wishing desperately he could see beyond the suit at any injuries the kid may have as he reattached his webshooter. He did seem okay though, if a little thin, if the way the soaked suit practically hung off of him was anything to go by.

"What were you thinking?" Tony asked, unable to keep the scornful fear from his voice.

"The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons that I've been seeing. I gotta take him down!"

"Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing."

"The Avengers?"

"No. No, no. This is a little below their pay grade," Tony explained. Spidey's eyes narrowed at him. "Look, forget the flying vulture guy, please."

"What? No! He's putting weapons out on the street, my street, I've gotta keep looking for him."

Tony pursed his lip, resisting the urge to argue further and wrap this kid up in bubble wrap. He relented, for the time being. "Fine. I won't stop you."

"Not like you could anyway."

"You're meaner than I remember."

"Yeah, well, get used to it I guess."

"Does that mean I get to hang out with my soulmate from now on? Possibly know their name?"

Spidey froze, staring past Tony in a tired manner. He slumped down onto the grass dramatically. "What time is it?"

"You're not gonna run out on me or anything are you? Or if you do, can you at least leave something behind for me? Like, a boot maybe?"

"Are you calling me Cinderella?"

"Sure. Cinder-kid. Cinder-whatever-your-name-is."

Spider-Man turned his head to glare at his persistent fishing. "I'm surprised you don't already know."

"I've got a list. Twenty-eight kids so far."

"I'm not a kid," he mumbled. Tony smirked.

"Nice try. I know your birthday." Spider-Man groaned. "Still no name?"

A moment. "Ben."

"There's no Ben on the list," Tony answered immediately.

"What, you just have that memorized?" When Tony didn't answer, save for the raise of an eyebrow, the kid groaned again. "If I tell you my name will you please tell me the time?"

Tony checked his watch. "8:17."

A very long, very tense moment before finally, "Peter."

"There's no Peter on the list either."

"Then your list sucks." Tony stared at him. "I'm not lying, you just need to be better at being a detective."

After a moment, Tony accepted it, though he didn't completely believe it. "Fine. Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Tony."

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Are you always this mean or are you just in a bad mood?"

Peter ducked his head guiltily. "Sorry. Just kinda hungry. I didn't--uh, I didn't eat dinner. Yet."

"I can fix that," Tony said, holding out a hand. Peter stared at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it and allowing for Tony to pull him up. Both of them glanced at where their shadows switched. Peter tensed before tearing his hand away and shoving it in his pocket. Tony tried to not let his hurt show.

Peter let out a groan of annoyance, distracting Tony from where he'd been staring at the switched shadows to look at the kid, who had pulled out a phone as wet as it was cracked. The billionaire grimaced just looking at it.

"Yikes. If you need to call your parents, I have my phone with me."

Spidey winced. "No, uh, it's fine. Just, ah, I left my friend at a party, he's probably wondering where I'm at."

"Okay. If you're sure," Tony said. Peter nodded. "So, dinner?"

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. I've got to get back to the party. My friend's mom is picking us up in an hour."

"Then, can we talk?" Peter dug his boot into the ground in such a childish manner it physically hurt. He clearly didn't want to talk, but that didn't stop Tony. "Here and now would be preferable."

"About what?" the kid rasped.

"A few things. The fact that we're soulmates, why you got involved in this, why you run around as a vigilante in the first place--"

"--I literally told you last night--"

"--and why you ran away yesterday," Tony finished, ignoring him.

"I have a curfew."

"What's your curfew?"

"Ten," Spidey muttered.

"So you were already late. If you'd waited a little bit longer I probably could've explained to your parents why you were late."

Spidey's head shot up, eyes narrowing. "That I was out being a vigilante?"

"That you were meeting your soulmate."

"Oh. That." The boot scuffed against the ground again, and Tony tried not to let his sullen voice get to him. "I don't think he would've cared."

That sounded horribly wrong to Tony's ears. He asked incredulously, "Your dad wouldn't have cared that you met your soulmate?"

"He's not my dad."

Oh.

"Who do you live with then?"

"Group home," Peter answered with a shrug. "Our curfew has no exceptions, so."

Tony hesitated. "Peter, can you take off your mask?"

"Why?"

"I mean, why not? I already know your name and birthday. I can find you pretty easily."

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. I'm good. Besides, I should be getting back to my friend, so."

Peter moved to walk away, but Tony grabbed his arm hastily, desperate for this not to be how his first real meeting with his soulmate to go. Peter flinched immediately, and the mechanic let go as the kid stumbled back. That horrible suspicion in his chest only grew.

"Sorry," Tony apologized as Peter continued to stare at him. This wasn't going how he had envisioned at all. Soulmate meetings were usually thought of with an air of overwhelming happiness, maybe a few shed tears and a lot of hugs. But all Tony had was a first name, a smattering of depressing facts, and the knowledge that this kid didn't want anything to do with him. "Not an Iron Man fan, huh?"

Peter shrugged, but Tony noted it as a small victory that the tension leaked out of his small frame. "Thor's actually my favorite, so."

"Well, as long as it isn't Mr. America, then I'm good." There was an awkward silence only broken by the mechanical whir of Spidey's goggles as he glanced to the side, clearly searching for an escape. Tony bit down a sigh. "Go back to your party, kid. I'll see you around?"

"Sure. See you around, Mr. Stark."

Well, he didn't sound completely miserable about it, so Tony counted it as a win. He watched as the kid swung off of the trees back towards the neighborhood, a hint of hope warring with his hurt. Only once the hood slipped off of his shadow did the mechanic start moving again, stepping into the suit, which lit up as he fired into the sky.

"Okay, Fri. Find me a kid named Peter born on August tenth, 2001 with all the earlier guidelines."

"There isn't one, sir."

Tony thought for a moment. "Oh! Remove siblings as a statistic, look for one in a group home instead."

"One match."

"Save it to the file. I'll check it out when I get home."

 ---

  Toomes stared at the retreating figure of the Iron Man suit, his mask highlighting the flying hunk of metal before he turned away to stare at the playground where he and Spider-Man had been talking. Peter, apparently. Stark's soulmate.

He'd have to be careful, very careful, about how he played this.

Adrian had been set on flying away immediately after dropping the vigilante so that he could chew out Brice for being so reckless, but the sight of the Iron Man suit dipping under the water had stopped him. What the hell was the billionaire doing near his house? It had made him wary enough for him to dive down and perch a football field's length away, allowing for his helmet to pick up on the two's conversation.

That decision had probably been one of the best ones of his entire life. The kid was clearly very insistent to go after him and his business, while Stark not so much, but that didn't stop the fact that Peter was clearly desperate to take him down and had Iron Man even more clearly wrapped around his little finger. That was dangerous, and it was bad for business.

After checking once more that Iron Man was no longer nearby, he shot back up into the air towards his warehouse as he made a note to put Mason u[ to finding out who this Peter-kid was and he searched through multiple names in his personnel, looking for the best to keep an eye on the kid. No one was going to mess with his business. With his family.

  ---

"Alright," Tony said as he entered the lab through the window, stepping out from his suit and back over to his desk. He grimaced at where the web fluid had exploded over the desk while he'd been gone. Hopefully that would fizzle out in an hour or two. "What have you got for me, Fri?"

A screen popped up immediately, and Tony was shown his first true glimpse of his soulmate's face. His heart tugged both at the adorableness of the kid pictured in front of him and the fact that he was seeing the kid for the first time through a screen. He shook it aside, taking in the kid in front of him.

Peter.

The yearbook photo left the smile hilariously forced but no less adorable, especially with the way the kid's eyes read embarrassment and boredom in only a way a teen's could. His hair was tamed down generously for picture day, but a few stray curls forced their way loose. Somehow, he was exactly what Tony had imagined.

"Okay. Full life synopsis. Let's go," he ordered the AI.

"Peter Benjamin Parker was born on August tenth, 2001, to Mary and Richard Parker, both head researchers at Oscorp before their deaths in 2006 in a plane crash. Guardianship was transferred to Richard's brother and sister-in-law, Ben and May Parker. They were killed during a mugging six months ago."

"Yikes, kid. Not a super easy time for you, huh?" Tony glanced at the picture of the kid again. "Where does he live now?"

"At the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys under the guardianship of Andrew Fowler."

"Pull up his file. Any records of abuse or illegal activities?"

"Fowler has two DUI's from when he was nineteen and twenty-three, but nothing else. Nothing unusual about him, boss."

Tony hummed, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. After all of Peter's little flinches and shakes, he was still skeptical, but with nothing to prove, he left it alone. For now.

"Mr. Parker does, however, have a record."

His head turned. "He does?"

"He does." Multiple files were shoved in his face. "Nothing serious, sir, but he has multiple accounts of sneaking out and degenerate behavior. Smoking, loitering, and two misdemeanors."

Tony hesitated for a moment, but shrugged it off. He was a kid who'd had a rough life, and, really, Tony had done some similar shit when he was the kid's age, and the sneaking out could be easily waved off by Peter's vigilante actions. He moved on.

"How's the suit coming along?"

"Trials are finished and ready for 3D printing. All that's left is the fluid, boss."

Tony glanced at the table still completely covered with the white formula. He grimaced. "We'll deal with that later. Go ahead and print the suit, and I'm gonna need a couple of things before we completely shut down for the night."

  ---

I, Peter thought, am an idiot.

After returning to the party, he had changed back into his regular clothes and managed to draw Ned out from the crowd, who had been more than a little confused at his dripping wet hair and slightly bruised face.

"Dude," Ned had asked. "What the hell happened? What happened to the plan?"

"Sorry," Peter had muttered. "There was some weapons dealers. They got the drop on me and dropped me in the lake. And, uh, I met Mr. Stark again."

Ned had gasped. "Really!? Oh, my gosh, is he here? Can I meet him?"

"No, he left, Ned. He saved me actually."

"This is the coolest! You're superhero buddies!" He'd gasped again. "Oh, my God! Are you Iron Man's sidekick?"

"What? No, Ned. I'm not his sidekick." I'm his soulmate, which was honestly worse. Peter would be a better sidekick than a soulmate. "It was probably just, like, a favor thing since I saved him yesterday."

"Super. Hero. Buddies."

There hadn't been any arguing with Ned, he'd been too excited. But, thankfully, the arrival of Iron Man had distracted his friend from going back to the party and they'd called his mom so they could leave early. Not ready to take anymore chances that night, he'd asked Mrs. Leeds to drop him off right at the group home. Mr. Fowler hadn't been there when Peter had tiptoed through the door, so he'd just slipped up the stairs and taken a hot shower, not even bothering to try and take something from the kitchen. He didn't have the heart for another strike.

His spider sense had been going off the entire time, just like it had when he'd been talking with Mr. Stark. It had prevented him from falling asleep that night, thankfully it had been a Friday. But the fact that his senses wouldn't calm down, even now on Saturday morning, was more than a little concerning. Was he dying? Maybe it was the lack of food? Or were his senses trying to warn him about Mr. Stark?

That was the worst thought of all, but it'd popped into his mind whenever he'd caught sight of his shadow while he was eating breakfast the next morning. Everyone in the group home was at the table to watch his nervous jitters as he tried not to look too starved while eating his cereal. Tim and Eric had glanced at him a lot, clearly desperate for him to play some games with them today. The other two younger boys, Aaron and Juan, were much more calm, staring down at the table in an attempt to not draw attention to themselves. Though Jeremiah was winning that competition.

Mr. Fowler sat at the head of the table, a plate of eggs and bacon sitting idly in front of him as he rifled through the mail with annoyed mutters. The man had a lot of junk mail--seriously, he had more magazine subscriptions than Peter could count--so the boys could usually tell when he finally stumbled across something he liked in the mail. His muttering would pause, the rifling would stop, and he would hum in approval before setting the piece of paper aside. This morning, he found something he clearly didn't care for.

Mr. Fowler's muttering paused, the rifling stopped, and Peter waited for the quiet hum, but instead there was a displeased grunt. Heads turned as the junk mail smacked onto the table and a vanilla letter stood out in Mr. Fowler's hands with large letters scrolled on the front of it. Peter's name sat scrawled on the corner.

"Who the heck is 'TS?'" Mr. Fowler asked, glancing at the letter again. "With no return address?"

Peter panicked, almost choking on his off-brand Cheerios as he searched for an excuse that wasn't as flimsy as a feather.

"It's, uh, a pen pal. Thing."

Sure. Not flimsy at all, Parker.

"A pen pal?"

Peter nodded. "Yep. Um, through--through school. It's new. And we deliver them, by ah, ourselves. I delivered mine yesterday, so, no return address?"

"Fun... What's their name?"

He took another bite of his food to stall, mumbling through the soggy cereal, "Tony."

"Tony...?"

"Smart." Mr. Fowler glanced at him. Idiot, idiot, idiot. "Yeah. Tony Smart. He goes to Bronx... Anyway can I have that letter please?"

With a grumble, Mr. Fowler tossed the letter on the table in front of Peter. He quickly pocketed it, finishing his cereal as fast as humanly possible and placing it in the dishwasher. He passed by the table, promising to help the other kids with their dishes and their homework, before walking out the door and sitting on the steps outside the small and rundown building, ignoring the way his senses were still going off.

Peter muttered confusions under his breath as he pulled the surprisingly thick letter out of his hoodie, turning it over in his hands once before finally ripping it open. There were four things inside. He grabbed the letter first, unfolding it to read the loose lettering scrawled inside.

  Dear, Mr. Parker,

Letters aren't really my thing. I'm more of a talker, as you may have realized last night, so I've left a new Starkphone in the envelope to replace the one you broke last night. For talking. And whatever the hell teenagers do with phones too.

  Peter blinked, narrowing his eyes and his chin dropping as he fished the phone out of the envelope. It was horribly expensive under his fingers and he immediately flushed as he thought about how much it must cost. He didn't think it was even on the market yet. He shook his head and blinked furiously, returning to the letter.

  I've also included a Stark Industries badge that will get you into the tower for the next week or so until we move to the compound. You'll receive a new one once badges are printed for the Avengers Compound. My forehead of security will be very excited to be on the job. There's also a credit card connected to my account if you're ever in trouble or in the mood for something to eat. Of course, I don't know what your schedule is, but call me whenever, and you're always welcome in Casa de Stark.

-TS

P.S. Stop by the tower if you can today. I've got a surprise I think you'll like.

  Go to the tower? Peter glanced around the street nervously. He guessed it couldn't hurt, as long as he got all his Saturday chores done first.

After a moment of hesitation, the teenager folded up the letter, stuffing it in his pocket before turning back to the rest of the contents in the envelope. Like Mr. Stark had said, there was a Stark Industries badge, with his embarrassing yearbook photo and his name printed in bold letters, and an ebony credit card that practically gleamed even in the weak light of the gray day.

"The hell..." he muttered, staring at it. He didn't even want to begin thinking about how much stuff he could buy with this thing. The thought made him nauseous, and he moved to stuff it in his pocket as well, when he paused. His pocket was a horrible place to put this thing. He didn't plan on using it, but he'd have an actual stroke if he managed to lose it, or worse, if someone stole it. Mr. Stark already didn't seem overwhelmingly thrilled to have a snotty kid as his soulmate, no need to disappoint him further.

Peter went back inside, placing the card in his thin leather wallet that he kept in his bag, clipping his badge to the backpack, and then stuffing the letter underneath his mattress. Before he went to move back downstairs, his stomach rumbled and his eyes strayed back to the card. Mr. Stark had said he could use it whenever...and it wasn't like snacks were going to drain his account or anything. He bit his lip, forcing himself to turn back around and down the stairs. He wasn't a charity case, and he wasn't going to just abuse Mr. Stark's money like that.

The teenager shook his head as he hurried back to the common floor to begin cleaning up the kitchen as he tried not to think about how hungry he was going to be tonight. Only breakfast was allowed when grounded at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, so tonight was going to be so much worse without a school provided lunch. And falling asleep last night had been almost impossible thanks to the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach. Whatever. He'd figure it out somehow.

Cleaning the kitchen didn't take very long, both him and Jeremiah burning through the dishes and putting away food in less than ten minutes while the younger kids sat silently at the table, trepidatious noses stuck in books, though they'd been allowed a moment of calm reprieve when Mr. Fowler had stumbled upstairs for a few minutes before plopping back downstairs into his usual seat. Once the two were done, Jeremiah went to take out the trash while Peter stepped over to Mr. Fowler, who was just finishing scribbling on a thin piece of paper.

"I expect the receipt as usual, Parker. Not a penny missing." The man thrust the list in his hand along with a wad of tightly wrapped cash that Peter accepted more than a little nervously. Mr. Fowler was very particular about his money. "And don't forget to check the eggs to make sure they're not broken."

"Yes, sir," Peter nodded.

"And take the others with you. I need a few hours of peace."

"Yes, sir," he said again.

He motioned for the children to grab their bags from the hooks by the door while Peter dashed up the stairs and back down again with his own. He never left home without it, and the kids needed something to hold their stuff. Not that he would mind carrying a couple of books, but they had to carry all the groceries back, so the more free hands the better.

The ragtag group bounced onto the cracked sidewalk, the kids waving goodbyes to Jeremiah as they headed off towards the nearest grocery story. There was some excited babble as they all crowded around Peter, words tumbling from prepubescent lips as they all finally got their chance to inform Peter of their very eventful week. Mr. Fowler was never very excited to have the kids talking all at once. It disturbed his constant hangovers.

"One at a time, one at a time," Peter said with a reluctant smile. The chatter died down. "Youngest first."

Eric grabbed Peter's hand in response, the nine year-old babbling away about something new he'd learned in class and something funny his friend had said on Monday that he'd been waiting all week to tell Peter. Next was Juan, who had similar tellings, but the teenager responded just enthusiastically as he did Eric until they went all the way through the stories and ended up at the cheap grocery store.

Peter stopped them before going inside. "Rules?"

"Don't touch anything," all four chorused, continuing down the list. 1. Don't touch anything. 2. Stay by Peter. And 3. Hold your buddy's hand the whole time. Once they'd repeated them all, Peter nodded and led them inside.

The teenager tried his best to get everything on Mr. Fowler's list quickly, but refused to not double check for the cheaper brands that Mr. Fowler was always so insistent he buy. It irked Peter off, especially since grocery money came from the state and not the man, but there wasn't anything Peter could do without getting another strike, so he grabbed the blandest cheerios and the most unhealthy oatmeal and placed them in the basket in annoyance, doing his best to avoid any aisle with some kind of bright sugar. He still caught the other kids looking at cookies and cartons of ice cream longingly though.

Finally, after an agonizingly long time, they were all checked out and laden with groceries as they headed down the sidewalk back to the group home. There was more chatter from the kids as they pointed at fluttering pigeons and scurrying rats. There was even a parrot at one point that Peter was sure someone was looking for. He'd check around online later and see if he could give someone a tip about the scarlet bird that's shit narrowly missed Eric.

All was going well until the chime of an ice cream truck began down the small neighborhood street. Feet stopped and heads turned as the bright pink vehicle stopped in front of a group of clamoring kids. Peter could practically feel their want for something other than the same breakfast and dinner they got every day. Their most interesting meal was usually their school lunches, which was honestly more pitiful than anything the teenager could ever dream of.

Peter bit his lip as he stared at the ice cream truck and then sighed, setting down his groceries and opening the pocket of his backpack where he'd placed his wallet earlier. The wallet that now had a shiny black card connected directly to a billionaire that could give these kids a fun morning for once.

The wallet that was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," Peter muttered.

Eric gasped, pointing at Peter who was now practically tearing apart his backpack looking for the thing, panic rising in his chest. "Peter said a bad word!"

"Shit," Juan said in response. There were some giggles from the older kids but Eric gasped again. Peter ignored them, strangling in a reluctant breath as his hands finally stilled after coming away with nothing.

How the hell had he lost it? He'd had it for barely an hour! Think, Parker, think. It had been in his bag, he knew that. He'd put it in the second lowest pocket of his backpack, which he'd left upstairs. All the boys had been at the table, and Jeremiah had been cleaning the kitchen with him the entire time. Had someone stolen it at the store? It was possible but unlikely, what with his spider sense and the fact that four kids who'd grown up in New York's foster system paying constant attention to him. So how could it have--

Peter paused, bringing his hands up to cover the bottom half of his face as he clenched his teeth harder than he remembered having ever done before. Mr. Fowler had gone upstairs. And Peter's story had been complete bullshit. He must have found his wallet and taken it upon seeing the shiny black card just perfectly poised for the taking.

His legs stiff with terror, Peter stuffed everything he'd taken out of his bag back into it haphazardly, zipping it shut so harshly the tab ripped completely off. He grunted, throwing the piece of plastic to the ground and clutching his groceries back in his hands before stomping off. The kids stumbled after him once they'd realized he'd begun to move.

