#ANYWAY BYE I GUESS SEE YOU ALL IN LIKE SIXTEEN HOURS WHEN I GO ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WIL

[shesmore-shoebill]

truly im SO chill about this video

[chloekwon-moved]

HOPES !

SUMMARY :: In which Chloe gets her hopes up. CHARACTERS :: Chloe Kwon, Kim Sunwoo, Han Jisung WORDS :: 2.2K WARNINGS ::  drinking, drunk characters, anxiety, implied sexual content ( if i missed anything let me know ! )

Chloe knew she was hopeless romantic and maybe just a bit too optimistic, but she couldn’t help the fact that she wanted to see the best in everything and everyone. It had gotten her into trouble in the past, the whole situation with her father making her just a bit wary of anyone for a while, but she couldn’t help the way that she trusted far too easily. She was always the one to fall too fast and too hard in her relationships and she just found it better to steer clear from them most of the time, it got her in far less trouble. That was until she met Sunwoo.

Chloe and Sunwoo had known each other by proxy for a little over a year before they actually became close to one another, Kevin and Felix being big reasons for that. They had seen each other at quite a few hang outs between fellow 2000-liners and had even greeted each other backstage when Chloe would sneak back into music shows to watch any of her friends performing. They were never close, but fate had seemed to keep them at arm's length from each other.

It wasn’t until Kevin invited Chloe over for a ‘friendly gathering’ as he called it, though that was really just an excuse for them to throw a rager celebrating their first win. Chloe wasn’t one to refuse a party, and she definitely wouldn’t say no when most of her friends were already invited anyway. 

The party wasn’t anything special, just a normal house party that Chloe had really only seen on TV before her hiatus, though she definitely wasn’t going to be giving up the chance at free booze, especially in a place she knew there would be no prying cameras around for once. The party lasted for what felt like hours and Chloe knew she was going to wake up with a massive hangover the next day and she didn’t realize the need to call it quits until she watched Chan try ITZY’s debut choreography, while being absolutely plastered. On any normal night, Chloe would have stayed and laughed with the rest of the crowd, but she could feel herself being sentimental and she knew she needed to get out. She put on the best fake smile she could manage (something that she had gotten incredibly good as since her hiatus had started) and pushed her way through the crowd, feeling a pair of eyes on her as she walked away, though she refused to look back to see who’s prying eyes they were.

She wandered around the dorm, hoping to find one of the bathrooms, which was always much easier to find in a sober state and while she was trying to keep her mind off of the many thoughts whirling in her mind. Chloe couldn’t stop herself from wondering about the what-ifs all the time, what if she hadn’t been a solo artist and she had actually debuted in a group like she had originally planned? She misses the bond that she shared with her close friends when they were trainees, the late night talks of them wondering if they would be able to stand on that stage together one day. Chloe wasn’t dumb, she knew there was no chance she would debut in TWICE when she was part of Sixteen, but she thought the promotions were about the group that would be formed after, not for her solo debut. Part of her always wondered if she had just been the one that they saved and kept for ITZY if she would be in the situation she was in now. Would her father still have tried to reach out? Maybe it would have happened, but it wouldn't have been when she was so young and impressionable where it left a mark on her that she can’t seem to shake, a mark that makes her scared of even stepping on stage again.

Chloe wasn’t sure how long she had been standing in the hallway, how long she had been lost in her own thoughts, when a hand came out and rested on her shoulder, making her jump slightly. She whipped her head around to see a concerned looking Sunwoo staring back at her. He said nothing, instead just pulled her into one of the rooms in the dorm, effectively cutting off a lot of the sound coming from outside, letting Chloe’s head finally clear just a bit.

“Are you okay?” he questioned lightly, keeping a good bit of distance between the two of them. Even from Chloe’s intoxicated state, she could tell that the boy was nowhere near sober with the way he was swaying slightly as he watched her. “Jisung saw you leave and he seemed worried.”

“I’m fine,” Chloe smiled. “The music just got a bit too much for me for a second there.”

Sunwoo nodded, but Chloe could tell that he wasn’t convinced, not in the slightest. “Do you want to talk about it?” he leaned forward slightly and smiled a bright, drunk smile. “I hear talking things out with an unbiased third party is a pretty good option.”

Chloe looked at him for a long, hard minute, trying to figure out if the boy was serious or not. She rolled her eyes and thought fuck it, the boy was probably drunk enough where he wouldn’t rememebr it in the morning anyway, and started spilling. She told him about everything involving her father and how she was so scared to step on stage again, maybe it was because she was out of practice, or maybe it’s because the last time she stepped on stage was what led her father to her, but she can never be too sure. She talked and talked about things that she was even too scared to tell her own mother or any of her closest friends and Chloe found out that for a drunk guy, Sunwoo was surprisingly good at listening. She also found out that it was nice to finally let it all out.

Sunwoo let her talk, only interjecting whenever he felt fit and even started to talk about his own problems and Chloe sat there and listened intently, happy to listen and even help if that’s what he wanted. Though Chloe found out quite quickly that Sunwoo liked to rant, let out his feelings without the thought of actually having to fix them.