"Peter!! Wait up!" Tim called.

Peter forced himself to pause for them, but continued on the moment they were caught up to him. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn't stop the way his face contorted and he seethed in fury. He didn't give two flying shits about the crumpled bills in his wallet the man had taken, or the few personal items he'd kept in the wallet from his late uncle, but he was horribly angry that the man had taken something that was barely even Peter's.

There was no way in hell the teenager was going to explain to Mr. Stark that the card had been stolen from him not even a day after he'd gotten it. There was no way in hell was Peter going to explain that he, an enhanced that had just touted last night that he could take on the flying vulture guy, that he couldn't stand up to his foster father. Mr. Stark dealt with aliens. Peter could deal with Mr. Fowler.

His steps faltered.

He could. He could do it.

As he later found out, he couldn't.

  ---

Peter crept up the stairs of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, having already set all the groceries he'd had on the kitchen counter for the other kids to put away. He tried to keep the shaking from his fear, unsure if it stemmed from fear or anger, but he was largely unsuccessful as he stalked past the kids' rooms and approached the one at the end of the hall.

As far as Peter knew, no one had gone into Mr. Fowler's room before. There usually wasn't a point. The man kept such meticulous track of his belongings that it was impossible to take something without him noticing sooner or later, and, not only that, but Peter was used to the click of a lock sliding shut whenever the man left his room unattended or went to sleep for the night. It left the teenager facing the unknown as he finally stepped in front of the door that was, in that moment, bigger than anything he'd ever seen.

He took in a shaky breath. Maybe this was a bad idea. The ringing of fear trembling up and down his entire self told him so.

But the anger wasn't completely overridden by the fear, and Peter was full of bad ideas anyway, so he raised a fist and knocked rapidly. There was no response, so Peter knocked again, just as forceful as last time but now more hesitant.

With a horrifying shiver down his spine, the door swung open. Peter swallowed but refused to take the step back that he desperately wanted to as Mr. Fowler towered over him. The smell of alcohol wasn't any kind of freshly strong like it had been a couple of nights ago, which was the only thing reassuring about the moment.

"What do you want?" Mr. Fowler demanded.

"My wallet." He willed his voice not to break.

Mr. Fowler's eyes narrowed as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What?"

"My wallet. You took it and I want it back."

"It's my house, so it's my wallet."

"No it's not! It was my uncle's!" he protested.

"Oh, and was this your uncle's too?" The shiny black card was pulled out his pocket as Mr. Fowler flashed him a toothy grin. Peter's hands twitched with the need to reach out for it, but he kept his fists balled at his side. "Lying to your foster father now, huh? That was a nice little letter under your bed, too. New sugar daddy or something?"

Peter blanched, but then his face turned ghostly white. His voice was a horrified whisper. "You took my letter?"

"Under your bed? Really? You didn't even try, son!" Mr. Fowler taunted, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper and forcing it into Peter's hands. He tore it open, but the paper was so wrinkled he could barely read it anymore. "So, Tony Stark? I don't know if you sucked his dick or something, but I'm sure this card has plenty for me to use if it's connected to his account."

"What? No! That doesn't belong--"

He was cut off by a hand tugging a fistful of his hair. Peter winced but refused to let out a yelped cry even as he was dragged into Mr. Fowler's room. It wasn't much, he realized as he peered through squinted eyes at the bedroom. It was somehow grimy and tidy at the same time, with dust and dirt covering just about every corner, but his belongings were neatly lined and organized on the desk and bedside table. The only other thing that screamed about Mr. Fowler's uncleanliness was the bottles littering the floor that Peter had to fight not to trip over, made only harder as the fist let go of his hair and slapped him into the nearest wall.

"Now listen here, you little shit," Mr. Fowler started, cornering the scrambling teenager as his voice boomed so loud that surely all the kids downstairs could hear him. "I clothe you and house you and feed you, and I will not tolerate your levels of disrespect when you do nothing but run around like the little ungrateful shit you are! Anything you earn while under my roof belongs to me!"

"No it doesn't!" Peter found the courage to shout back. Mr. Fowler blinked in scowled surprise. "And you barely do any of that shit! I had these clothes before I got here, and you barely feed me! You barely feed any of the kids down there!! What the hell is wrong--"

His face stung with the slap that met it.

He grit his teeth, blinking away angry tears. It didn't hurt, it didn't hurt. He was Spider-Man. Being dropped into a lake had hurt, this was nothing. He couldn't really be hurt while he had these powers. He couldn't.

"SHUT UP!!!"

Peter cowered.

"You know nothing about what you're talking about, son," Mr. Fowler breathed, stalking forward until his face was only inches from Peter's and there was nowhere left to run. He scrunched his nose and screwed up his eyes, holding his breath against the man's stale breath as he turned his face away to stare past the man's shoulder. "Whatever you think, this is my house, and I took you in after your last foster parent got sick of your teenage horseshit. Sneaking out wasn't tolerated there, just as much as disrespect isn't tolerated here. So I think that's another strike, don't you? Or a good enough recommendation could get you to a juvenile detention center instead."

"No, please--"

The hand was in his hair again, tearing him forward with a pained wince and forcing him through the door. When Peter smacked up against the wall, he realized it wasn't the door to the hallway.

Scrambling, he swung around just in time to see the door slam shut and then click with the eerie noise of a lock, leaving Peter in the dark closet that was full of nothing but the stench of dirty clothes piled around his feet and the clinking of dusty bottles. He swallowed, wishing desperately he didn't make such stupid decisions, that he'd just kept his head down and forgotten about it and--

"Stay nice and quiet, and you'll be let out soon," Mr. Fowler called before the sound of the door clicked shut and the groaning of wood told him that the man was walking away.

And Peter was horribly alone.

 ---

  Tony glanced between the metal case sat on the table and the window displaying the New York night sky one last time before sighing and stepping off of the stool, Peter's shadow following him. He hadn't been Spider-Man all day, so Tony had no idea what could be holding him up. The kid hadn't texted at all either, though he was sure he'd at least set up the phone already.

Nervously, the billionaire tapped his fingers on the table, one of the last pieces of furniture that had yet to be packed on his floor. He'd delivered the letter himself, clearly addressed it to the kid and everything, but maybe he hadn't gotten it? Maybe it had been a little sketchy for a kid to get a letter with just initials on it and no return address. But he couldn't have gotten in trouble for anything like that, right? And Peter's foster father didn't have anything bad surrounding his name...

With a tired sigh, he asked his AI, "Anything?"

"Mr. Parker has still not entered the building."

"A few blocks out?"

"He does not appear on any security cameras." A moment. "It is past ten, sir. I do not think he is going to come."

"Keep an eye out for him, just in case." He continued to tap the table with a thoughtful hum. Just to double check. "Has the phone been activated?"

"Yes, sir. It started up this morning."

Okay, good, so he had gotten the letter.

"And the card?" he asked. His AI paused, and something hard settled in his stomach. "The card, Friday?"

"It has been in use multiple times since this morning." Tony blinked. That was something of a surprise, but he couldn't say he was disappointed. The kid looked like he could use a good meal or two. He took his jacket off, moving towards his bedroom.

"Great. Glad it's being put to use."

"Three hundred dollars have been spent on alcoholic beverages."

Tony froze where he stood, suspended in a feeling he couldn't even describe. Disappointment? Terror? Hurt? He stared down at the curly-haired shadow, eyes narrowing as he gaped at it. He hadn't exactly pegged the kid as someone who would buy boatloads of drinks, and he didn't even know if a fake ID would work for the kid. He looked all of twelve.

"Cut off the card until the next time I talk to him."

"Yes, sir."

"And track his phone. Where the hell is he right now?"

"His phone's location relays that he is in his foster home."

And that was that he supposed. The kid couldn't buy anymore alcohol and there wasn't anything Tony could do without talking to him directly.

Tony stepped into his bedroom, slipped into some old pajamas, and flopped onto bed with a twist in his gut. Something just felt wrong, and it was more than the kid buying alcohol that likely would barely affect him anyway.

His mind racing, Tony turned restlessly under the covers as the lights shut off around him. Peter's shadow disappeared, the room going with it, and when Tony blinked again, he found himself in complete darkness only broken by the shifting of clothes, the clink of bottles, and the sniffles of someone coming off of a breakdown.

He blinked back awake, sitting up and reaching for his phone. He scrolled through it until he found Peter's number and hit call. It rang. And rang. And rang.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Peter Parker! I'm busy right now, I guess, so call me later, and yeah! Have a good day! Oh! And leave your message after the beep! BEEEP!!"

Tony didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #tony stark #peter parker #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

[nntssy-old]

Writer’s Month 2021, Day 1 - Protective

Fandom: One Punch Man Characters/ships: Garou/Metal Bat (not really shippy though), Zenko, Tareo, Bang Word count: 1709 Rating: T?

A/N: Assume they’re  already on friendly terms, and Garou occasionally hangs around Metal Bat’s apartment/house.

*****

Tareo was about to answer when Garou sensed some sort of intrusion incoming. From above. On instinct, he stooped down, spreading his arms and keeping the little ones behind. Just in time to shield them from some sort of projectile landing just in front of the three.

No one was moving until the dust settled revealing someone's lower body sticking out of the ground in the middle of a little crater.   

No one would survive that.

There was some lingering sense of deja vu though. 

Still, Garou straightened up and was about to lure reluctant Zenko and Tareo away — the rule about violence and all that, and kids should have no business with corpses in general — when he heard some groans coming out of the pit as the legs clad in a dusty black wiggled.

Well, not many.

"Big brother?" Zenko's uncertain voice broke the silence further. Tareo looked at her in confusion and disbelief. Garou only quirked his brow. 

As if in response, the waggling of the black-clad body intensified, as the person was apparently trying to get out of the entrapment of the earth. Garou came closer to grab the legs and pull them up.

"Big brother, indeed," Garou commented smugly as he recognized the mess of dusty clothes, blood and swears that was hanging upside down in his hands and squirming violently. No wonder the butt looked familiar. "Not many people will survive diving headfirst into the asphalt." 

"Now, will ya put me the hell down, you @$#*&%@?" Garou was all too happy to oblige, and the hero was unceremoniously dropped the next instant.

Zenko rushed to her brother as he was straightening himself up, still looking at Garou angrily and muttering things under his breath. The string of curses stopped the moment Bad noticed her presence. His face quickly turned to concern as he noticed Tareo as well.

"Ya should get outta here, now! It's dangerous here!" he shouted looking at the sky in a mild panic — supposedly in the direction he came falling from.

As if on cue the city siren went off. It meshed in with the sound of buildings crumbling as a giant worm-like something emerged above them.

"Get the kids outta here!" Bad repeated, preparing to get straight back to fighting whatever that was, despite his sister clinging to his leg. Now it was directed at Garou.

"Maybe it's you who should crawl to safety," the other answered, glancing the hero up and down, "and I will deal with the monster." He looked at the worm-like creature looming in the sky. "You're already pretty beaten up, might not be up to the task," Garou finished with a grin.

"We don't have much time to lose." The creature started to move seemingly in their direction. "And running isn't exactly my speciality, so…"

"What is that suppo—" Garou started, but a loud screech interrupted him. At the same moment, he felt Tareo's trembling hands on his right leg.

"Quick!" Metal Bat was already shoving Zenko into Garou's arms, but she protested and didn't want to let go of her brother's jacket. "I dunno whether it can see or not, but I think I pissed it off big time, so it might come for me." He unclutched Zenko's hands. "Now, go!" Bad said with the kind of finality in his voice and eyes that perhaps only a parent figure would develop.

The worm-like monster was now pretty determinedly rushing at them. Indeed, there was no time to lose. Garou threw Zenko over his shoulder, picked Tareo under his other arm, and took off doing what he had done way too often in his life — running away.

***

Bang was coming back from his brother's dojo when the sirens went off. He started debating with himself whether he should assist with the threat — he was retired, after all, but still couldn't just walk away when people were in danger.

But his line of thought was interrupted. His former disciple — the same disciple he hadn't seen since that day — just ran past him — strangely, not in the direction of the most danger — carrying two kids. Garou was arguing with the girl over his shoulder and therefore didn't notice his former master.

Suspicious, Bang decided to investigate what could potentially be a kidnapping. Because Garou was involved, and he still felt responsible for his former protege. What were the chances he would just run into Garou like this another time? 

They have probably dispatched several heroes to handle the situation already.

***

Putting what he considered a safe distance between them and the monster, Garou stopped. They were up on a hill in some park in the next city. It had a nice view over a city that was being ravaged.

"Alright, this should be far enough," he said lowering both kids on the ground.

But the girl did not let go of him completely, still clutching at his shirt, the sharp and determined look on her face not unlike her brother's.

"Go help him."

"Help who?" Play dumb. It will buy you some time.

Zenko only glared in response though. Those dark eyes of hers looked way too much like her brother's at the moment. Fierce. Stubborn.

"As much as I hate to admit it, your big bro can take care of himself, Little Bat," he said, looking in the direction where supposedly the fight was. "Not to mention, if anything was to happen to you, I would need to find another place to freeload." He made a quoting gesture in the air. No. If anything was to happen to Zenko, that would be the least of his concerns. Metal Bat would hunt him to the ends of the continent and maybe even farther, he was pretty sure of it. In the past, Garou would've been excited at the prospect, but now… not so much. Moreover, he wouldn't want the kid to get harmed. He looked down on Zenko, who was glowering at him with arms crossed, and Tareo, who was watching the monster's rampage from afar and sweating profusely. Either of them.

Another building fell in the distance. Could be either the monster's or the hero's work with more or less equal probability.

"Go help him," Zenko said again with pleading eyes, "please."

Oh, she has decided to change her tactics.

Garou was trying to look anywhere but on her face, while coming up with a convincing response, but truth to be told, the current monster was almost the size of the Elder Centipede who was taken down with a combined effort of several S-class heroes, or so he heard, and Bad had been already looking like shit when they had left him, and it had been half an hour already since…

"We will go to the nearest shelter. There should be one nearby… Really close..." Zenko kept piling up arguments, while yanking at his pant leg.

Garou's eyes were glued to the horizon. With every passing minute, the idea to return seemed more appealing. He wasn't one for patience after all.

"There are probably other heroes there already." It was the only thing he came up with in response. 

Garou was so distracted thinking about what was happening far away that he didn't sense someone approaching until it was too late. Too late to hide, that is. 

"My-my… It seems every time we meet you get more children around you..." a familiar elderly voice interrupted his thoughts and Zenko's nagging. All three of them tensed and were looking towards the approaching old man — his old master, Bang.

Suddenly, with one audacious thought, it all clicked together. Instead of seeing another problem to solve, Garou's mind came up with a solution. So before the old man started with uneasy questions, he took both kids by the hand and pulled them towards Bang. 

"Hey, old man… You wouldn't mind looking after these kids for me for a little bit, would you?" And before anyone could say anything, he took off.

His relationship with Bang wasn't the best, but he knew there were very few places safer than in his teacher's care.

Unless you were a criminal. Or a monster. Or both.

***

Going back was faster without an additional load of two kids, one of which was very much against leaving. Finding Metal Bat shouldn't be hard — he probably was in the epicenter of the destruction, no doubt causing at least half as much damage as the monster.

It seemed, Garou found him just at the right moment: Bad — apparently slammed into the ground previously — was about to stand up, and the worm-like monster was gearing to dive down and swallow the hero. Even a single thought didn't pass through the former Hero Hunter's mind before the instinct took over. In a split moment, he dashed forward. The monster hit the ground, but the two of them were already a dozen meters away.

***

In one second Bad was trying to gain his footing, in the next he was swept away again. This time it was different though. When the world stopped moving, he was able to make out the golden eyes and a familiar wolfish grin through his dizziness. He was held by Garou. Bridal style.

"The hell are ya doing?"

"I just saved you, dipshit."

"Put me down!"

"A 'thank you' would have been nice. But as you wish…" And Bad was unceremoniously dropped down.

"Where are the kids?" he asked standing up.

"Safe. We ran into Bang. And your sister insisted that I come and help you." Garou quickly glanced over Bad. "You look like a bloody shit, by the way."

He felt like that too, but he would agree with the Hero Hunter only over his own dead body.

"So," said Garou as they both stood now — half-facing each other, half-facing the giant worm who tore back up through the ground, "what do we have here?"

"Don't remember agreeing to yer help," argued Bad slinging his bat over the shoulder.

"No one was asking you." The other stretched his arms with a crunch.

A loud screech rang through the air.

They never fought together before, only against each other. 

This can be interesting.

#writersmonth2021 #One Punch Man #Garou (OPM) #Metal Bat (Bad) #Zenko (OPM) #Tareo (OPM) #Bang (OPM) #Batarou #me writes #i'm not good with either slang or swearing. sorry #i might expand on this later #i'm not even sure it fits the 'protective' prompt #okay why the *** look so ugly now

[hargrove-mayfields]

so sorry im late asking this (i was waiting for you to get more, super surprised you didn’t get more asks tbh) but could I hear more about your wips “I have a crush on Barbara Holland” “baby fic” and “HOH Steve” also if it’s not too much “girlyfriends” and “cali house” and “medical emergency” ik ik that’s a lot but I’d honestly want hear about ALL of you wips in that list if i could. thank u in advance

It’s alright anon! I’ll accept these asks until I run out of WIPs to talk about!

I have a crush on Barbara Holland- This one is a soulmates au, where Steve has his soulmates initials, B.H., on his wrist, and he is whole heartedly convinced that that person is Barb. He’s very much in love with her, and there’s lots of talk about how pretty and nice she is (hence the title lol) but eventually she reveals that he isn’t her soulmate. Before she had hid the initials on her own wrist under a watch or a chunky bracelet, but she feels guilty, and shows Steve that her mark had long ago faded, because her soulmate passed away when they were in elementary school. Steve decides, despite how much value he used to hold in the whole soulmate thing, he doesn’t care about who some stupid mark says he should be with, so him and Barb date until her death. He’s heart broken, but the sadness very quickly turns into so much anger after Billy Hargrove, another B.H. rolls into town with a little S.H. on his wrist. He feels like the universe or whoever is even in charge of this soulmate bullshit is spiting him for thinking he could fall in love with someone he wasn’t destined to be with, so he rejects Billy for a long, long time, even after he himself figured it out that Steve is his match. When he does start to feel that way about Billy, he struggles with so much guilt and has to go through a very long grieving process to be comfortable with his feelings, because he’s not even sure if they’re his genuine feelings or the work of this soulmate bond. Very long and very angsty.

baby fic- Nancy gets pregnant that first time at the party with Tommy and Carol, and her and Steve try really really hard to make things work out for their baby, but it just isn’t meant to be. They make an arrangement that the Harringtons are very not pleased with, where Nancy has the baby at the Byers house half the time (because let’s be honest I think the Wheelers house is not really a safe place to be raising a baby) and Steve has her the rest of the time. Because it was like, a much more mature breakup without the cheating and the drunken confessions, they’re still pretty close friends. When the upside down starts making an appearance again, they have to try to figure out how to navigate it with this little four month old baby, and that means getting some help involved. Billy shows up at the Byers and instead of a fight, Steve’s all exhausted like oh good, you’re finally here, and gives him the worlds fastest run down of this monster fighting shit with a crying baby on his hip, and like, Billy just can’t say no to him asking him to go into the tunnels while he watches the baby. There is eventual Harringrove after a while, but it’s a slow burn for sure. This is also probably the least serious and least angsty thing I have ever started to write.

HOH Stevie- They’re all in the government hospital getting their post Starcourt once overs, Billy and El of course being rushed into surgery, and Steve’s about to get discharged when he gets addressed by name and just, does not respond at all. The doctor is like hmm, and checks his ears, and they find out he has almost no hearing in his left ear, and only about forty percent in the right. All that head trauma from the Russians and then all of the explosions of the fireworks, it leaves him deaf.

Everyone tries to be supportive, but his dad refuses to let him get hearing aids because he doesn’t believe he actually needs them (Steve’s a diagnosed hypochondriac) so for the next several months while his parents are still home waiting for their next trip, he’s struggling. He basically gets iced out by the party because he just can’t hear anything they’re saying, and the kids get tired of repeating themselves, and Nancy got insulted the one time he told her her voice is too quiet, and Robin wants to do things right for him, but she forgets sometimes, and will ramble on about something without looking at him and everytime he’s like great, I didn’t catch a single word of that, lovely talk though. It’s very frustrating and isolating and nobody seems to want to make accommodations for him.

The very same day that his parents leave for their latest vacation, he goes back to hospital. At first he just has to get more testing done, since it had been upwards of six months since the last time they saw him, and on his way out he notices Max in the waiting room chairs. He hadn’t seen much of her at all since Starcourt, so he checks on her, and at first she tells him to go away, because her friends have said some not so nice things about how much time she spends at the hospital, and assumes Steve is there to tell her Billy isn’t worth it too. Because that’s not the case, he ends up going in the room to visit Billy with her.

They do the small talk, the awkward, sorry about the fact that you’ve been in the hospital for six months now and nobody wants to come see you thing, and at some point Billy realizes that Steve can’t hear a damned thing he’s saying. He tests his theory by saying Steve’s name when he’s not looking and just waiting for him to answer but, surprise he doesn’t because he didn’t hear it at all, and Billy’s just like, you’re deaf aren’t you?

The progression of the fic is basically Steve coming to visit Billy everytime he has an appointment for his hearing (and more, but Bill doesn’t know that) but the day of his last appointment to make sure his hearing aids are functioning as well as they ever will for how bad off his hearing is, Billy’s acting different.

When he’d first walked into his room Billy had been surprisingly bright eyed and bushy-tailed for what he went through, but now he’s just acting all mopey. Max makes him tell Steve what’s wrong, and he confesses that he feels like he’s going to get left behind now that Steve’s all better, because then he has no real reason to visit him anymore. But Steve has one very good reason, and the rest of the story is him making sure Billy knows it.

girlyfriends- This’n’s sort of a non-canon compliant character study about aromantic! Billy, focusing on how awful and uncomfortable he felt with his past girlfriends, messing up dates and never going as far as they wanted him to, which at the time he pinned on liking boys instead, but then after he gets with Steve, he feels like this is different and he likes it, but he’s still not too big on all the lovey dovey, romance stuff. He rationalizes it as like, maybe just being a side effect of him being an asshole or something, but he‘s actually super insecure about how he is in relationships. There is a fluffy resolution though where he embraces his identity, it’s really not all doom and gloom, boo hoo I hate myself stuff.

cali house- Years after Starcourt, the boys have moved to a decent house in California using their government hush hush money, and they’re there for only about a month when Billy’s mother shows up at their door.

She says she caught wind that her son was back in town and wanted to come see him, after all this time. Billy of course lets her back in his life immediately, his mom meant so much to his recovery process and now that she’s here, he can’t turn her away, but Steve’s a little suspicious of her intentions.

He thinks that if she wanted to see Billy, she would’ve done that years ago before he ever even left Cali in the first place, or that you know, she wouldn’t have fucking left him behind. He tries to bring it up with Billy gently, but he won’t hear it, and he feels beyond hurt by the suggestion because he thinks Steve is just jealous that he’s spending time with his mother, who he hasn’t seen for upwards of fifteen years at this point.

They fight and avoid each other for a few days until Billy’s momma admits when he brings it up, over lunch or something saying like, “Steve thought you were using me or something, isn’t that crazy?” and she’s just like “Well, actually...”and tells him that money was tight, and she needed a little extra money, so Billy and his disability checks and his rich (boy)friend seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some.

He goes back home to Steve and expects him to be mad, to rub it in that he was right, but he’s really not, he’s super supportive, and you know, Billy finally realizes he doesn’t need to have this bullshit family thing with his mother, because he already has one, Max and Steve and his friends and all the people that actually care about him.

medical emergency (tw attempted suicide)-

Billy, who’s living on his own in an apartment downtown after Starcourt, deliberately doesn’t get his prescriptions refilled because he’s so done. He’s weak and he’s hurting and he doesn’t feel like himself anymore, and he just feels like he wouldn’t care if his body gave up, if he suffocated in his sleep or had another heart attack. So he doesn’t take care of himself, and when he runs out of oxygen he just doesn’t go get anymore, but he’s halfway to choking on his own blood when he realizes he doesn’t want to die.

He calls Steve, because he’s not calling the cops and he can’t remember anyone’s numbers in his panic, but Steve’s is written on his calendar, scribbled there because they were supposed to make plans for something with the kids. Steve takes him to the hospital, having to fight him to put the CPAP on him to make sure his lungs didn’t collapse before they could get him to Hawkins General, and Billy’s just, so bone tired.

They do all their treatment stuff and get his body back under control, so Steve finally asks him what happened, if maybe he needed someone around to help him remember his meds and stuff, and Billy just, he breaks, like a dam overfilled he just pours out with all of this helplessness and sadness he’d been feeling, how he doesn’t want to live the way he does or at all anymore, and Steve’s heart just breaks for him.

He moves in with him, nobody’s willing to leave him alone after what happened, and Steve (along with Billy getting a new therapist because the old one was incompetent enough to not notice how bad off he was) helps him to realize he has something to live for.

#answered #anonymous #ejs wips #ej writer #yeah theres no such thing as sending it late #if y’all want to ask me just ask me! dont worry about it!

[neighborhood-goblin]

COF Highschool au Chapter 1

“We can just put it back,” Sev said, studying the golden objects on the table.

“What do you mean ‘just put it back’? Look at it!” Tristan exclaimed. It was true that perhaps the trophy was a little worse for wear. The figure on top had snapped off the base pillars, and the side of it was splattered in mud. This is the worst day of my life.

“Let’s clean it off, glue the top back on and stick it back in the case. Easy-peasy.” Tristan was already shaking his head even before Sev finished speaking.

“It’s already daytime, people will see us, and I bet they’ve already noticed the missing trophy!” Tristan ran a panicked hand through his hair and spared the broken trophy another look. He froze.

“I know what to do,” He spoke slowly, carefully, glancing towards the closed door.

“What?” Sev asked, curious as to what Tristan could possibly have thought of.

“We hide it. We hide it somewhere where it won’t be found and we don’t tell anyone what we did.”

“It’s a trophy, not a murder, Tristan,” Sev reminded him, despite the fact he was already coming up with possible places to hide it. His house would be the obvious choice, since Tristan’s dad was the principal and they couldn’t risk him finding out about the broken trophy. “But I guess I can find a spot for it at my house.” Tristan’s face broke into a grin.

“Thanks, Sev. Will you be able to hide it for the school day?” Sev nodded and shoved the trophy pieces into the depths of his backpack.

The pair emerged from the empty classroom into the flooded hallways. Students were everywhere, clustering around lockers, chatting in the middle of the halls, and making their way to first period. Sev and Tristan nodded quickly at each other before separating and disappearing into the crowd.

***

Nyk had to sprint to Spanish in order to claim the seat beside Anders before Latham could. The older boy raised an eyebrow at her as she flopped down on the chair, panting.

“I want to join the cheer squad,” She breathed out. Anders grinned at her.

“Finally! We’re desperate enough for members that I even asked Sev to join. Sev!” He exclaimed. “Come to the gym during lunch, you can try out, and we can get you your uniform.” Nyk let out a relieved sigh and thanked Anders. The bell rang. A binder slammed down onto the table.

“You’re in my seat.” She looked up to see Latham glaring at her.

“Jeez, okay, I’m moving..” Nyk gathered her stuff and retreated to her usual spot in the back, next to Kade. He was reading something on his phone and glanced at her when she sat down.

“Have you seen the school’s website?” He asked. She shook her head and he held his phone out to her. She took it and skimmed the page in front of her.

Recently Auzerec’s High’s first place soccer trophy was stolen. We are asking any and all students involved to come forward and return the trophy by the end of the school day. If the trophy is not returned by the end of the school day today, then students may be pulled for questioning.

Nyk laughed and handed Kade back his phone. “This is ridiculous. It’s a trophy! They can just get a new one.” She quickly quieted as their teacher, Mrs. Dee entered the classroom. Nyk pulled out her phone and held it under the table to text Tristan.

Nyk: did you see the website lol

♥ Tris ♥: No? What does it say?

“His contact name has hearts in it?” Kade’s voice was practically disgusted. Nyk’s face heated.

“Mind your own business!” She hissed at him.

Nyk: some kids stole a trophy apparently

♥ Tris ♥: Did they say who did it?

Nyk: no but their gonna be questioning people

♥ Tris ♥: They’re*

Nyk: ok

A hand tapped on the wood in front of her. “Phone please, Veronyka. You can pick it up after class.” Nyk met Mrs. Dee’s eyes, quickly silenced her phone, and handed it to her, embarrassed that she’d been caught. Kade smirked at her as their teacher walked back to the front of the classroom. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned her attention to Mrs. Dee as she began to write verbs on the whiteboard.

***

Nyk :) : some kids stole a trophy apparently

Tristan froze. Surely if he’d been busted he would’ve already been called to his father’s office. Right? He tapped out a response with shaking fingers.

Tristan: Did they say who did it?

It took Nyk an agonizingly long minute to respond. Tristan bit his nail and waited for her to finish typing. Did Sev get caught with the trophy?

Nyk :) : no but their gonna be questioning people

He grinned in relief.

Tristan: They’re

Nyk :) : ok

He rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone before the teacher caught him with it. It was far too early in the day for him to be doing statistics, but that didn’t stop Mr. Ellet from passing out worksheets. Tristan frowned at his, noticing that it was different from the sheet belonging to the kid sitting next to him. Again? I need to have a talk with my dad; he can’t keep doing this. Nevertheless, he picked up his pencil and began to fill out the paper.

The bell signaling the end of first period rang, and Tristan rose from his seat. He hurried out into the hall and shot Sev a few texts.

Tristan: They know the trophy’s missing.

Tristan: You still have it right?

Tristan: Sev

Tristan: Sev

Tristan: Sev

Tristan: SEV!

Sev: jhgfkdjhgkdjf

Sev: Yes I still have the trophy

Sev: You can relax

He opted not to respond to Sev’s last text.

***

“That was great!” Anders shouted at Nyk. She beamed at him. “Okay come over here so I can get your size and uniform.” She jogged over to the other side of the gym “Alright, you can go back to lunch now.” She nodded and grabbed her things.

She hurried to the cafeteria and slid into an empty spot at her table.

“Guess who’s officially a cheerleader!” Nyk exclaimed excitedly. Kade grinned at her and Tristan congratulated her. Latham didn’t bother to look up at her, probably still peeved that she had briefly borrowed his seat during Spanish. She glanced around for Elliot and Sparrow but they weren’t there.

“That’s cool, Nyk,” Tristan flashed her a smile. She offered one back, and could practically feel Kade rolling his eyes at them. Latham stood up and walked away, most likely leaving to track down Anders.

K: Ugh get a room you guys

Nyk smirked at her phone.

Nyk: someday youre gonna have a crush that i can tease you about

Kade took suspiciously long to respond.

K: unlikely

“Are you guys seriously texting each other while I’m right here?” Tristan gave each of them a mock offended look. Nyk and Kade rolled their eyes at him. “Very uncool, guys.” He paused and glanced at their table. “Hey, why doesn’t Sev ever eat with us?”

Nyk thought for a moment. The question was kind of out of the blue, honestly. Sev showed up for the study group and then they occasionally waved to him in class or in the halls. But that was it. He wasn’t really friends with any of them. She’d never really thought about what Sev did when he wasn’t with them. Did he even have friends at all?

“I was under the impression that he didn’t want to,” Kade said. Nyk had forgotten that Tristan was still waiting for an answer.

“Well I don’t think he’s really hanging out with anyone else. We should see if he wants to have lunch with us tomorrow,” Tristan nodded as he said this, as if confirming that he liked his idea. Nyk and Kade looked at each other. Kade shrugged and returned to his salad bowl.

***

Sev twisted the key through the lock and yanked the door open. Hestia would be home soon, so he quickly grabbed the trophy pieces and shoved them in the back of his closet, where hopefully she would be unable to find them. His phone chimed several times in a row.

Tristan: Did you hide the trophy?

Tristan: Did your parents find out about it?

Tristan: Sev

Tristan: Sev

Tristan: Sev

Sev: You have got to stop

Sev: Yes the trophy is hidden, no my mother did not find out about it

Tristan: Thank heavens

Tristan: Hey do you want to have lunch with the study group tomorrow? You don’t usually eat with us.

Sev: Hard pass.

Sev: Stop texting me.

Sev turned off his phone. He didn’t want Tristan to keep trying to convince him to hang out with the group. If he was being honest, he was pretty close to quitting it. He didn’t really fit in with them. He was always the outsider. It felt pointless to attend their study group if no one except Tristan was even going to try to engage with him outside of it. He tossed his phone on his bed and went to kill time before Hestia got back. He could probably fit a movie in.

***

This is so bad. I can’t do this. I’m going to say the wrong thing oh my-

“Come in, Tristan,” His father’s voice sounded from the open doorway. Tristan slowly walked in and sat down in the chair that was closest to the principal’s desk. Unsurprisingly no student had come forward and returned the trophy, so interviews were being conducted. Tristan met his father’s eyes.

“Now, obviously this is just a formality.” Cassian informed him. “But still. Where were you on the night before last?” Tristan began to panic.

We didn’t have a cover story! What am I supposed to say?!

“I was hanging out with my friend, Sev,” He began. Cassian nodded for him to continue. “We got some food and went back to his place to watch a movie.” He opened his mouth to continue, but his father held up a hand.

“That’s good enough, you can go.” Tristan thanked his father and quickly left. I did it!

His feelings of relief were quickly halted when he saw who was being interviewed next. It was Sev. Tristan hastily grabbed the other boy’s arm and whispered in his ear: “We got food and watched a movie at your house.”

Sev gave him a brief nod and disappeared into Cassian’s office. Tristan returned to class and worried about Sev and the trophy. Then he went to his next class and worried about Sev and the trophy. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Tristan: Okay I know you told me to leave you alone but please tell me nothing went wrong in your interview.

Sev: It was fine. We got burgers, fries, and shakes, then watched Spirited Away

Tristan: Studio Ghibli?

Sev: Yeah it’s a good movie.

Tristan: Never seen it.

Sev: Well don’t go around telling people that, we’ve got to keep our cover intact

Tristan: What, are you a spy now?

Sev: You’re the one who wanted to hide the trophy

Tristan: That’s fair.

***

When Tristan got home, it was clear that his father was frustrated with the theft of the trophy. He and the school’s safety officers had interviewed the bulk of the students and found no viable culprits. Tristan had never been a very good liar, and he was afraid that he might crack if his father continued to chase his own tail in an effort to find whoever had stolen the trophy.

Tristan: I think we need to tell my dad that we did it.

Sev: ???? why

Tristan: He’s getting very frustrated at the whole situation.

Sev: Ok? He is a grown man he can deal with himself

Tristan: I really just think we should

Sev: Ok then go tell him if it’s making you so upset

Tristan: I don’t know if I can.

Sev: Then don’t Tristan: I feel like I have to.

Sev: Then do it

Tristan: I’m worried about getting in trouble.

Sev: dude just stop

Truthfully, Tristan wasn’t quite sure of what to do. On one hand, telling his father would get the whole situation over with, and he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping any covers intact. But on the other, he was facing some probably pretty serious repercussions for what he and Sev had done. It had been his idea too, to take the trophy. He only wanted to take a picture of it, to send as a joke to the study group chat. Instead the trophy had fallen and broken, and he had gotten stuck in this mess.

Finally, he poked his head into his dad’s office. His father was on the phone with someone, so Tristan waited until he hung up.

“Who was that?” He asked, hoping to get a somewhat pleasant conversation going before he confessed. Cassian graced him with a rare smile.

“That was Sevro Lastlight, calling to tell me that he was the one who took the trophy.” What?

“Really?” Tristan responded after a moment. Why would he do that?

“Yes, really,” His father replied, sifting through a stack of papers on his desk. Tristan slowly retreated from the room. He still hadn’t fully processed what had happened. Why would Sev confess for me?

Tristan: You called my dad??

Sev: Yeah

Tristan: Why?

Sev: eh I’ve already done worse things than stealing a trophy

Tristan: That was really awesome of you, Sev.

Sev: np

Tristan: np?

Sev: No problem

Sev: How do you not know that

Tristan: Hey, have lunch with the study group. I know you already said no, but you’re my friend and I feel bad that you eat alone.

Sev: I don’t mind eating alone

Tristan: Please?

Sev: Fine.

Tristan cheered. Maybe today wasn’t that bad after all.

#Crown of Feathers #Crown of Feathers au #Heart of Flames #Wings of Shadow #Nicki Pau Preto #Tristan Flamesong #Veronyka Ashfire #Nyk Ashfire #Sevro Lastlight #Kade #Elliot #Sparrow #Latham #Anders #Tristnyka #Sevade #Antham

[hotchley]

aaron

summary: “some of us grow up to catch them.”

ssa hotchner. former prosecutor. unit chief of the behavioural analysis unit. best shot in the whole of the quantico building. dad to jack and his entire team.

aaron hotchner. just a boy, trying to make it through the day.

(alternatively known as the backstory, the moments between, and the hotch episode we never got)

read chapter one here!

chapter two: the moments in between

trigger warnings for this chapter :  minor character deaths, death of a parent, implied/referenced child abuse, court cases involving a not guilty verdict to a charge of abuse, arson, references to cancer, references to the death of a child, vomit/sickness, references to self-harm and suicide, stabbing, canon-typical violence, blood, implied/reference drug addiction, references to domestic violence (this is between hotch's parents)

Aaron Hotchner was a lawyer full of contradictions.

He had graduated at the top of his class, but he never once referenced his own father’s abilities when he started practicing. And instead of becoming a defence lawyer- a role that would have led to him holding a position of power within weeks- he became a criminal prosecutor.

He claimed it was what called to him.

In reality, it was because he refused to let anything else be tainted by the memory of his father. He remembered the nights where his father would come home and talk about the horrible things his clients had done. He remembered how he had laughed and said he would be able to make all of those things go away with a few words. He remembered how his stomach had tightened at the injustice of it all.

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was an adult. He was as close to happy as he could be when he spent his days looking at photos of people who had lives, and hopes, and dreams that were cut short. When an ordinary day at work meant putting some bad people behind bars whilst he was forced to let others go free.

When he was in court, he was amazing. He was cold and emotionless. People genuinely believed he had no emotions, that there was nothing that could faze him. Killers and abusers would hurl insults at him, defence lawyers would pull random laws from nowhere and he would take it. He would think on his feet and come up with something. But then there were sudden moments where he would look so vulnerable. Like when he spoke to a child, a young woman, the family that thought they hadn’t done anything to save their loved one.

The only time he would smile was when the blonde woman in his life would appear. Sometimes it was with lunch, dressed semi-casually, hair slightly messy and pen on her face from whatever it was she was doing. Other times it would be in a pretty dress. Those would be the days where he would look mildly terrified for a moment, before grinning and leading her out the office. On the bad days where they would be forced to come in on a weekend, she would come in with her own work and keep him company.

Haley had gone into teaching. High school history, although she always helped with the various productions held. She was a natural with the kids, always doing her best to be understanding and helpful, instead of confrontational and harsh. Despite this, there were still nights where she would come home, not saying anything. Those nights, Aaron would wrap his arms around her and let her cry about the injustice of the system.

Those were the nights he remembered just how lucky he was that she had taken a chance on him, unlike everyone else, who had left him to suffer. He didn’t want to think about where he would’ve been without her. Or if he would’ve even been anywhere on this earth.

So their lives weren’t perfect, and he woke up screaming some nights, but they were good. They both had stable jobs in the same area, which meant they could eat dinner together and fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. Haley liked linking their hands together so she could look at their wedding rings.

The wedding had been small, more for her parents than anyone else. He still didn’t believe he was worth loving. She had always dreamt of a wedding, but with Aaron none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was him being around. Her parents however, weren’t having any of it and even offered to pay for the wedding if that was the problem.

Haley had very kindly told them to keep their money. If her and Aaron were to get married, they would do it the way they wanted to, with their savings and their budget.

In the end, the wedding had been a compromise. Haley’s entire family, all of her high school friends and sorority sisters were invited, and everyone but Meredith attended. Aaron’s mother and brother came, as well as some of his friends from law school, but the list of people he actually wanted there was even shorter than Haley’s. She refused a seating plan for that exact reason.

After they cut the cake, they managed to sneak away for a few minutes. The wedding had been outdoors. They could see the stars. And when Aaron looked at her, he fell in love all over again. He could hear the music faintly, and so he had offered his hand and they had danced, feeling like they were seventeen all over again. That night, there had been no darkness inside him. Only joy.

And as one of his favourite authors, Joseph Campbell, had written: find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

But when you saw the things he did, it was difficult to find a place where joy could survive. And even when it was there, it was temporary. Because no matter what he, and everyone else in the district attorney’s office did, the evil never stopped. There was always somebody else getting hurt. Another victim not being believed. A lawyer quitting because they couldn’t keep looking at the worst of humanity and surviving.

Aaron’s own last case haunted him years after he joined the FBI.

He had been on edge for a while. Christmas had come and gone. With it, the never-ending questions from various colleagues and family members about when he was next coming home. When was Haley going to have a baby? Were they even trying for a child? Was Aaron having some difficulties? Or worst of all, when was he going to let go of his grand delusions and silly ideas and settle down as a defence lawyer?

Returning to his real home- the apartment him and Haley resided in, that had come to life with their little knick-knacks- had been a relief. She wasn’t fond of going home and seeing everyone that had failed Aaron, but she loved her family and friends. Aaron could never get away fast enough. She respected that. It was why they worked.

The new year came, and with it, new cases.

Aaron wasn’t trying to bring a killer to justice with only the evidence from the crime scenes and the testimony of families. He was trying to save an innocent child and make sure the only monsters in their life were the ones imaginary ones under the bed, instead of the father they said was abusing him and his mother.

It was like looking in a mirror. An innocent child finally snapping and telling the police the truth about their home life. But where Aaron had been mocked and told to stop being a liar, the police had listened. Gathered the evidence. They had done their job. Now it was time for Aaron to do his.

He poured over the files for hours. He found every piece of evidence he could. He would not fail this child. Not the same way he had been. He would find the truth behind every hospital visit, between every tear they had ever shed and he would make sure that the old bastard’s wife and son never had to be scared for their lives ever again.

Aaron was going to do what nobody ever did for him.

It was a week before the trial. New evidence had been located. It was all important, obviously, but there was something they were missing. Something Aaron knew would make all the difference to their case. He just needed to find out.

His phone lit up. Sean was calling him. He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be dealing with his younger brother’s complaints in that moment. And he certainly couldn’t be lending him any more money. Him and Haley were saving for a mortgage. Then they would have a real home. Somewhere to call their own.

Somewhere to eventually raise their own children.

Sean tried to call him two more times. And Aaron declined two more times. It was a bit strange that he was phoning so consecutively, but it was probably nothing. No, not probably, definitely. It always was.

He turned back to the files, making sure his phone was on silent. When the clock ticked to six, he hurriedly locked majority of the files away in his cabinet and put the ones that had just come through into his briefcase. Haley had planned a nice evening for the two of them. But if- when- he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at least he could do something productive.

There were two more missed calls from Sean. Aaron made a mental note to phone him when he got home.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then I’m yours, I promise,” he said as he entered their living room, shoes already neatly put away on the porch.

There were two packed bags on the couch. Haley was sat, wearing a black dress, hands in her lap, landline next to her. Her head was bent, but her body was shaking as tears slipped down her cheek, dampening the fabric.

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he knelt in front of her. “Baby,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Baby, what happened? Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“Your mom’s gone,” she said.

“What?” Aaron whispered.

“I’m so sorry Aaron. I am so- that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you. It’s just- Sean said she was admitted to the hospital earlier, and she passed away about an hour ago. They phoned here because you didn’t answer your cell phone. I tried to explain everything, really, but they wouldn’t let me speak and-”

“She’s really gone,” Aaron said.

Haley embraced him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck as he sobbed, the knowledge still not sinking in, but the emptiness in his heart was threatening to overwhelm him entirely. They sat like that for what may have been hours or minutes as his body shook. Only when his tears turned to hiccups did Haley pull away, gently wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“You should shower. There’s nothing else you can do now,” she said.

Aaron shook his head. Haley stood and led him to the bathtub.

“All you need to do is keep your head up for me, okay?”

The shower had no effect on him. Haley helped him dress. He felt like a small child, needing someone’s assistance to button his shirt up. But he couldn’t make his body cooperate with him. He couldn’t do anything, still in shock that she was gone.

Haley put the bags in the boot. Aaron got in the passenger side. He spent the journey staring out the window. When the buildings became more familiar, he closed his eyes, not opening them until they reached Haley’s old home. He turned to her in confusion.

“Sean is staying with a friend tonight. Going back to that house is not something you need to do today. My parents already said we could stay with them.”

Of course they did. Because everyone must’ve already known that his mother died. His mother had died and he hadn’t been there because he’d ignored his brother’s phone calls. What kind of person did that make him?

Haley no longer had the key. She rang the doorbell, one arm still wrapped around him as they awkwardly stood outside. Hotch remembered the first time he had gone to her house for dinner. It had been after his father passed away. He’d spent the entire meal feeling uncomfortable. Like the Brooks’ weren’t going to approve of him.

Her mother had hugged him, cradling the back of his head, whispering her condolences, both for what had been lost and for what the town had failed to do. Roy Brooks had shaken his hand, saying that anyone would be proud to call him their son. Jessica had dragged him to one side and said they’d all known about Haley sneaking him in during the night, but nobody knew what to say.

When he got home, he crawled into bed and sobbed. For the first time, somebody loved him unconditionally.

It was her mother that answered the door. When she saw who it was, she ushered them in. Aaron remembered at the last moment that he was supposed to take his shoes off. Haley led him to the living room.

Roy embraced him. “You’re freezing,” he whispered. “Darling, put some tea on. Aaron, how are you feeling?”

He shook his head. He did not deserve kindness. Not in this moment.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Just drink some tea and then got some sleep. Haley’s old bedroom has been set up for the two of you. And we’ll both be here if you need anything. The next few days are going to be draining for both of you, so please, don’t hesitate in asking for any kind of support.”

“Thank you Papa,” Haley said, rubbing her husband’s back.

Aaron tried to smile, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

Roy was the one who drove him to the funeral home. Haley had offered, but she had already driven them from their apartment, which had tired her out because she hated driving, so Aaron had declined, having every intention to bear the burden alone. But as he was slipping his shoes on, Roy had emerged, saying nobody should have go alone.

Sean was waiting outside for the two of them, eyes red, biting his nails. When Aaron looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine him as the eighteen-year-old about to go to college that he was. When Aaron looked at his little brother, he just saw the little boy who didn’t understand that their dad wasn’t coming home. Only this time, there were no comforting lies to give him. He understood everything. Including Aaron’s failure.

“How could you?” Sean whispered the moment he saw his brother.

Aaron looked down.

“She was in the hospital, constantly asking where you were. She didn’t care that I was there. She just wanted to know where her precious baby was, and I had to keep lying and say that you were coming when in reality, I had no fucking clue where you were. It was not supposed to be me holding her hand. It was supposed to be you. But you weren’t there, and so you have no right to turn up, now looking all sad and pathetic.”

Michael Hotchner had not been right about much. But he had been right about one thing. Aaron Hotchner was his mirror. Sean Hotchner was his son.

“Sean Hotchner. That is enough. You do not get to disrespect your brother or your mother like that. Go inside, and do not create another scene,” Roy snapped.

When Sean departed, he turned to Aaron, who was shaking.

“Son?”

“He’s right,” Aaron whispered. “I should have been there. He- Sean phoned me and I didn’t answer because I thought it was stupid and I had this case and- I failed her.”

“Look at me. It’s not your fault. It was her time to go, and you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. Sean is angry and grieving, and he doesn’t mean a single word of what he said. You’re a good man, doing a good job and you make my daughter happy. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, not truly believing him. He followed Sean into the funeral home, where they spent the next few hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Aaron wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t know how. Not when Sean stood as far away from him as possible.

The funeral was a day later. Once again, Haley held his hand until the priest called him up to say a few words. Aaron managed to make it through his eulogy with minimal tears, but the moment he was back beside his wife, he turned away from the grave, letting the tears fall.

The people were silently judging him for what he had failed to do. Roy glared at everyone that dared tried to voice these opinions. They were wrong. Aaron hadn’t failed anyone. He’d gotten there the moment he was supposed to, and if those people were even half as religious as they liked to claim they were, they would know that.

“You take as long as you need,” Haley whispered, when everyone else, even Sean had departed.

Aaron nodded, holding the flowers he’d grabbed from the car to his chest like a baby. He watched as Haley left, going to sit in the car to give him the space he needed. He’d told them all to drive home, that the walk would do him some good. He watched on unsteady legs as the car faded from view.

And then he fell to his knees, sobbing, one hand pressed to his mouth to stop too much noise from escaping, the other blindly feeling around for the flowers left by Sean. Their mother had hated roses- somehow, she always managed to prick her finger on the thorns. The only reason they had ever been in the house was because on the days where people would come round, his father would turn up with a bouquet of them, and she would dutifully smile and accept them.

Aaron moved the roses so they were hidden by all the other flowers they had left. And then he put his own small bouquet of carnations right where the headstone would go.

“Mama, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he walked away, unable to stand the sight of the grave anymore.

The defence ripped him and his witnesses to shreds.

The verdict was not guilty.

The child was sent home.

“You promised me,” they sobbed as their father stood with an easy smirk on his face.

He was sick the moment he got home. Haley didn’t say a word. She just showed him an advert for the FBI that had been posted through the letterbox. When he stared at her, she smiled. Said that she had married Aaron Hotchner the man, not Mr Hotchner the prosecutor.

Two weeks later, he was enrolling in the FBI Academy.

Six months later and he was Agent Hotchner. He liked that. It was his own, and nobody would ever associate the title with his father. He could be his own person.

Then David Rossi gave him the nickname of Hotch and he couldn’t be happier. It would’ve made his mother smile. And his father turn in his grave at the utter shame of his good name being reduced down to something so mundane.

But being a profiler was tough. Every case meant dealing with the very worst of humanity. And even among the worst, there was a hierarchy. Some cases were just more disgusting, more scary and more scarring than others. A few cases reminded him that profilers were all just a step away from becoming unsubs themselves. That the line could and would blur before any of them even realised.

Vincent Perrotta left him vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. Jason had told him to loosen his tie and undo his top button, but Aaron needed the reassuring pressure of both things at his neck in order to maintain some kind of illusion of control in spite of the damage done by the wire.

He didn’t open up to unsubs. One of the most important parts of conducting an interrogation was to make them think you understood them without giving away anything about yourself. And most of the time, he was good at doing that. He pretended to understand the hatred of children, pretended to agree with them when they claimed that all women were just manipulative bitches and he pretended to find it amusing when they thought that the person doing the act was right.

The key word was pretend.

He wasn’t pretending when he looked Perrotta in the eye and told him the one thing that only Haley and Dave were aware of. Had it been any other time, it would’ve been funny. His own team didn’t know what his father had done to him, but this serial killer did, and it was all because he’d slipped up and said us instead of them.

Hotch had never been so thankful there was a bathroom on the same floor as his office that nobody ever used. The moment Perrotta turned away, the realisation that his crimes had never been inevitable causing more distress than the murder of the woman had, Hotch had bolted.

He hadn’t eaten since the incident in the night. It hurt to swallow. Which meant despite the minutes he spent retching over the toilet seat, hands trembling because how many times had he looked in the mirror and seen the exact same look that he’d witnessed on Perrotta, nothing came out.

Morgan was stood by the door.

“I know we have a no profiling rule.”

“Then follow it.”

“Reid’s doing your paperwork. He’s surprisingly good at forging your handwriting and I’m not sure I want to know why. That means all you need to do is sign it. Go home.”

“You’re not my superior Morgan,” Hotch snapped.

Morgan didn’t even blink. “I know. But you won’t write me up for insubordination. There’s no reason for you to be here, but there is every reason for you to be at home.”

Their relationship was a strange one. They trusted each other as agents- it was the only way they were able to go out in the field- but not as individuals. But then every once in a while, Derek would do something like this and Hotch would wonder if it was his way of saying that he did indeed care.

He was right though. There was every reason for him to be at home.

The living room light was off, so he immediately headed upstairs. Jack was asleep in his crib. Hotch felt uneasy in the nursery. Both he and Haley knew this was their forever home, which was why they had a nursery- it could be Jack’s bedroom until he moved out- but after Karl Arnold, he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to see him in the night.

“He won’t wake up if you hold him,” Haley said from the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he replied, feeling guilty that he must have woken her.

“No, I shouldn’t. What happened?”

“How do you know something happened?”

She shrugged. “I know you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to burden you. You already put up with enough from me.”

She crept closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was transported back to the bathroom, only now the scars on his back had healed but not faded and more, both visible and hidden, covered his body because profiling always damaged people.

“You’re not burdening me. I’m asking.”

“Serial killer. His dad abused him and his mom. I accidentally told him that some of us grow up to catch them. But Hales, the look on his face. It was like he finally realised that everything he did had been because of him, not because of his father and I just, I sympathised. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”

“I saw myself in him. The person I might have become if you hadn’t saved me,” he confessed, still watching his son.

Haley’s grip loosened. He realised what he had said.

“Aaron that wasn’t me. You saved yourself. You got out and you decided you were going to break the cycle. That was you. I just helped you along the way. Hey, look at me.”

He turned, tears in his eyes. Haley smiled, still as bright and good as the day they met. She took his hands and lifted them to her lips, placing a soft kiss to them before leaning past him and lifting Jack up. The baby stirred slightly, but did not wake, even when Haley handed him to Aaron.

“You won’t hurt him. Or me. You will never be like the people that you hunt down. I will die before that ever happens,” she said. There was such raw passion in her voice that the tears finally fell.

Haley would die before he hurt someone. And he had made a vow to her father the day they married that he would keep her safe, and a second the day he joined the FBI that if Haley were to die, it would not be because of his job.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting Jack down so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do. Because to her it was. She just wished he could understand that.

He didn’t know how to say the words. Not in the way that she needed. So instead he smiled, took one last look at his baby and walked away. He pretended to be fine because Haley shouldn’t have to worry about her. In reality, the moment she fell asleep, he went and checked the locks. Again.

The darkness shouldn’t have been able to creep in, but it did. It always did.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too rough with you,” Gideon said, taking the seat opposite him.

Hotch looked at him. Gideon gave him that smile that never seemed to be aimed at him anymore. He sighed, fiddling with the pen he’d placed on the paperwork he hadn’t touched since boarding the jet. Talking to Abby’s son had been more painful than he’d expected, but somebody needed to do it. It was the least they could do for him.

“I’ve handled worse,” he replied.

Gideon hmmed at that. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I made you some tea. Herbal. Apparently it’s calming. You should drink it.”

Hotch stared at the mug like it was going to poison him. Then he carried on staring out the window. It was dark, and there wasn’t really much to see, but he couldn’t keep looking at the sympathy on Jason’s face. It made him feel sick. He wasn’t the one that had lost a father that day. He had just gotten too close, again, despite constantly telling everyone that wasn’t something they could do.

It was impossible to get the image of him burning to death out of his mind. Whilst he wanted to believe Abby’s death had been swift and painless, much like his own father’s heart attack, he knew that was impossible. He’d seen enough burn victims to know it took time for that happen. He wondered if, in those final moments, Abby regretted his decision.

“Hotch there was nothing we could have done to save him,” Gideon said gently. He wished Dave was still there. He would know what to say, what to do. Gideon had never had that relationship with Aaron. He liked to think he had that relationship with Spencer, but Aaron was different. He didn’t understand him.

“I should have stopped him. He should have had more time. If only so he could look at his son and tell him what was going on.”

Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Spencer mentioned that you had gone to see the family. Why didn’t you send JJ? She is our media liaison, that’s her job description, not yours.”

“JJ wouldn’t have understood. I had to go. It had to be me.” Hotch didn’t really know why he was telling Gideon any of this.

“It was your penance, wasn’t it? You think it’s your fault that he died, so you decided to make the fallout your responsibility. Hotch, you’re the Unit Chief now. The team look to you. You can’t tell them to do one thing and then do the exact opposite.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be SSA Hotchner, or even Hotch. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be Aaron, because even though Haley and Dave- the only people that used his first name- had always treated it like something precious, the ghost of his father made him think the only way it could be said was with disdain.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Jason was watching him. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, watching the other members of the team. JJ and Emily were laughing at something that Morgan was saying. Reid was smiling. Hotch felt relieved. It had been far too long since Reid had smiled, and he knew he was the one to blame.

Jason followed his gaze. “They’ve all come so far, haven’t they? One day, they won’t even need us.”

That startled Hotch. His eyes met Gideon’s and he realised his mistake immediately.

“I see. It wasn’t just Abby you saw yourself in. It was his son. That’s why you went. You were compensating.”

“Please don’t profile me,” he whispered, knowing it was useless.

“I’m not. Now I know I’m no David Rossi or Haley Brooks, but I am here. However much you may not agree, I am.”

It was useless to say that he didn’t think that. Because he did, and it was written in the hesitance of his decisions. Of his constant watching. Of the pile of paperwork in his office that was meant to be Jason’s.

“I wanted- needed- to know who it was that my father had been having an affair because everyone, including my own mother, had known. But then he was diagnosed with cancer and all of that became irrelevant. I never got my answers, and it still hurts, even now.”

Nobody, not even Haley, knew about that. She obviously had her suspicions, and she knew about his lack of closure, but he had never properly told her.

Jason wasn’t saying anything. Hotch looked at him and saw that the other man was looking past him, not at him. He followed his gaze, and realised he was looking at Spencer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled as Derek ruffled his hair.

He turned back, and saw that Jason was watching Spencer with the soft smile he had never managed to evoke. He blinked back tears. He missed Dave. He wanted Dave because Dave would know what to say to stop him feeling like such crap. Jason didn’t. Because Jason loved Spencer more than he loved Aaron, and Aaron couldn’t even fathom resenting either of them for that because it wasn’t either of their faults.

It was just a fact of life. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when instead of replying, Gideon stood and went over to the other members of the team, intently listening to whatever it was Spencer was saying.

Haley would tell him to phone Dave. But he couldn’t disrupt his book tour like that. Instead, he kept staring out the window, trying to forget how beautiful the flames had looked against the darkness of the night or how deep down, he almost wished it had been him in there.

It was too close to the line between profiler and unsub.

He bottled up his emotions and hoped that Jason would stay. If not for him, then for Spencer. Because he couldn’t be that person. He was barely that person for Jack.

Jason did not stay. Neither did Haley. They both reached their breaking points and then Hotch pushed them too far.

Deep down, he knew the moment where they both decided they couldn’t take it anymore, the moment where they finally admitted to themselves that they deserved better and they took the steps to get there.

He just never expected they would happen on the same day. He supposed he’d bought that upon himself though. It was him that had said Jason was okay to return to work, for the purely selfish reason that he couldn’t do it alone even though he knew Gideon needed more time. It was him that had left on the case because Morgan had asked him to, even though Haley had asked him not to.

What kind of marriage was that? He didn’t know who had phoned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but there was no guarantee that Haley was having an affair. To suggest that she was would be cruel. It would only be because he didn’t want to have to take accountability for his part in the breakdown of their marriage.

It did take two to tango.

But where Jason took a piece of Spencer’s heart, Haley took the reason Hotch had never been able to stop hunting down monsters.

Morgan told him they would survive without Gideon. Hotch knew they would, but he wasn’t sure he could. Gideon’s departure, as much as he didn’t want to seem narcissistic, would reflect on him. He hadn’t saved him. He hadn’t been able to save his marriage- because Haley had done all she had and it had been his turn- and now the unsub’s last words were haunting his memory.

He had always taken pride in the fact that he was a difficult man to profile. A face schooled into a cautious look of neutrality, suits that hid the fact that he never seemed to have an appetite anymore. The only thing that ever gave away his nerves was the small hand thing he had never been able to stop doing.

For his own profession to be used against him in such a way, so soon after he had failed to save so many people- the six agents in Boston, Elle, Jason, Haley- was disarming. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Normally, he would’ve gone to the home where Haley would have left a light on for him. He would’ve watched his son sleep and just stared at him in awe. He would’ve pressed a kiss to Haley’s forehead before climbing into their bed and seeking her warmth. Maybe, if it had been too late to go home, he would’ve taken Jason to the piano night down at the bar.

But Haley had taken her warmth and the thing that made their house a home with her. All the rooms would be dark when he got back. Jack’s room would be empty. Their bed would be cold.

He hadn’t slept alone since college. It hurt, to wake up in the morning and not see Haley’s hair, messy and knotted.

He just didn’t want to be alone, but who was he supposed to tell?

“Reid. I’ll drop you home. It’s been a long few days,” he said.

Everyone else had left. Reid looked up with wide eyes. He looked so painfully young, and Hotch felt a slight pain in his stomach. What was this job doing to him? Spencer deserved better than sleepless nights and painful memories that would never be forgotten. Hotch guessed that one day, Spencer would be added to the list of people he had failed to save.

In some ways, he already was.

“I can go myself,” Spencer mumbled.

“Reid. Let me do this. Please,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “Okay.”

They left, the car far too silent for either of them to be comfortable. Hotch wanted to debate something intellectual, if only to soothe Spencer’s nerves, but the words classic narcissist still left a bitter taste in his mouth. And his mind had gone completely blank regarding anything else.

“We’ve driven past the turning. The route that you’re now going down would mean that getting to my apartment would take an hour extra.”

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, subtly checking that the car doors were locked. “You’re coming home with me. I don’t think you should go home alone.”

Reid turned to face him properly. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child. I get enough of that from everyone else. Gideon left me with a letter, just like my dad. He’s not going to come back and rationally, I have to accept that, because refusal to do so won’t change anything.”

“Maybe. But you should know better than anyone that we can’t control our brains.”

He realised the moment the words left his mouth that it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he immediately regretted them. What Reid thought he was trying to imply was definitely not what he was, but the words had come out wrong and now Reid was going to hate him too.

“I do. Know that. Don’t need you reminding me.”

He sounded just like Jack. Hotch swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, that came out badly. What I meant was that you’re allowed to feel like you’re being irrational. Missing Gideon is a valid emotion, regardless of the way he left us. You. I meant you.”

They were stuck at a red light.

“Hotch, why haven’t you transferred?” Reid asked suddenly.

He shifted slightly. “My reason for doing it is no longer a thing.”

Reid frowned, and Hotch hit the gas.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Is it our fault?”

Hotch shook his head. “Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault.”

Reid wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he blurted out. “That’s why I’m taking you to the house. Because I can’t be alone and I need to feel like I’m doing something to help someone otherwise, what is the point in all of this?”

“This is about what the unsub said, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t had a conversation like this in so long. Not since before Hankel, his brain supplied.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I failed to help Elle. I failed to help you, and Jason and Haley and god knows who else,” he said.

Spencer looked at him, chin tilted “You said: Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault. How is this any different?”

Hotch sighed. “I had a responsibility to the other members of my team because I am meant to be their leader. You, on the other hand, are still just a kid, who has no connection whatsoever to my marriage.”

“I may be young, but I am in no way a child. And no, I didn’t have any connection to your marriage but I still don’t get your point. Elle and Gideon made their decisions of their own free will and there is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop them because when somebody is that determined to do something, they will always find a way.”

They’d pulled into the driveway. Hotch still hadn’t adjusted to the curtains still being open, for everyone to see and it took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The porch light hadn’t been on for a while, yet it was still a shock to the system. Haley’s light was just another thing he had taken for granted.

“When did you get so smart?” Hotch whispered. In some ways, he felt like he had watched as Spencer had grown from the new agent, doubting his worth and his abilities, to the slightly more confident that he had a family man that was now sat next to him. He hoped Spencer never lost his softness, or the things that made him the person he was, for there was nothing sadder.

“Hotch, I’ve always been smart. When Gideon returned after Boston, you introduced me as your expert on everything and then I told the man we were interviewing that I have an IQ of 187.”

“Never change Spencer.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you stay the night?” Hotch asked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. But I want this to be your decision. If you’d rather be alone, then I will take you to your apartment and we’ll never speak about it again.”

They sat for a few minutes, and Hotch resisted the urge to tell Spencer to hurry up.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” he finally decided, voice small.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that the house was still littered with small traces of Haley and the life they had spent together.

The two of them ate in relative silence, and then Hotch set them both up in the living room. He wanted- needed- to keep an eye on Spencer, but he told him that when Haley and him bought their first apartment and started living together, they would camp out in the living room because there was nobody to tell them not to.

He left out the part where it was also because Aaron had never really been allowed to sit wherever he wanted and do whatever he felt like.

There was some old documentary about the Russian Revolution in the background. Spencer had fallen asleep, his head in Hotch’s lap. Without even realising, Hotch had started stroking his hair, much like he used to do for Jack.

The light in the living room was on, and not once did Spencer wake. Hotch made them both breakfast- pancakes, because the look of joy when he said he probably had all the ingredients was not one he wanted to destroy- and Spencer gave him a genuine smile.

Neither of them spoke of it again, but Hotch felt a little lighter. A little bit more like the Aaron Haley had fallen in love with again. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he saved Spencer, and even if it was only a little, and well after he should’ve, at least he had done it.

That would be enough to keep the darkness out, if only for a little bit.

Megan Kane died and Aaron- not Hotch, because Hotch would say that you can’t take cases personally, no matter how much you wanted to, held her hand. He held her hand as she said thank you for staying and not leaving. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he didn’t walk away for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t have her considering him to be the same as the other men she’d killed.

Not after everything she’d done. The chip was safely tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be passed on.

Even when her chest stopped rising, he refused to let go, only doing so when the police kicked the already open door to her room in, guns raised. When they stepped onto the balcony, he dropped her hand, watching as it fell limply. He didn’t know how long he had been sat there, but it was long enough for the body to go cold.

“Agent Hotchner. We need you to provide a statement. You were the only person present when she died,” the lead detective said.

Aaron stood, suddenly so angry at everything and everyone. “She took the pills and gave me the card. And then she asked me to stay so I did. Then she died. What more do you need than that?”

He didn’t want to tell them what she’d said. It was stupid, but it felt private.

He stormed out the room before they could respond and stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart.

Both Dave and Emily tried to make him feel better the whole way home. It was all to no avail. Their attempts to comfort him went over like a lead balloon. The only indication he’d even heard them was the slight clench of his jaw and his adamant stare out the window, his report on the table, only the first sentence written. When Dave tried to crack a joke, Hotch glared and he backed off.

Emily sat by him. Whilst her general presence usually never failed to make him feel a little better, it was just irritating him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He didn’t want them walking on eggshells. He wanted them to just leave him.

But then he felt bad. Because the one person he wanted had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with his job, and the rest were just trying to be there for him and that should’ve been enough for him.

When they got to the office, he did something he’d only done a few times before. He put the files on his desk and then he exited it. He needed to see his son. He needed to go to his real home- because now Haley was living in the house, it felt like a home again.

Haley had responded to his message about coming by with a simple: Ok. He still felt wrong profiling her, so he didn’t.

She had changed the locks. He didn’t have the key. And so he was stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to open the door whilst he rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring had previously been. The tan line had all but faded. He felt pathetic for still reaching for it sometimes.

She opened the door. “There’s a birthday party that he’s been excited about for- you’re wearing a case suit.”

“I’m- what?”

She frowned. “Why are you wearing a case suit?”

“A case suit?”

“Yes. There are suits that you would only ever wear when you were on a case because they could be washed a lot more easily, and if you got blood on them, well you weren’t attached to them. How were you not aware of this?”

“I guess it was a subconscious thing. Look, we just landed but I-” he saw Jack peeking his head around the door.

On reflex, he crouched down. He remembered how he had felt when he was younger and his father would come storming in, towering over him, terrifying and threatening. He never wanted Jack to feel like that. And so he knelt down, burying his head in Jack’s neck for a moment before letting go.

“Hi buddy. How are you feeling?”

Jack stopped smiling. “I accidentally made mommy annoyed because I drew on the wall. But then she said that sometimes people feel bad emotions and that’s okay, you just need to be good about it. And then once we cleaned it up, she said that I’m not a bad kid, I just did a wrong thing.”

Hotch felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Haley was so good. Too good.

“She’s right. One act doesn’t determine who you are,” he said, voice cracking.

“Jack, mommy and daddy need to go and talk in the kitchen, so just stay in the living room, okay?”

Jack nodded.

Hotch followed Haley, noticing the last photo that was taken of the three of them before the divorce- although at the time nobody knew- was still stuck to the fridge.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

Aaron turned away. “That’s not your job anymore.”

“Baby,” she said.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time somebody had called him that?

“I know what I said then. Trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget. But I was wrong. This is who you are. And I never should’ve asked you to change. I think the divorce was the best thing for both of us, because it was needed. But I still love you. And I know you won’t tell the team. So tell me.”

And he did. He told her everything. “The worst part is, she was right. I should be here every week, but Jack’s lucky if I’m here every fortnight. Haley, I always said I didn’t want to become a father because of how he hurt me. What kind of father am I if Jack is going to say the same thing?”

For a while Haley did not speak. They were just stood, a good six feet between them. And then she threw her arms around him. The force of her touch threw him off balance. When was the last time anyone had actually touched him? If he was struggling to remember, then it must’ve been far too long.

The smell of her shampoo felt like coming home and before he knew what was happening, he could taste the salt of his tears.

She stroked his hair and he relaxed into the touch, despite all the knots. He had always hated brushing his hair but loved when Haley would run her hands through it. She messed it up as he sobbed into her shoulder, and not for the first time, she wondered how many more times he could stare into the depths of depravity and come back whole.

Although, she thought to herself bitterly, he’d never been given the chance to be whole in the first place.

At some point, they’d started sitting on the kitchen floor. She was still playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

Aaron looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could not resist the urge to press a soft kiss to his forehead before tugging him closer.

“Sleep here. I’ll take Jack to the party, and you can rest. Do that paperwork that’s in your office. And maybe tomorrow, we can all go for ice cream.”

His eyes widened. They were so soft and warm that Haley had never understood how he managed to glare at anyone. Apart from the people that had offered their sympathies at his father’s funeral, despite fully well knowing the truth.

“Really?”

“Yeah Aaron. Really. Now go upstairs and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She was, and it was like she had burst into his life in an explosion of light all over again.

Then George Foyet took that light and snuffed it out.

Haley once said she would die before Aaron hurt another person the way his father had hurt him. She said it because her death was so unlikely. It was an event that they knew would one day occur, but they never really thought about it. Though it was morbid, Aaron’s death was the one they had to prepare for. He was the one charging after dangerous criminals on a weekly basis. Haley was teaching.

Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to her because he had promised, with everything he was, that he would keep her safe and that the horrors of his job would never touch her.

But he hadn’t been quick enough.

And now she was dead.

George Foyet had surrendered. He had surrendered willingly and without coercion, but Hotch hadn’t listened. He had carried on, even though his duty was to stop. To carry out a lawful arrest. But he hadn’t. He had carried on hitting a man that would not have been able to defend himself. Deep down he knew that was unfair to say. Foyet was taunting him by saying he was giving up.

Still, his knuckles ached. Morgan had pulled him off the body and he hadn’t been able to look. He couldn’t do it. So many things had already been destroyed by him. There was already so much blood on his hands, if he looked at Foyet he would never recover.

He was worse than his father. At least his father was a human. At least his father had never touched Sean. His father had never- to his knowledge- even attempted to beat his mother to death. But he had. He had beaten a man to death, and the worst part was, he would do it all again.

He would do it again because at least Jack was alive. Scared and confused, but alive. Hotch knew that if Jack had been the one to die, then he wouldn’t be here. He would’ve let Foyet kill him and vanish, as selfish as it was, because a life without his son was not one he wanted to live. After he found Haley, he knew he needed to consider the worst scenario: that Jack had not understood.

When Foyet told him that he would find Jack and show him his dead parents, something in him found the strength to survive. If Foyet was saying he would find Jack, then that would mean that he hadn’t already done so. Which meant Jack must’ve understood and was just waiting for his dad to come find him.

It was when Jack told him about how he had worked the case that the knowledge that Haley was dead hit him like a tonne of bricks. The first time he had found him, Jack had ran out and told his Mom what him and Daddy were doing together. Haley had smiled fondly before coming into the room, staring out the window instead of the desk.

Hotch had told her it was just a budget report. She looked down and did indeed see the budget sheet. But under that was the profile for a man who had recently lost his wife and was going after blonde mothers that resembled her.

There was blood all over his shirt and hands. Jack didn’t need to see that. The part of his brain not occupied with Haley knew that JJ was the best person for him to be with. She was good with children and had dealt with enough children of victims to know what to say and what to avoid.

Victims. Because that was what Haley had become. A victim of a serial killer and it was all his fault.

If he had just been quicker. If he had taken the deal. If he had transferred when Haley asked him to. They probably would have still ended up divorcing, but she would be alive. Jack would have a real parent. One that could look at him without turning away. Haley’s blood was on his hands, and every time he looked at Jack, he saw her. Because Jack had his mother’s light hair and kind eyes.

The day Aaron died- and god that couldn’t come fast enough- would be the day that the last piece of his father finally left the earth.

Haley’s hair was dark. That was the first thing he noticed when he saw her, lying on the ground. He’d heard people say that when someone died, you could kid yourself into thinking that they were just sleeping because they would look so peaceful.

Haley’s mouth was a thin line. She smiled when she was sleeping. Her clothes were not the ones she would have picked herself. Her eyes were still open. Aaron hated that she died alone and afraid. That should’ve been him. And her hair was dark. He cursed himself for being surprised. Of course it was dark. She’d gone into WitSec.

It just felt like a visual representation of everything he’d taken from her. Her light and innocence had been destroyed and it was all his fault. He hadn’t even told her Sam Kassmeyer was dead, which was such a stupid thing to fixate on, but anything to take away from the fact that she was gone.

When he pulled her limp, unmoving body towards him, needing to feel her against him one more time, she was still a little warm and he almost vomited right there. How close had they been that she wasn’t cold? He didn’t let go till Emily gently touched her shoulder, leading him away from the body.

The team were shielding him from the various people that had responded to the scene and if he had more energy, he would say thank you. But he was tired. And his hands hurt so much. They were still trembling.

Jack leant into his touch like it was nothing and Hotch marvelled at the fact that he seemed to adjust like it was nothing. He knew it was because he didn’t understand, but after everything that had been lost that day- two lives, a piece of Aaron, a place that was once home, the brightest light he’d ever met, Jack’s chance for a normal life- it felt like a win.

Before he knew it, the funeral was being held. He’d planned his eulogy, writing it whilst watching Jack because he couldn’t sleep without seeing the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest. There were a hundred different copies in the bin. How was he supposed to get up in front of everyone that looked to him and expected him to lead, and talk about Haley had made him feel safe?

Attending Haley’s funeral hurt more than either of his parents had. He wasn’t sure if that made him a terrible person. But when his father had died, he’d been relieved. Not happy, but maybe a little grateful. And when his mother had died, Haley had been stood next to him, her grip on his hand grounding him.

This time, she was the one in the ground. And the only person grounding him was a little boy, so much like Sean- not quite understanding, but aware enough to know the person they loved wasn’t coming home.

He held it together through his speech. Jessica gave him a soft smile before she took his place, reciting her own eulogy. Haley’s mother wasn’t able to attend because she was too unwell so her father recited both their speeches, voice cracking and tears streaming down his face.

It showed just how broken he was. No self-respecting Southern man would ever be able to shed tears that freely.

“Thank you for saying something,” Jessica said to him when they were all sat down. The team were far away enough to not hear, and he suspected that was why she had finally spoken to him.

“Jessie, this is all my fault. It was the least I could do. And I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. To all of you.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Jessie. It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. Aar, I don’t blame you. I can’t. Because you did everything you could. I know that. And I heard you up there. You loved her. But you didn’t kill her. In fact, she’d kill me if I suggested such a thing. So forgive yourself. The rest of us have.”

“Jessica, why would you say something like that?” Roy shouted.

Jess flinched, unaware that her father had overheard everything.

Aaron shrunk down in his seat, unable to meet Roy’s eyes.

“You got my daughter killed. I trusted you. Even when nobody else did, when everybody said only bad things happened where Aaron Hotchner got involved, I trusted you. And when those people blamed you for what happened to your mother, I defended you. Because I knew you were a good man that would keep my daughter safe.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” Jessica said quietly.

“Yes it is! Yes. It is. My baby is dead, and it is all your fault. You promised me this would never happen. You swore. When your marriage died, I thought to myself: these things happen. They were young when they fell in love, perhaps they just grew up. But this- everything that has happened today? That’s on you. This is your fault. I wish it was you in the ground!”

Hotch flinched. “Roy, I-”

“It’s Mr Brooks to you now Hotchner. I treated you like a son. I- Haley did everything for you. Why weren’t you fast enough?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Why had he not been fast enough?

“Dad, I know you are angry, but Aaron is not the person to be taking it out on! Just because he’s here and it is convenient does not make it right. Haley loved him until the very last moment. Shouldn’t that be enough to be good to him?”

Aaron just wanted everyone to stop shouting.

“She didn’t love him at the very last moment! How could she, after everything he put her through?”

“It is Hotchner going on the gravestone, not Brooks,” Jessica snapped.

Both Roy and Aaron stared at her. Neither of them had known about that, and she immediately paled, as though she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

“What?” Roy spat.

“Haley called mom in the middle of the night in a panic. Said that if, somehow, this Foyet managed to find them, or if something happened, she wanted Hotchner to be on her gravestone because she loved Aaron.”

Roy’s hands were clenched at his sides and Aaron swallowed, subconsciously bracing himself for the blow that never came.

“I won’t do that to you. Ever. You may not be my son anymore, but I still would not harm you.”

Hotch exhaled, but Roy walked away before he could say anything. And the team got called away on a case.

“Did she really say that?” he asked Jessica, when it was just the two of them and their mugs of coffee. Jack had gone to sleep.

Jessica tore her gaze away from the carpet. Derek had done an incredible job of making it seem like nothing happened, but she now knew better and the thought of what had gone down made her sick. She wished she could convince Aaron to move, but she knew it would never work.

“Jess?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She did. I was going to say something to you earlier but it completely slipped my mind. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He nodded. Of course it would be okay with him. Whatever Haley had wanted from him, he would give her. It would be too little too late, but it would still be something. Maybe it would lead to Roy’s forgiveness.

It was that line of reasoning that led to him almost accepting retirement, because what else was he meant to do? But then Jessica had offered to take Jack, saying it was the least she could do and that it wouldn’t be any trouble and he had been confused.

The gravestone hadn’t been placed yet, but he still knew where she was buried. That surprised him, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really remember the actual funeral. He just remembered Roy’s words. Aaron found himself talking to the air in a way he never had before, and by the time Dave found him, he’d made his decision.

Jack needed a father that could teach him how to move on and be happy. Aaron needed the team to be happy. Jessica had given her blessing, and maybe it was psychological, but everything felt a little warmer after he told his best friend that Haley already knew.

It didn’t mean he was confident that he was making the right choice. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified of how the team would respond. What if they thought he was making the wrong choice?

But on his first day in the office, they all treated him normally. Like nothing had changed. And for that, he was grateful. Emily was- as always- the only one aside from Dave with the self-destructive streak to make a comment.

Although it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting.

“I’m glad you came back,” she told him as he packed up his things to go.

There was a look in her eyes that told him she was being genuine. Her approval, deep down, meant more to him than everyone else’s, including Dave. For her to come in and say that she was happy he was there and leading the team meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. It also showed how far they had come. She had gone from insulting him every other sentence to wanting him around. He had gone from not trusting her to only being able to tell her the truth about what had really happened in his apartment.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. If she had wanted it, she could have taken his job, no question. She wouldn’t- Derek was obviously the next Unit Chief- but she could have.

She smiled. “You keep us all safe, Aaron. How could I not?”

Emily’s hair was dark. As were her eyes. And there was a darkness that surrounded her in a similar way to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she had learnt to live with hers. She had turned it into something beautiful that made people love her.

Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps the darkness was something to welcome, not fear.

Emily Prentiss died, alone and cold, three times in one night. She died once when she told Derek Morgan to let her go because she genuinely believed Ian Doyle was still there, just waiting to hurt the people that had become her family. She flatlined in the ambulance, and Aaron had to watch as they frantically tried to revive her.

They succeeded in doing so, but at what cost?

She died a third time when Hotch had to make the decision as to whether or not she stayed. He wanted to scream at the bureau and say that it couldn’t be left to him because it was Emily’s life and if she wanted to stay and fight then she should.

But they would interpret his screaming and pleading as weakness. They would use it to deem him incapable of impartiality and then he would never know what happened. So instead of crying the way he wanted to, he kept his face neutral and argued all the reasons that Agent Prentiss- not Emily, not now- needed to be sent away and saved.

They went for it, and the prosecutor within him should have been proud. But it wasn’t. He was just tired.

Emily did not know that he had been in the ambulance and seen her die. She didn’t know that she had told him, whilst she was fading in and out of consciousness, about the darkness that she had seen and the chill that had come over her when she realised that she was dying or that he knew she wanted to believe in a better ending.

But Aaron did. It was why he found it so difficult to tell her what was happening. But he was already asking too much of JJ. JJ who was supposed to be a liaison for the state department and nothing more. But there was a haunted look in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her, but there just wasn’t time.

He needed to save Emily before it was too late. Or maybe it already was too late. Maybe she would have survived if his own darkness hadn’t joined hers. Maybe if he’d been quicker in getting JJ or working out what had happened.

The moment he saw his own smiling face staring up at him, he should have known what was happening. But he hadn’t. And now yet another person’s blood was on his hands. When would it end? When would the people he loved stop being hurt by a darkness that should have only ever destroyed him?

His father once said the only thing he was good at was destroying beautiful things. Aaron had so desperately wanted to prove him wrong that he only succeeded in proving him right. Emily Prentiss had once been beautiful and good. One of the strongest and most resilient women he knew.

Hotch wasn’t stupid. He saw the way JJ looked at her. That was the other reason he had to be the one to tell her. Because he had seen Jason in the aftermath of the Boston bombing and Elle after she shot the rapist. He knew what Spencer’s anger and Derek’s fear looked like. He had seen the worst of each of his team members and never faltered because their darkness was nothing compared to his.

The Emily laying on that bed, broken and damaged beyond what any normal person should have been able to survive, was not the Emily they knew and Hotch was not going to let it be the Emily that JJ would remember. He would let JJ go with her to Paris because she would be stronger then.

That would be the Emily she would remember.

“Emily? Can you hear me?” he asked as quietly as he could.

She turned slightly, but even that small movement seemed to cause her pain. She opened her mouth to speak and winced.

“Don’t talk. You’re still too weak to do that. I just, I need to tell you what’s going to happen, okay? Because a lot of things are going to change and I want you to know exactly how this is going to play out.”

His hands were shoved in his pockets. One of them needed to be strong and pretend that everything was going to be okay, and it sure as hell couldn’t be her. But she saw and tried to motion to him. He shook his head. Soon she would be leaving him, and he did not want to remember her touch as being cold and almost lifeless. He wanted to remember her touch as being warm and comforting.

Without looking at her, he told her how they were sending her to Paris. His voice did not tremble and he did not break but he couldn’t face her when he was done talking. Instead, he stared at the floor and focused on the white tiles.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me? I do not want to be sent to Paris whilst everyone else tries to deal with this.”

“Em. I’m trying to do the right thing,” he pleaded. He couldn’t have her hating him. Not after everything that had happened between them, and certainly not everything they had both done to gain the others trust.

“The right thing would have been to let me die,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and it was only a few days earlier. He had told Clyde Easter that if anything happened to her, he would destroy him. The knowledge that he could do it without even flinching should have terrified him, but it didn’t. In some morbid way, it relaxed him.

When he turned his back, the knowledge that he had disarmed the other man bought him more joy than it should have, and again he was reminded of how thin the line between profiler and unsub really was.

“Mr Hotchner,” Clyde had called out.

Hotch had frozen, hands clenched at his side. How many years had it been since someone last called him that? And yet he still couldn’t hear the title without thinking of his father. He was an adult now, the man shouldn’t have held that influence over him but he was still terrified and he hated himself for it.

He’d turned, just enough so he could see Clyde’s face.

“I did my part. If she dies, that’s on you.”

And it was. It was all his fault. She had trusted him to keep them safe, but he had failed. Again. He had destroyed her, just like he had destroyed so many other good people. He didn’t deserve to be a coward anymore, so he looked up and met her eyes.

Weak and damaged as she was, she still managed to glare with a hatred he had only ever seen once. When she had been a college student, arguing with her mother. And he’d been both terrified and relieved to see that she could be so ruthless. Terrified because to him, she was just a girl and she shouldn’t have known how to hate like that, but relieved because he wasn’t the only one with such potential for darkness inside.

He left without another word. JJ had comforted Reid and Garcia because he had been too busy throwing up the single bite of sandwich he’d managed to choke down. And he knew something had happened to her whilst she was working for the Pentagon. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stay.

It was why he let her take Emily to Paris. He didn’t tell her what Emily had said to him. He just told her to ask if she could remember anything from the hospital. He spent the entire time waiting for her to respond. He was talking to Dave when there was a text from JJ. All it said was she doesn’t remember anything she said.

And it became slightly easier to breathe.

The funeral was difficult.

First thing in the morning, he had dropped Jack off with Jessica. Jack did not know it was a funeral that his father was attending, and so he was quite content to just sit in the living room and play with his toys whilst Aaron and Jessica stood in the hallway, talking in hushed whispers.

“Don’t you think he should go?” she had asked.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He already went to Haley’s. I can’t take him to Emily’s.”

“But he should be able to say goodbye to her.”

“Jessie, please. I can’t tell you why, but he can’t go to the funeral and I swear, as soon as I can, I will tell you everything but he just- I need him to not be there.”

She stared at him. “Aaron, you never need to beg for anything from me. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jessica didn’t understand that him and JJ were the only one that knew the coffin was empty. It was the second coffin in a year that Aaron was forced to stand beside. When did it end? When would the members of his team stop losing the people they loved?

Ashley Seaver was a child and he never should have let her stay on the team after that first case. She was meant to be a training agent, who was supposed to believe that her job would make a difference and protect people from a life like the one she had been forced to live. And yet here she was, stood at the grave of a team member whilst the rest fell apart. Hotch wanted her to remain good and hopeful, but he just didn’t know how to do that.

In some ways, he resented JJ. She was able to go back to the Pentagon and get away from the looks of her coworkers. She didn’t have to look out of her office and see the empty table that had once been Emily’s, nor did she have to go through the drawers of her desk and decide what would be kept and what would be thrown.

Aaron ended up keeping everything in a box at his apartment because he didn’t have the heart to throw anything away. Not when Emily wasn’t really dead, even though her photo was still hung up outside.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody. So, he ran off to Afghanistan for three months working on a project he didn’t fully understand or see the point in. The guilt at leaving his team and Jack only slightly overshadowed the relief he had that nobody looked at him and seeked comfort. They just needed him to do a job.

Everybody else had grieved losing Emily. JJ had her closure for making sure she was settled in Paris, and from what Hotch could understand, she had been pushing the boundary as much as she could regarding the no communication rule. The team had each other, but he had nobody.

Then Ian Doyle died, and Emily Prentiss came back to them, but he didn’t come back to the team. Not really. For Derek was able to forgive Emily for what she did because the relief he felt at her return was enough to overpower his anger at her. Dave had suspected the whole time. Spencer was just glad that he hadn’t lost someone else, and that JJ had also been returned to them.

They could forgive JJ because it had never been her decision to leave them. They could forgive Emily because of everything she had been through and because she had no say in what was done to her.

It was Hotch that had failed to stop the move from happening. It was him that had made the decision to fake Emily’s death and not tell the team. He had chosen to leave them, and his son, for the summer. Yes, it was unfair to blame him, and it was likely his hands had been tied, but they were angry. They needed someone to direct that anger towards.

Every time they snapped at JJ or Emily, it felt like kicking a puppy for they would just look so hurt and upset that they immediately wanted to apologise. But if they shouted at Aaron, he would just take it. He wouldn’t argue or defend himself. He just took it, the ghosts behind his eyes not ones they could acknowledge in the moment.

He maintained his façade and pretended everything was okay because if he wasn’t okay, the team would have no use for him and he would become dispensable and there would be nothing left for him. Except for Jack. But he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Jack to see him. Since Emily’s return, his nightmares had gotten worse and he woke up screaming more times than he cared to admit.

And then one night, when Jack was staying with his cousins and grandfather, the nightmares got so bad that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was vomiting up the meagre dinner he’d eaten.

When there was nothing left, he leant against the bathtub and sobbed. His own team hated him and there was nothing he could do because they were right. He didn’t trust them and he had fucked up so badly there was no redemption for him.

Jessica hadn’t been able to sleep. She had let herself into the apartment to see how Aaron was because there was a pit in her stomach, like something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron?” she called out.

There was no response, which on the one hand could have been a good thing because it would mean he was sleeping, but it could also mean he was refusing to speak to anyone. She wasn’t an idiot. When Emily had come to see Jack after that hearing thing because she needed something good, Aaron told her the truth. And then lied by saying he was fine after carrying that burden around himself.

The bedroom was empty. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that he could just be in the shower or getting a glass of water. She crept along to the bathroom. Inside, he was vomiting and she knew it would eventually turn into sobs.

Without considering what she was doing, she dialled Derek Morgan’s number. He’d given it to her at the funeral and asked her to keep him safe. She had done her job as his sister, and now it was time for his team to their job as his family.

“Jessica?”

“Aaron’s sick and I think it’s your fault,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, no, not like that. I just- he’s being sick and I know that it’s because he’s been bottling everything up since the funeral which wasn’t really a funeral but oh, you know what I mean. I just- nothing I do will make him feel better. He needs you. All of you.”

On the other side of the line, Derek scoffed. “Jessica, Hotch is strong. Are you sure he’s not just got food poisoning or something?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough for that to happen.”

“Look Jessica, I’ll get the team together but I don’t know what you want us to do. Hotch made his decisions, and we can’t forgive him at the drop of a hat. We all need time to process.”

“Derek! He lost his wife to this job, are you really going to stand by as he loses himself trying to save all of you? I have never asked for anything from any of you, but Aaron needs you now. He’s just too scared of rejection to admit it.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Morgan hung up and Jessica sighed.

“Jessie?” Aaron called out.

“Hey Aaron. What happened?” she asked, acting like nothing had happened.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered.

She pressed a hand to his stomach. Damn him and his emotional constipation that meant all of his pain manifested physically.

“I know. I know. But it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you’re going to eat something.”

He nodded and let her move him around as she pleased. The weight he had lost made her cringe. The last time he had looked so weak, he was seventeen and his father was dying of lung cancer.

The team all arrived at the same time, all in their pyjamas.

Aaron saw them and turned away. “Jessie, what are they doing here?”

“You need them Aaron. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need them.”

He shook his head as the medication Jessica had made him take after weeks of avoidance caused his filter to vanish and fuzziness as to what he was doing. “Don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah you do man. I’m sorry for how I was acting. I know you trust us and I never thought about how everything must have made you feel because I was angry,” Derek said.

Hotch shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?” Derek asked.

Hotch didn’t respond, so Derek sat in front of him instead. “You’re forgiven Hotch. I promise.”

Hotch just stared but relaxed ever so slightly and didn’t protest when the other members of the team gave him small smiles or hugged him.

And the next day, they spoke to him, not as a boss, but as their friend. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was back where he belonged. Things weren’t perfect- they never were- but he no longer felt like the villain in his own story.

He felt like he was worthy of a small amount of love, which meant the darkness had not won. Not completely.

There were cases that were difficult. There were cases that made him want to quit, or curl into a ball and forget about how the outside world existed and was constantly hurt innocent people that didn’t deserve it. And there were cases that he knew would haunt him until the day he died.

Watching Jimmy lose his fight, the one thing that kept him going, just so he would be able to see his son one last time was something he would keep seeing every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how he was the first one to realise that was what he wanted.

The team had all been waiting in various places, and he knew it wasn’t really what he was supposed to be doing, but when he looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a desperate father. And he thought of Jack. If it were Jack, he would do whatever it took to see him one last time. He deserved to see his son. And his son deserved a father.

Because when he looked at Jimmy he did not see the unsub his team had been after. He saw a broken and damaged man that was doing what it took to survive. Under normal circumstances, he’d been frightened by that but so much had happened that he almost felt desensitised when it came to relating to unsubs. His hands still went cold at the sight of every crime scene he visited. The bureau therapist would say the fact that he clung to that feeling both at home and in the field was unhealthy, but the bureau therapist had also deemed Jason, Elle, Spencer, himself and Emily fit for work after their respective ordeals.

“This isn’t a trick is it? Because you’re a federal agent, this isn’t your job,” he said.

“I’m a father first. And your son is holding on so he can say goodbye to you. I’m not so heartless that I would deprive you of a goodbye.”

He pressed a hand to his mouth. “He’s really going to- I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Am I a horrible person for not being here sooner?”

Hotch still blamed himself for not being there when his mother died. “No. No you did your best and you cannot think like that. I promise, when it came to your son, you have done nothing wrong. I’ll give you some privacy.” He hated to add the second part but he had to. “And I don’t want to, but you must understand-”

“I broke the law and you need to arrest me. I know. That’s fine. Everything will be fine because you have let me say goodbye to my baby.”

Aaron watched them through the window, a single tear coursing down his cheek as that was all he would allow himself until he made it home.

Sometimes, it was not the cases that made him question the reason behind doing any of this, but these moments where there was nothing that anyone could have done. They spent so much time putting bad guys away, and for what? The universe to just throw other tragedies in people’s faces.

Ryan closed his eyes at the same time that Aaron looked away. The raw grief both parents were feeling was something personal. He already felt like an intruder. He saw the man comfort his wife, who’s sobs had died down to silent tears as she placed a final kiss to her boy’s forehead.

They comforted each other.

Aaron wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t saved Jack from George Foyet. If he would still be alive now, or if he would have just let Foyet kill him because a life without Jack was not one he was capable of surviving. He wondered if Haley had survived instead, would they have been able to comfort each other, or would she blame him for the loss of her son? If Jack hadn’t survived, Hotch did not want to think of what his response would have been because the darkness of it scared him.

No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no child should ever have to be that strong for their parent. He admired Ryan for holding on for as long as he did, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have been playing games with the other children and worrying about his favourite cartoon characters, not how many breaths he had left.

He stood outside for longer than he should have and he was gentler with the handcuffs than he ever remembered being. The last words he whispered were an apology that Jimmy did not want. Before he returned to the hotel, he stopped to see his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “And if I knew what to say, I would. But I don’t so please, just, find a reason to hold on. Anything.”

“Agent Hotchner, you gave my son the one thing he wanted. A chance to say goodbye to both his parents. That has to be enough for now.” She hugged him and was polite enough to not comment on how his own body shook with the tears he was unable to repress.

He gave her his card, and then he left her, alone, to process her losses.

On board the jet, he sat slightly apart from the rest of them, which they all took as their cue to leave him alone. Emily Prentiss had never liked listening to him, and so she took the seat opposite him. Hotch had to smile. That was the woman he knew. Not the one that was overcompensating for everything.

“I made you a cup of tea,” she said to him.

Hotch looked down at the mug and grimaced slightly.

“Jason did the same thing after the case with the serial arsonist. Do you remember? He was trying to get me to open up about how I related to the unsub.”

“Did you?”

Hotch shook his head, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose I did a little. He wasn’t really paying attention.”

Emily made a non-committal sound at that. “Look I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Ryan just- he didn’t even look like Jack, but when I saw him, I just- they were a normal couple. They didn’t deserve to lose him like that.”

“Nobody deserves to lose someone they love that much like that. But they do. And we can’t stop that. What we can do is stop the bad guys who hurt other people and we do, whenever we can. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He understood what she was saying, but he couldn’t accept it. Haley had been too good for him, and he deserved to have everything good taken from him because he hadn’t been able to save her when it had been his fault that she was forced into that situation.

She smirked. “And Rossi may have mentioned a woman making her way into your life. Beth is it?”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. And it is just a bike ride.”

“You should go. Even if nothing happens, training is better with a partner. And you won’t be betraying Haley. Or Jack. If this thing works out, it will be because Beth understands that Jack doesn’t want or need another mom.”

Hotch looked at her with soft eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I should go.”

He did, and it was such a success that they ended up going on more than one date. She was excited to meet Jack, and they both loved each other. Even the team, who were always weary of potential partners, seemed to accept her as one of their own.

It momentarily convinced him that love could survive the horrors of their job.

The sound of the gun that Diane Turner shot herself and Maeve Donovan with sounded louder than even the three shots he had heard over the phone when George Foyet took Haley from him. His ear started ringing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex close hers and lower her gun.

What had been thinking? Alex had already lost a son, and every case put the one she had just found at risk. Even now, she had the sense to look away. He was still holding his gun like there was something he could do.

Before he was aware of his actions, he had dropped it. Something that he always told people not to do, especially if the safety was off because you just couldn’t guarantee anything. The sound it made as it hit the ground was still nothing compared to Spencer’s sobbing.

Reid was on his knees, eyes closed as though that would stop him from seeing Maeve’s dead body, both her and Diane’s forming a pool around them. It would be another funeral for him to attend. It wasn’t fair. Reid was still just a kid compared to the rest of them, he didn’t deserve to see all the things he had been subjected to.

Hotch knelt beside him. “Reid?” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as quiet as he could.

Reid shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve done something. There were so many different endings to this series of events and at least half of them involved Maeve living and me dying, which is something everyone could have learnt to live with.”

“Spencer. That isn’t true,” he said, a lot more firmly.

Spencer’s sobs had calmed to hiccups. “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

“I know,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around him. He felt Reid go limp against him as more sobs wracked his body. Reid was resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder and on instinct, he felt himself stroke the younger one’s hair, the same way he did to Jack when the little one couldn’t sleep.

He knew that grief caused people to go numb. When Reid pulled away, he kept one hand on his arm to stop him from being an idiot. Only Alex was still there, hovering by the side lines. The others had gone to stop the police from coming in too soon. They were giving Spencer the space to process.

Hotch wished they hadn’t. Jason and Emily were the ones that Reid turned to when he needed something. And if not them, then Derek and maybe JJ. But Jason and Emily were gone and Derek and JJ were dealing with other things.

And he was the only one who’s partner had ever been murdered by an unsub. He just didn’t know how to provide comfort. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell Spencer that everything was going to be fun and he would recover because the truth was that he would never be the same. Aaron still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t possible, but sometimes his lower torso still ached the same way it had when Foyet first pushed the knife in. He wouldn’t lie to Spencer, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

“I need- I never got to hold her. I need to hold her. Hotch let me go! I need to hold her, just once. Just once so I can remember her.”

The last time Hotch touched Haley, she was barely warm, but still lifeless. It overshadowed every single casual touch they’d shared since they were seventeen and it was all he could ever think of when he remembered her. He would give anything to forget the last time he held her.

Perhaps one day he would. But Spencer had an eidetic memory.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

Spencer shoved him. He wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but Hotch hadn’t been expecting it and he lost his balance slightly. They both looked down at Reid’s hands. Reid looked at them like he couldn’t believe they were part of his body. Hotch looked down at how pure they were.

Reid had killed unsubs when it was the only way to save other people, but he was still innocent in so many other ways. He’d never hit the table to intimidate a suspect because that was Hotch’s job. He was the one that played bad cop, whilst they trusted Reid to successfully empathise.

Reid had never killed a man with their bare hands.

Hotch momentarily let go of Reid, and Reid tried to use that opportunity to grab Maeve’s hand. But Hotch was quicker, and before Spencer knew what was going on, Hotch had grabbed both his wrists and was holding them in front of his chest.

Both their eyes shone with tears.

“Let me go,” Spencer begged.

“No. Spencer listen to me. You don’t want your one and only memory of her touch to be when she couldn’t respond. You know better than me that she is going to be unresponsive. You won’t be able to kid yourself into thinking that she did indeed clasp your hand. Her perfume will be tinged with the stench of blood and she will be cold. Remember Maeve as the woman that made you smile. That was warm and bright. Not like this.”

Spencer relaxed against him, the tears falling. Hotch pulled him closer, holding him tight. At some point, Alex crept forward and gave the two of them a hug. She told them they needed to go. Reid shook his head. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down the stairs.

“I want to go to my apartment,” Reid stated after they took his statement. Hotch had sat with him the whole time. Reid’s monotony scared him and he wondered if the look on the officer’s face was the same as the one that been on Strauss’ after he spoke about Foyet.

“Spence,” JJ said, reaching for him.

“My apartment. Please. Hotch?”

Hotch knew why Reid had asked for it to be him. Because if he declined, Reid could come after him. Say that when Haley died, leaving behind a young son whose memories of his father were patchy and disrupted, Hotch had refused to stay with anyone. Instead, he had sat in the darkness of his apartment in case the monsters from Jack’s dreams came to life once more.

“If you need anything,” he said with a sigh, because he was the only one that understood.

Spencer nodded. But Hotch knew he wouldn’t.

They drove in silence. Hotch itched to say something but what? He understood what it was like to lose the one person that made your life better, but at the end of the day, he hadn’t been there. He had heard it over the phone. Spencer would see the images every time he closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

Reid shook his head, exited the car but did not close the door.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid’s pause meant he heard him. His lack of response meant he didn’t have any words of comfort that would not be lies. Perhaps that hurt more than Jessica’s sad smile when he got him and distractedly ruffled Jack’s hair, unable to focus on what he was saying properly.

He’d made the right decision in not letting Spencer touch the body. He knew he had. It didn’t stop him from wrapping Jack up in the coat Haley had picked and going to her grave. He knew Jack was missing his mom, so the trip served a dual purpose.

Jack liked to lay flowers at the graves that didn’t have any because- in his words- it would mean everyone would be as happy as his mommy was. As he did that, Hotch spoke.

“I didn’t let him touch her. I need to convince myself that was the right thing, but what if it wasn’t? I have years of touches to hold onto. He had never met her before then. What if one day, he wakes up and resents me because he can’t even imagine what she feels like?”

If Haley were alive, she would rub his shoulder and tell him he was a good man that needed to stop doubting every decision he made because he knew his team better than they knew themselves and that Reid would never hate him.

Be annoyed at him for specific things he did and lash out because he was in the wrong, yes. But hate him? Never.

Only Haley wasn’t alive. Hotch sighed, called Jack over and hesitated slightly when Jack held his hand out. Hours before, he had been holding a gun, ready to fire. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now another piece of Spencer had been lost to the abyss.

When Spencer didn’t return to work immediately, he was relieved. At least he was taking the time he needed to grieve and recover instead of rushing back and never dealing with the pain until it got so bad he could hardly breathe without holding back a sob.

He turned up on their case. Everyone else was excited to see him, because it meant he was alive. Hotch wasn’t so sure. Reid had never known anything other than the BAU, and that was partially his fault for not putting his foot down and telling Gideon the kid needed more experience before working as a profiler.

But there were people that needed saving, so he let it go.

And then he heard Spencer tell Dave how he wasn’t sleeping because he kept seeing Maeve asking him to dance but he had never been able to touch her. It was like a punch to the gut. Spencer had never touched Maeve because Hotch had told him not to, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t hear Dave’s response. He used that moment to tell Alex he needed the bathroom. She seemed slightly taken aback but shifted out the way for him.

When Spencer came in after that, he seemed peaceful. He had danced with Maeve. Now, even though it wasn’t real, he had his closure because he’d been able to touch her, which was all he had wanted. Maybe it had something to do with being touch-starved.

Hotch thought of Haley. What would he give to see her one last time? Just to say he was sorry?

He was telling the team about a missing girl, but it was getting harder to breathe, and he couldn’t make out what the screen in front of him was displaying.

Before he knew what was happening, the world around him was going black and the frantic shouts of his team were not enough to bring him back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

“Haley?” he whispered.

She looked beautiful. Her dress shone, and her hair was the same blonde it had been the day she’d gone into witness protection. She looked like the girl that had exploded into his life and taught him how to say I love you. That had taught him the meaning of light and who had changed his life forever.

“Hi baby,” she said with a grin.

He smiled. His light had come back to him.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #spencer reid #reid #george foyet #haley hotchner #jack hotchner #emily prentiss #prentiss #jennifer jareau #jj #jason gideon #david rossi #rossi #penelope garcia #garcia #alex blake #maeve donovan #i know haley deserved better but #yeah

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language + severe triggerwarning for victims of domestic abuse.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: House-hunting, mole-hunting and Anita-hunting (sort of). And this chapter is like 95% conversation.

Chapter 32

  “Are you serious?”

  “What?”

  “That is way too big… What would we even do with all that?”

  “Hermosa, we fill the space we have. That’s not a euphemism, just a fact. If we have four rooms, we’ll fill those, and if we have twelve, we’ll fill those too.”

  “Who the fuck needs twelve rooms?”

  “It only has eight rooms.”

  “And there are only four of us.”

  “So, that’s it? No room to grow further?”

  “Honey, just how much are you anticipating this little family to grow? That’s a totally serious question, by the way. How many kids would you actually like to have?”

  “If your weird-ass body permits – like… four.”

  “Hey, who are you calling w…… did you just say four?”

  “Yup.”

  “What… including Missy, or… an additional four?”

  “I’m not picky. If we end up with just the two little miracles we have, I’ll still be the happiest man alive, but I wouldn’t mind having a bunch. Five, six, however many our love can create, I’ll be more than happy to nurture and raise and love all of them unconditionally, even when they inevitably pee on me.”

  You had no idea how to answer that, so you just stared at him. But he knew how ambivalent you were about all things concerning family, so he didn’t pose the question back to you, and instead just smiled while he watched the cogs in your mind struggle to fit together.

  “S-six… you’d be okay with another… six kids?”

  “Mhm.”

  “Fuck, Marcus, I’m struggling to even get it into my head that we’re gonna be joined by a tiny fragile infant in about 7 months, how are you already contemplating another five?!”

  “Relax, preciosa, I’m not actively contemplating it, I’m just answering a question. Saying I wouldn’t mind something, doesn’t mean I’m aiming for it.”

  “But you’re looking at houses with eight rooms…”

  “Like I said: we fill the space we have. Rooms have endless usages, it’s not like we have to make all of them bedrooms. We can have home-offices, a separate play-room, a separate dining room.”

  “Yeah, I get all that, it just seems excessive.”

  “Sweetheart, all I’m saying is, we’re looking for a home for life. If our family grows more, I don’t want to have to move again. I want the place we pick to be one that can take anything we weirdo’s throw at it.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll look at the big-ass house.”

  “Thank you.”

  He handed you the phone and you scrolled through the different images, seeing things you liked and things you didn’t. But when you got to the master bedroom, your eyebrows shot up. The room looked ordinary at first glance, but when you took a closer look, you noticed that it had some special features.

  “Marcus… is this why you’re so interested in this house?”

  “It’s not the only reason…”

  “Who the fuck owns this place - Stormy Daniels?”

  “No, just some accountant.”

  “The bedroom is soundproofed.”

  “Which is convenient and useful for all kinds of people, but especially parents.”

  “Hard pass.”

  “We could just go and look at it before you dismiss it completely.”

  “Nope. Not happening. Move on.”

  “Why? Seriously, what’s so bad about it? Missy wouldn’t have to wear headphones every other night, and we wouldn’t have to worry about her overhearing stuff.”

  “Yes, those are good points. But: what if something happens to one of us, and the other needs to shout for help? What if something happens to Missy, and she tries to shout for help and we can’t hear her? What if someone breaks into the house, and we don’t hear it? I mean, I’m pretty sure you have super-hearing, but I don’t, and you’re not home every second of every day. I want to live in a house that speaks to me. You know, the way our house used to creak in the mornings when the sun warmed it, and settle again in the evenings, when it cooled. And if we are gonna have a bunch of kids, I sure as shit wanna be able to hear every little thing they get up to.”

  He looked ridiculously pleased at how you’d thought that through.

  “Got it, hard pass on all soundproofing. But can I ask you another serious question? One you might not have such a clear answer for?”

  “Sure.”

  “Our house… why did you send the whole thing over there? Why not just Prince and his machines?”

  “There wasn’t any thought involved with that, just instinct, and at the time, the house didn’t feel safe. I walked in and it was like entering a tomb. And I honestly don’t know if I could’ve ever walked in to that house again without having that feeling.”

  “I can understand that, mi amor. And I hope you know that I’m not asking because I’m in any way upset with you. I saw the look in your eyes in those moments, and I know how scared you were. To be able to utilise your abilities with that kind of precision and delicacy right then, was down-right miraculous.”

  “Let’s just hope I never have to try and repeat that miracle. Now, what’s next on your list?”

  He tapped away on his phone, blinking a few times at the wetness in his eyes, before handing it back to you.

  “Wow… this is even bigger.”

  “Same number of rooms, just a bigger kitchen and more garage-space.”

  “Oh, I like the yard.”

  “Check out the backyard.”

  “Holy… that’s huge! And a pool. We’d need guardrails around that, or I’d be perpetually terrified for the baby to fall in. Are those trees on the property as well?”

  “Yes. That whole little patch of woods is.”

  “Really? I mean, a pair of swings in those trees…”

  You were so engrossed in the phone that you didn’t see Marcus smile wider as he watched you fall in love with the place.

  “Oh, I love the kitchen. And there’s a fireplace! Those are beautiful floors. Holy shit – I could swim in that bathtub…”

  “Sooo…… you like it?”

  “I do.”

  “Enough to go have a look?”

  “Definitely. But Missy has to come too.”

  He beamed. You’d had a few long conversations about the house-hunting before you actually started, and after a meeting at the bank, you’d found out that your credit was basically more than big enough for anything you might want, which was an odd thing to try and get your head around. Not that you wanted a life of luxury, but it was sort of strange to realise that you actually could have practically any kind of life you chose, in terms of housing.   The two of you had settled on a firmly planted roof of expense that you were willing to extend to the purchase. And even though this house was huge and renovated to the nines with modern upgrades, that still managed to float seamlessly into the older stem and feel of the house, it wasn’t really particularly near that roof.

  “I’ll call the realtor and see if they can fit us in later this week.”

  “It’s a nice area. A little out of the way, but a good neighbourhood, and Missy wouldn’t have to change schools. Our commute to work would be a bit longer, but on quieter roads. And there’s a fence around the property. We could get a dog, or two. Or even a frickin’ pony with the size of that backyard.”

  Marcus just stared at you with that giddy smile firmly planted in his whole frame, while you rambled on, completely lost in your own thoughts, until his silence eventually made you snap out of it and look at him.

  “Oh, crap. I’m already moving in, aren’t I…?”

  He just laughed and hugged you.

  “I’m definitely on board with the dogs. But I’m gonna need my phone back if I’m gonna be able to call the realtor.”

  You quickly handed it back to him, just as there was a careful knock on the door.   You were in Marcus’s office, sitting in one of the sofas, perfectly naturally just sitting next to each other, for once. It had only been a week since you were released from medical, and he was still a little worried about getting you worked up, so you hadn’t been together yet, and it was creating something of a space between you. Not a wall, nothing that exclusive, just a little void that was a bit hard to reach across.   He called for the person to enter, and Will stepped in, immediately shooting an apologetic glance at Marcus. He still hadn’t quite recovered from seeing Cujo that time, even though Marcus had apologized for scaring him.

  “Hi, sorry, I was told I could find you here.”

  You smiled warmly at him to ease his discomfort.

  “What’s up, Will?”

  “Uh, Miss. Timmons is looking for you, she needs your help.”

  Oh, for fucks sake…

  “Let me guess; she screwed up her paperwork, again?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Damned it, Izzy. Wait, why’d she send you to get me, you’re not an errand-boy, she couldn’t have picked up the phone?”

  “She did go looking for you in your office, but when you weren’t there, she got a little… desperate. She knows that she’s messed up too many times already, and I think she’s genuinely scared that you’re gonna fire her. She started crying outside your office and I was just passing by, so I offered to go find you for her.”

  “If I had the authority to fire her, I would’ve already done it.”

  You sighed and got up to leave, but Marcus caught your elbow.

  “You’re not gonna go back to work, right? We talked about that.”

  “If I know Izzy, this won’t be solved by correcting a few clerical errors.”

  “So, let someone else do it.”

  “No one else can, honey. That’s why I still have my job despite the number of sick-days I have.”

  “Preciosa… it’s dangerous. Prince’s people are in this building, and if he was obsessed with you, or us, then so are they. None of us can afford to be distracted right now.”

  “I know, but we still have to live. We’re still the same people, and neither one of us are the type of person that’s just gonna stand by when someone needs help. If the team needs you, I expect you to go and help them, not just because that’s your job, but because that’s who you are.”

  “Just don’t let yourself get too engrossed. Stay alert at all times. We have no idea who’s a friend and who isn’t.”

  “I’ll check in with you every hour, okay?”

  “Every half-hour. And just until you’ve sorted this mess out, then you come back and find me, you don’t start on another three problems you discover along the way.”

  “Are you giving me orders now, Team Leader?”

  He grabbed your hips and pulled you in close, so that your bodies were only millimetres apart and his nose was brushing against yours. It was more than enough to heat you up after six weeks of inactivity, but the tremble of emotion in his voice when he spoke next, pushed the desire aside, to make way for compassion.

  “I can’t lose you again. I’ll do anything…”

  You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. How many times had you lost each other already? Your ability made it so easy for you to feel like it was your job to save others, like it was what you were put in this world to do, and especially where your family was concerned. So, you had to start reminding yourself that while you would probably always be able to absorb anything bad that happened to them – you’d also always hurt them by doing that. Your ability came with a terrible price, and you were only lucky to have survived everything you’d been through thus far.   Marcus was right, you had to be more careful.   You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and nestled your nose into his neck. His arms closed around your waist and held you to him, strong and sure, and you felt like you could just stand there for the rest of the day.

  “I promise I’ll be careful, and not take any risks. I love you.”

  “Te amo, querida.”

  Will had moved to stand outside the door after Marcus started talking to you, but he fell in behind you when you walked past him.

  “So, where is she, and what has she done?”

  It felt really good to get back into something familiar and achievable again. To do something that generated an immediate response and result, and within fifteen minutes you suddenly understood why Marcus had been so worried. You got lost in the task in no time at all.   You sent him a text while you waited for a lawyer to call you back.

  [You’re right, I’m already cheating.]

  [How bad?]

  [Two other issues already solved, while I’m waiting to work out Izzy’s.]

  [Why are you waiting?]

  [Because lawyers always have something better to do.]

  [Fine. But as soon as it’s dealt with, you come back to me. I’ll be at the control centre.]

  [Promise. What’s going on?]

  [Just two small countries deciding to go to war over the quality of their chocolate.]

  [Well… I suppose there are worse things.]

  [They’re hurling missiles at each other over fucking candy…]

  [Wow… Where’s Máma when you need her?]

  [Don’t you worry, she’s right here, so this should be sorted out by the time you get here.]

  [Oh, in that case, I am so calling her Chocoreno from now on.]

  [Please don’t…]

  [Only if she doesn’t solve it.]

  [*sigh*]

  After another eight phone calls and a lot of grovelling to people you really didn’t like, you finally managed to set things straight, and went to find Izzy to give her a piece of your mind - again. But when you got to her office, she was on the phone and turned away from the door, so she didn’t see you come in, and you accidentally overheard the end of her conversation.

  “No, of course not, I’ll be straight home from work. Why would I make any stops? --- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you… --- No, baby, don’t… I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. --- Anything you want, name it. --- Yeah, that sounds.. nice. I’ll be home soon.”

  Shit.

  She turned around, looking absolutely terrified, and then she saw you by the door and quickly tried to adapt a neutral expression. She was good at it too, within half a second there was no trace of fear in her face. You only got that good at hiding your feelings if you knew that showing them meant terrible pain.

  “So, everything’s taken care of, no harm done.”

  “Really? Oh, thank you. I’m so sorry, I swear I don’t mean to mess up the papers, it just gets to be too much sometimes.”

  “Izzy, if I ask you a personal question, will you answer me honestly?”

  A trace of fear re-emerged in her features, but she nodded carefully.

  “Is it work that gets to be too much… or is it home?”

  You could see the internal struggle. The need to be free of the fear and the pain, and that same fear making it almost impossible. All the irritation and frustration fell away from you with the realisation that she wasn’t incompetent at all. She was being smothered.   How many times had you added to her stress and general feeling of inadequacy, by barking at her for constantly missing or screwing up doing things? Why hadn’t you seen the signs sooner, you knew every single one of them?

  “I’ve been where you are, Izzy. I should have seen this. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, honestly, I’m fine.”

  “Show me your arms and your stomach. If they aren’t bruised, I might believe you.”

  She squirmed where she stood, and her head dropped in defeat.

  “When was the last time you didn’t have an injury somewhere? When was the last time you could move without feeling pain somewhere?”

  She just kept staring at the floor, shaking her head, trying to will it not to be true, so you walked up to her, pushed your energy around her, and healed her.   The amount of energy that it drained from you, told you everything you needed to know about how injured she was, and you quickly reached into your back pocket to retrieve a pill from the small box you kept with you at all times these days.   Izzy stared wide-eyed at you, while you fumbled with a paper-cup at her water-cooler, hands shaking with the sudden loss of strength. Then she suddenly sprung to life and came to help you fill the cup and down the pill.

  “Jesus Christ, girl, how were you even standing with all that damage?”

  “I… got used to it over time. He didn’t… start out that bad.”

  “They never do.”

  “Thank you. So much.”

  “Thank me by letting me beat the living hell out of that guy.”

  “You’d better not. But… maybe… you could ask one of the guys on the team to… talk to him?”

  “Are you serious? You wanna stay with him? No, honey, no amount of talking is gonna fix him.”

  “No, I meant like… talk him into not killing me for leaving him.”

  “Oh… Yeah. That I could probably do. Just give me his name and address.”

  You downed another pill, and started feeling better, while Izzy scribbled on a note for you. You took it and read it, and stuffed it down your other back pocket.

  “You should stay here tonight, just in case he decides to try anything. And call me if you need anything, Marcus and I are still living here, so we’re close, okay?”

  She seemed to hesitate about something.

  “What is it?”

  “Um… do you know Jack Daven?”

  “Who?”

  “He’s a kid who interns at the science division.”

  “Oh, Jackie. Yeah, unfortunately I do know who he is.”

  He was the kid you threw head-first into a wall.

  “I just… I think he might have something to do with your mole situation.”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “A while back, he came to me saying that science had sent him with some paperwork that needed to be signed, but when I looked at it, I realised that it was actually for research, and I told him that. And he laughed it off saying that he’d just made a mistake, but that didn’t seem very likely, because the forms he had were for release of testing materials. They wouldn’t send an errand-boy to retrieve those, they’re too dangerous. At the time I figured that maybe he’d been sent with an escort, for learning purposes, and that I just never saw them. But, now with the investigation, I think there might have been more to it than that. I was just too scared to... I didn’t know who to trust with it.”

  “You can always trust me. Thank you, Izzy, I’m so sorry that I ever thought of you as incompetent.”

  “Forgive me and I’ll forgive you.”

  “Done.”

  You ran full speed back to Ops, and almost collided with the automatic door to the control centre. Marcus was working at a station to the left, and smiled without looking up as he heard you. Anita was at the centre console, with her back to you.

  “Damned it, why do all automatic doors move so fucking slowly?”

  “Ah, I hear my future daughter-in-law has entered the premises.”

  “Shut it, Chocoreno.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Choco-reno, the clue’s in the name, máma.”

  “Ay, loco, today’s not a good day to test me.”

  “Why, does máma need a hug?”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Fine. How about some nice chocolate instead? I hear there might be some steep discounts on a couple of brands.”

  “Mujer… did you burst in here for a reason? Because if not, I’ll burst you right back out.”

  “Hah, I’d like to see you try.”

  She huffed.

  “As you wish.”

  You caught a glimpse of Marcus’ expression as it shifted from bemused to genuinely worried, when Anita turned and came towards you.

  “Mooom…”

  She ignored him and tried to grab you, but your ghost hands caught hers before she could make contact, and they were much stronger than your physical hands.   She definitely had super-strength, that much was obvious right away, and she wasn’t holding back. You could feel your strength begin to drain, so you changed tactics. You flooded the room with energy, and then drew it back to compact it all around yourself, creating that same kind of barrier that the Inventor hadn’t been able to break through, despite his genius belt-modification.   And then you just stood there, perfectly still to conserve energy, while she tried in vain to push you out of the room.

  “Mom, stop it, right now!”

  As her focus momentarily shifted towards Marcus, you saw the smile that played in her features. She was just having fun, testing your strength and flexing her own, whilst getting some frustration out of her system, knowing full well that you could take it.   Feeling certain she wouldn’t kill you for it, you grabbed the opportunity.   You let the wall of energy disappear as she was leaning against it with all her might, and as the barrier fell, so did Anita – right into your arms.   It was a bit like trying to catch a running bull, and the impact was certainly painful, but you ignored it and just hugged her to you.   She scrambled out of your grip, but you just smiled at her, because you knew she enjoyed every moment of it.

  “I have to say, I’ve never had to fight my way into a hug before.”

  “That wasn’t a hug, loco.”

  “Yes, it was, and you know it. Do you feel better now, or do you need another?”

  She was actually contemplating another round, which prompted Marcus to step in between you.

  “Do I have to remind both of you that you’re pregnant, hermosa? Playful or not, you’re not fighting each other again, now, tell me why you were moving so fast that the doors were too slow for you?”

   Oh, for fucks sake, why where you so easily distracted?

  “Right… We should probably talk in private. Considering the fact that it’s only been two hours since we sat in your office looking at houses – a hell of a lot’s happened.”

  He led the way towards the door, and you shot a look at Anita, over your shoulder.

  “Raincheck on that hug?”

  “I’ll boogie with you anytime, loco.”

  “That’s how you boogie? And you call me ‘loco’.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve earned that one, many times over.”

 Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[cyndalyssa]

Oh, Look, Another Darkwing Drabble

This one’s a snippet of a bigger story in my head, based on the idea of Bushroot going massive mindless monstrosity. 

I dunno if I’ll ever write the rest of the story down, my life tends to get a little busy and I already have a lot of ideas I want to make in my free time, but I at least wanted to exercise the writing muscles. 

All was quiet at the Museum of Failed Experiments. The dark of night gave the appearance of rest to each polished display, even those that were still lit. Though dignified it looked, the place was home to quite a bit of failure, hence the name. Each wing, covering branches of science and engineering, was a hall of shame, showing off embarrassments, tragedies, and unfinished projects to the citizens of St. Canard.

It was at this scene that the night guards present had unfortunate encounters. A flower that sprayed sleeping gas, a stun gun, a joy buzzer that ended in instant knockout, being washed into a closet by water from the drinking fountain, and just getting hit by a mallet were their fates, and they were swiftly locked up by the intruders.  

The Fearsome Five then had the place to themselves. 

As they met up in the lobby, Megavolt couldn’t help but look up, in awe of the enormity of it. “Wowza, they really went all out on this place!” He glanced back at the corridor from whence he came and smiled. “They’ve got gizmos and gadgets aplenty!”

Quackerjack bounced to his side. “And whozits and whatzits galore!”

“They got thingamabobs?”

“Psht, at least twenty!”

Megavolt laughed. “I can’t believe they gave up on some of these! I oughta grab ‘em and show everyone how it’s done!” 

Quackerjack grinned. “Oh, I feel you, Sparky! In fact, I’m getting quite a bit of inspiration myself from doodads like the fruit-flavored fireworks! Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo, can you just imagine a literal explosion of fruity goodness?”

Megavolt narrowed his eyes, his plug hat sparking and an irritated growl in his voice. “How many times have I told you not to call me Sparky?”

“Not like you can remember.”

Cutting between them, the Liquidator piped in, “Fruit-flavored fireworks? The phenomenon of the century, guaranteed to sweeten up your 4th of July celebrations! Comes in apple, cherry, grape, and blue raspberry.”

Bushroot scratched his head. “I’m just wondering how the inventor expected that to work. What kind of chemistry was involved?”

Negaduck rolled his eyes. “Blegh, of course you dweebs get hopped up on exploding fruit snacks. Now remember, children, we’re not here for the fireworks, we’re here for the portal gun that’s supposed to be displayed here… and I expect you to be looking for it!” 

The other four silently stared at him for a moment, glanced at each other, and then back to him. Then, Megavolt asked, “Well, what does it look like?”

“It’s red and vaguely gun-shaped, with a spinny thing at the end,” Negaduck answered in baby-talk. Then he snapped, “I’m sure you could figure it out from the display name! Now, get to searching!”

Negaduck stormed upstairs. Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed to the technology wing--partially running from Negaduck, partially rushing to see what kind of doodads they could see. Perhaps even take some and modify them for later mischief. 

Liquidator was about to flow down another hall when he noticed Bushroot at the directory. The plant duck glanced the direction of the hall that Quackerjack and Megavolt rushed down, and then up the stairs that Negaduck had descended. Then, almost sneakily, he went in the opposite direction and toward the natural science and chemistry wing. 

Curious, Liquidator decided to follow him, and had caught up in a second. “One in ten customers would say that this portal gun is not in this wing, Bushroot.”

Bushroot flinched at the sudden voice, but quickly regained his composure. “Well, uh… when studying the map earlier, I recall that the storage room was somewhere in this direction. It could be in there.”

Liquidator raised a watery eyebrow. “You want an excuse to look around, huh?”

Bushroot glanced away. “Well… it couldn’t hurt. I mean, I’m curious and I don’t know when I’ll be able to have another opportunity for a museum visit.” He looked back to see Liquidator still staring like a disappointed parent. “But I do think storage is in this wing, honest!”

“Hm. Well, if it’s in this direction, why not treat yourself to this once-in-a-lifetime super private tour? Just don’t get too distracted, and it’ll be between you and me.”

“O-oh, that’s no problem. I’m a pretty fast reader.”

The two mutants wandered around the natural science and chemistry wing, looking for a door or hall or basement staircase that led to that storage room. However, Liquidator was doing most of the looking, sweeping around the rooms quickly, while Bushroot, though still looking at the walls in hopes of spotting the passage they were looking for, was circling displays in fascination. There were models and pictures of odd creatures or monstrosities, as well as deformed skeletons of unfortunate souls. He read about attempts to clone prehistoric plants and even animals, a tale of a man who accidentally fused himself with a fly, and the horror of radioactive moss. On occasion, he’d stumble on a display involving water, and invite Likki to take a look. 

Every so often, Liquidator would look to see what Bushroot was doing. There were moments that Bushroot seemed to be genuinely looking for that storage room--such as now, when walking along the wall of glass cases full of more experiments, he paused at a gap in the wall, looking at a door, but saw that it was an emergency exit and then moved on. Otherwise, the plant duck was more invested in the science that surrounded him, which Likki had a little trouble relating to. While some of the stuff involving water was interesting, he otherwise didn’t care for the biological stuff that Bushroot was so entranced by. 

Meanwhile, so far, the only doors they had found were emergency exits, but nothing leading to any storage or basement at some point. Liquidator was almost of the mind that Bushroot duped him, but Bushy wasn’t like that.

At some point, when Liquidator finally found a hallway that looked promising, Bushroot suddenly cried, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Alarmed, Likki splashed his way to where Bushroot stood, at a display in the corner about biological chemical disasters. The plant duck was looking quite offended, glaring at one particular shelf where a green substance, surrounded by plant models and photos of a strange machine, sat. Likki took a closer look at the label, which read:

Chloroplast Infusion Solution, Dr. Reginald Bushroot, Ph.D

Skimming over the description of the substance, what it was supposed to do, and how it backfired, Likki just glanced over to Bushroot, who held his head in his leafy hands. 

“How humiliating! I can’t believe I made it into the Hall of Shame!”

Likki patted him on the back. “Aw, Bushy, do not fret! After all, you’ve gotten an upgrade! Who needs a normal sad sap scientist when you can have a super plant that can grow a forest with just a thought?” 

A sharp glare arose from Bushroot’s palms. “I just wanted to alleviate world hunger… and, uh, maybe get a little respect…”

“Respect, huh?” Likki shook his head. “I’m sure with your power, you can easily command it.”

“There is a difference between respect and fear.”

“Hm. Well, as Bud Flud, I was just a salesman trying to keep my business afloat; but as the Liquidator, I became master of all liquids, one with the water, and a force to be reckoned with!” A sphere of water detached from Likki’s hand and revolved around it. “I know my power, and I revel in it.” 

He grabbed the sphere, reabsorbing it. “As for you… well, you’ve got potential, but you lack nerve. Someday, I’d like to see you cut loose, show them what Bushroot is really capable of.”

Bushroot glanced at him, pondering on whether he should remind Liquidator of Negaduck and their shared fear of him, but decided against it. He crossed his arms. “Fine, whatever you say.”

He went back to glaring at the display of his fateful project. “If those two ignoramuses had just minded their own business and not made me look bad in front of the dean, then I would’ve still had the funding to test on the lab rats instead of myself. You know, catch the kinks and find a way to iron them out. But… here I am now.”

“I’d say that career change was for the better.”

“But I liked being a scientist… sure, I hated my coworkers--except one--but I love science.”

Likki shrugged. “Life sucks and we just gotta roll with the punches.” He turned around and marched toward that one hallway. “Now, come on, there’s a storage room calling our names, and who knows when the purple menace will pop in.”

Bushroot sighed, taking one last look at his experiment’s exhibit. “All right, I’ll stop wasting ti--”

He stopped when he caught a name on the display right next to his. Eyes boggling, he grabbed the bottle from that shelf and shouted, “Goodness grapevines! He has one here too?”

Likki stopped and turned around. “Inquiring minds must know… who’s he?” 

Bushroot gestured to the name on the display, which, when Likki took a closer look, read ‘Dr. Arthur Bones’. “He was my rival back in college, and he was one of the meanest, most condescending jerks that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t know what I ever did to him, but sometimes it felt like it was his life’s mission just to convince me that everything I do is stupid and dangerous. Hmph, at least my buddy Andrew had my back.”

Liquidator rubbed his chin. “You just have a way of attracting bullies, don’t you? At the very least, you can take some joy that Dr. Bones is also in the Hall of Shame!”

“Yeah, I guess I could.” Bushroot looked at the label on the bottle, brow furrowed in confusion. “Although I do wonder what he was doing making fertilizer. Last I remember, he was into genetics--especially studies on mutations and defects.”

“For more information, check the description--it’s right there.”

Bushroot turned to the description and read aloud, “‘In 1990, a miracle growth formula invented by Dr. Bones took several western states by storm. With a natural sweet scent and potent power, it improved the lives of gardeners everywhere by making plants healthier, stronger, and sturdier against disease and pests, and helping them to grow faster than normal’.” He scratched his chin and nodded. “Well, now I’m tempted to bring it home with me and see what my plants think.”

Liquidator chuckled. “Oh, I bet they’d love it! The amazing miracle fertilizer, guaranteed to create a happy and hearty garden!”

“Ee-hee, it does sound great.” Bushroot’s smile fell into a frown as he turned back to the description. “But this is a Museum of Failed Experiments, so there is a catch here... ‘While at first it seemed to be a blessing, it soon proved to be dangerous for people, as proven with the Mallard High School Football Team during the fall of 1990. Reports of--’”

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

The sudden voice from nowhere made them jump. Bushroot even ended up tossing the bottle of fertilizer into the air. He didn’t even hear the second part of the introduction, too distracted by gravity smashing the bottle onto his head. The glass shattered, and fertilizer splashed everywhere on him and the floor, leaving him a dripping mess. His roots started lapping up the puddle that remained. 

“I am… Darkwing Duck!”

#darkwing duck #fearsome five #bushroot #liquidator #megavolt #quackerjack #negaduck #drabble #lyssa writes #wishing i had more time and motivation to write

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (2.7)🌪

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2436

spending time studying became easier and easier by the day for soobin with your help of course. even in school he found himself using your methods of studying and was actually pretty consistent with it. studying was also good in terms of him passing his exams but it was also an excellent tool for soobin to try and forget what occurred just a couple of days ago. He’d been spending so much time with you he hoped you wouldn’t find out about it at all.

but there was nothing to be done when it featured all over the news this morning. soobin curses under his breath knowing this would be the buzz of the school for days on end. nevertheless he nervously awaits outside the door of your classroom. it would be his first time seeing you since the news released not too long ago. the bell rung and students were pooling out of the classrooms in a frenzy about what had happened. some even saying they wanted to stop by and see the scene before they went home. soobin thought it was weird, but whatever. he lays his head back on the wall until you strolled out of the classroom with books tucked into your arm. you walked out without even looking at him so he caught up to you, tugging your arm back.

“mama--”.

“soobin, I don’t know if I want to talk to you right now”. you stated as calm as you possibly could. 

“so you’ve heard?”.

you placed your hand on your hip at his reply. 

“what do you mean have I heard? do you think I was born yesterday. It’s obvious who did it. my question is why didn’t you stop them?”.

“why is this my fault?”.

“I been told you to tell your idiot friends to leave her alone and that whatever they had going on is over. you didn’t do it did you?”.

soobin sighs in defeat. 

“you’re acting like they would’ve listened to me”.

“why wouldn’t they? you’re choi soobin right? the cute rich that every guy in this school wants to be? most popular? the one who calls all the shots right?”.

you turn to walk away but soobin pulls your arm back again. 

“you don’t understand how difficult this is. they won’t stop. that night when they did it I was with you. I wasn’t involved at all--”.

“because they’re your friends this means you’re just as attached to this situation as they are. mia was already being effected by other medication but now she has to deal with this trauma too? theres no telling what they did to her in that house soobin”. 

“why are you pinning this on me? you’re acting like I told them to do it”.

“why are you trying to disassociate yourself from them now as if you all weren’t close weeks ago?”.

“I’m trying to be a better person. I really am, princess. you have to believe me when I say I didn’t want that to happen to mia just as much as the next person. I’m just as confused about their motives as you are”. 

honestly, you thought. who did soobin think he was? did he really think he could win you over with his innocent face and pet names? because if that’s what he thought then... maybe he’s right. you had to admit you saw him changing himself piece by piece. although he isn’t entirely perfect now you knew he was trying. you calmed yourself down before you spoke. 

“so what do you think this is going to mean for you soobin?”. 

soobin sighs, knowing what you meant by that. 

“I- I don’t know. but don’t worry. my parents know a lot of people and can pay for lawyers to lift any suits if they are placed on me”.

you unconsciously frown. since soobin wasn’t there you knew his friends would try to make everything seem as if it were his idea. because you knew even long ago that his friends weren’t as real as soobin thought they were, and that’s just the type of people they were. and although soobin was one of them not too long you began to think that maybe it isn’t fair for soobin to get wrapped up in their antics after all. 

soobin pulls you into his chest hugging you and kissing you on your forehead. he was already scared and worried for himself enough, he couldn’t deal with you being worried for him too. 

“i’ll be fine. you just keep worrying about passing these exams so you won’t get punished by your mom”.

you placed your chin on his chest, now looking up at him. 

“have you been studying on your own? how is it going?”. you ask. 

“bad. it’s boring studying alone”. 

“why? because you don’t have someone to touch constantly?”.

you smirk detaching yourself from him now starting to walk to your next class. soobin laughs behind you. “that’s not true”. he calls louder watching you turn inside. he missed you between classes, he really did. once he was finished watching you he turned around to see yeonjun standing behind him with a grin waiting at the corner of his lips. 

“are you done loverboy?”. 

“where the hell did you come from?”.

“the shadows. let’s go to free period we have to talk”. 

soobin nodded, following yeonjun into the library with their designated teacher and sitting at their designated table. soobin piles his textbooks and notebook on the table. yeonjun does the same, the both of them knowing they weren’t going to get much studying done. 

“so you saw the news this morning?”. yeonjun starts. soobin was sharpening his pencil. 

“unfortunately”. 

“and you do know that mia ratted them out to the police right?”. soobin’s eyes widened. he stops his sharpening. 

“she did what?”. 

“they are no longer suspects anymore soobin”.

soobin’s heart tanked. 

“it’s only a matter of time before your name pops up”. yeonjun mentions again. 

“I’m going to get a lawyer”. soobin replies.

“make sure you get a good one soobin. since you were friends with them at one point it’s going to have a bad reflection on you”.

“it might, but where is the proof that I planned the whole thing? how would they even get away with saying that?”. 

“you’d be surprised the lengths that people go to just get themselves out of trouble. especially with the charges they have over their heads”. soobin breathes again, trying to feel positive that his lawyer would be the one to get him through this. 

“does your girlfriend know?”. yeonjun asks, 

“she knows about the incident and she was getting mad at me because she told me to tell them to stop messing with mia and I didn’t tell them. she’s saying that if I did what she said I wouldn’t be in this situation right now”.

yeonjun nods. 

“what are you going to do if the hotel situation comes up?”.

“why would it?”.

“the boys need evidence to deem you capable of carrying out such a plan. the more clearer the evidence gets the closer you are to becoming an inmate”. 

soobin gulps. at this rate, the only thing that was on his side was time. 

“whatever you do, you have to tell your lawyer everything. like everything in full detail so they are able to defend you when it comes up”. 

“everything?”.

“yes everything. the last thing a lawyer wants is to be surprised with some new information by their client in court. above all else though, you must be ready for anything”. 

soobin nods. it was going to be hard to admit what he’d done but he would rather do so than to be sent to prison. he tapped his pencil on his paper a couple of times before speaking. 

“yeonjun”. 

“yo?”.

“why are you helping me? you aren’t afraid of getting caught in it?”.

yeonjun shrugs, writing the last of his sentence before speaking. 

“if i’m caught in this i’ll protect you”. 

“but why?”.

“because you’re just a dumb bastard whose trying to be a good person and your friends are fucking it up for you”. 

soobin chuckled a little. “thanks, dipshit”. 

“what did i say about thanking me?”. yeonjun playfully responds. the joy in yeonjun gave soobin at least a little bit of hope. hopefully he’d be able to get himself out of this. that’s all that clouded his mind these days. he’s done bad stuff in his life but he never knew it would lead him to this extreme. but all of this clouded worry was brushed away when school was over and he was able to see you again. 

he kisses your neck while you were retrieving things from your locker and you flinch. he laughs at your shock and you looked like you wanted to kill him. 

“soobin! what are you doing?”. he pinches your cheek softly. 

“I can’t kiss you?”. 

“not on the neck--at school”. you reply. he childishly rolls his eyes and waits for you. 

“this is the beauty that I haven’t gotten a chance to meet yet”. yeonjun grins approaching soobin’s side. you turn, trying to figure who it was that said that. some blue haired kid that you haven’t saw around here before. you kind of thought he was cute but, don’t tell soobin that. 

“yeonjun don’t start”. soobin nudged. yeonjun ignores him and continues talking to you. 

“how you doing? i’m choi yeonjun. i don’t think we’ve met”. 

“choi? you’re related to soobin?”. you ask. 

“in some way, yeah”. 

“interesting”. you say nonchalantly, grabbing the rest of your things and closing your locker. you didn’t want him to think you cared about anything he had to say. 

yeonjun slides his arm up the locker beside yours, 

“so yeah whenever soobin is acting like a bitch, you can call me”. yeonjun joked, winking for good measure. soobin shoves him into the opposite direction and yeonjun laughs in return. 

“stop fucking playing around you idiot”. soobin scowled with his hand on your lower back, ushering you away from him. yeonjun’s watches the both of them go, “remember what I said!”. he shouts after soobin. and soobin heard him loud and clear, he just didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“how was your classes today?”. soobin begins while you both were now settled in his car. it was kind of second nature at this point, you going with soobin after school. 

“they were okay, I’m tired of hearing about the same information. are you going to your classes nowdays?”.

“yeah i’ve started. i thought it was pretty stupid to study for exams and not go to class”.

choi soobin? going to class? it had to be some type of miracle. 

you were fixing your ponytail,

“so? my house or your house today for studying?”. you question. now driving soobin answers, 

“let’s go get some food. how about a coffee shop?”. 

actually, a coffee shop didn’t sound too bad. it gave you both a break from being enclosed in your homes. you nod in agreement. while driving though you couldn’t help but to start up a little conversation.

“so? where did choi yeonjun come from?”. 

“he’s this kid that was brought to my house by my dumb ass friends. I hated him at first”. 

“why?”.

“because he was talking back to me”.

you laughed. 

“talking back?”.

“i was shit talking him and he was shit talking back. that was a first for me”.

“god forbid no one is scared of you, soobin”. 

soobin laughs, “yeah i thought it was pretty cool to be feared. but when yeonjun was talking back I kind of realized I like a person that knows how to defend themself. so then I started liking him”. 

“you can date him instead of me you know”. you tease. soobin deadpans you for a brief second before putting his eyes back on the road. 

“it’s not even like that”. 

“oh so it’s complicated?”. you tease again and soobin laughs, you could tell that this time he wanted to murder you. the both of you arrive at a small cafe shop on the corner of two of the biggest streets in town. you were sure to bring your backpack inside with you, you hoped you could get a lot done even if you were with soobin this time. 

he pulls your chair out for you and you thank him whilst taking your seat. he sits across from you. he was pretty satisfied with the size of the table, you guys needed just as much space as you could get. 

your eyes grazed the menu at the endless flavors of coffee the shop sold. some sounded just pure weird and some sounded delicious. “have you ever been here before?”. soobin questions. you shake your head no. “I forgot this town even had coffee shops”. you admit. 

“welcome! what can I start you guys with today?”. the waitress asked. soobin orders a hawaiian salted caramel coffee which sounded amazing, but not as amazing as the one you had in mind. you decided to order the s’mores flavored coffee. 

“so did you hear?”. you prompt. “no, what is it?”. 

“the school is hosting an incentive for the seniors who ace their exams this year”. 

“what is it going to be?”. 

“I’m not sure but I’m kind of excited. I know most seniors didn’t pass their exams last year so i’m motivated. that’s probably what the school is trying to do anyways, motivate us”.

“that is kind of motivating. but we go to a catholic school so for all we know our incentive can be an extra church service”. 

you laugh. 

“i’ll die”. 

“excuse me choi soobin?”. voices blare behind him. you’d saw the two officers walk in but you thought they were going to a table, not targeting soobin. your eyes widen. soobin turns around, stunned once he found out who was searching for him. 

“yes?”. 

one of the officers beckon his hand upwards, signaling that he wanted soobin to stand up. soobin does so. 

“you’ll be coming with us for now”. the other officer spoke pulling out his handcuffs. you gasp. soobin was at a lost for words. he pulled his hand away. 

“wait just let me--”. he fishes for his wallet and gives you some cash. “i’ll be fine princess. don’t worry. eat well”. 

the officers take the both of his wrists and cuffs them tightly. soobin didn’t really know if he’d be fine. truth be told he was scared out of his mind. and truth be told you were more than scared out of yours. 

#choi soobin #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #choi soobin au #txt #txt au