The two stayed in the small cramped room, and honestly, Chloe wasn’t sure who’s room it was at this point, talking for hours. Somewhere along the way they dropped the rants and it turned into just funny stories about their childhood. Chloe was in the middle of the one time her mom had tried to bake a cake for her birthday, almost setting their small apartment on fire in the process, when Chan burst through the door, a concerned look on his face.

“Chloe! There you are!” he sighed, a bright smile that would have made fifteen year old Chloe swoon, adoring his face. “We’re about to head out, you wanna walk about with us?”

Chloe looked back at Sunwoo once more, seeing the boy look about ready to fall asleep sitting up, before turning back to Chan and getting up to her feet. “I guess so, Yerim would kill me if I stayed out too much longer.”

Chan nodded lightly, knowing the wrath of Chloe’s manager first hand when she stayed out at the studio far too late trying to keep Chan company as he stressed over songs for one of their comebacks. After that night, Chan was quick to pull the plug on things before it got too late.

“Bye Sunwoo,” she waved back at the other boy, smiling brightly. “See you later.”

Sunwoo nodded and pulled himself up to a bed that Chloe could only assume was his own as the other two made their way out the door. Chloe couldn’t stop the bright smile on her face and the small bit of butterflies in her stomach as she made her way back to her dorm, ignoring the strange glances from some of the other boys she was walking with.

Chloe’s not sure when their relationship went from casual talks and letting off steam  by ranting about their lives, to whatever they have now, but she’s not sure she’s complaining about it. Chloe knows what happened to turn them into this, getting a little bit too drunk one night, while talking about how hard it was to meet anyone as an idol (Chloe’s dating ban had just lifted and she was a bit frustrated), led to the slightly younger boy leaning in and placing his lips against hers. Chloe knew how it happened, but she’s not sure when it went from just friends to something more, when it went from one kiss to much, much more than that. All Chloe knew is that she was in far too deep and she wanted far more in this relationship than what she could only assume Sunwoo did.

There were times that Chloe was sure Sunwoo wanted the same thing as her. The late night chats, where Sunwoo would look at her like she was the only girl in the world. The sweet words he would whisper to her when they would fall into bed together. The times that he would initiate the two of them hanging out with each other. Those times everything felt so, so real and Chloe could feel her hopes rising with each smile from the slightly younger boy.

Chloe felt her hopes soar when Sunwoo offered to come and watch her comeback stage, saying he wanted to come and support two of his friends. Chloe never really asked her friends to come and support her stages, only a handful of them coming to visit in the years she had been in the industry, so to say that Chloe was excited to see Sunwoo sitting in the waiting room with her and Jisung, would be an understatement. 

“Chloe we have to head down,” Jisung’s voice rang through the room, causing Chloe’s eyes to finally move away from where they were trained on Sunwoo’s position as he played some game on his phone. Jisung had been uncharacteristically quiet today, rather than any of the days they had been recording and practicing for this comeback, Chloe just figured that he was nervous for recording without the rest of Stray Kids.

The older girl nodded, standing from her position, smoothing down the front of her dress as she made her way across the room.

“Good luck!” Sunwoo yelled out, smiling brightly, only causing the older to smile back at him as she made her way out the door.

The two walked quietly, all of Chloe’s backup dancers going up ahead of the two since they needed some final touch ups done on their makeup. “You nervous?” Chloe spoke up in the almost awkward silence that never seemed to fall over them before.

“Huh?”

“You just seem kind of out of it today, I thought you might be nervous,” Chloe shrugged.

“I mean I guess, don’t you get nervous before you perform?” he questioned, hitting his microphone against his hand.

“Not really,” she answered with a small shrug. “Only like big performances, I guess.”

“Shouldn’t every performance be a big performance?” Jisung questioned, tilting his head slightly. The thought made Chloe stop in her tracks, thinking it over just a bit longer. Jisung noticed her stop walking and turned to shoot her a questioning look.

“I guess so,” she smiled back at him, walking forward and grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hallway so they wouldn’t be late.

Coming down from the high she got from being on stage always took a few minutes. The performance had gone well, fantastic even, and it always was a rush to have a near perfect performance. Chloe had wasted no time pulling Jisung into a tight hug after the performance and Chloe wasn’t even sure if the camera had finished rolling or not (it hadn’t). 

They walked back to the waiting room all smiles and Chloe couldn't wait to see what Sunwoo had thought of the performance. Everyone was loud and excited, the feeling of a perfect start to the era lifting everyone’s mood.

The smile didn’t fall off of Chloe’s face until she saw Sunwoo exiting one of the many bathrooms in the building, a familiar head of deep green hair following suit. She could feel her heart fall into her stomach as she watched the two walk away from each other, not paying the large group of people just down the hallway from them, Sunwoo slipping out of sight and into Chloe’s waiting room.

Chloe felt a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it soothingly in an almost conforming manner, though she couldn’t find it in herself to be soothed by it. She could feel her heart breaking, cursing herself for getting her hopes up when she knew nothing was going to happen between them.

[onceuponastory]

Coming Back Home Chapter Two: I Am A Heart

“I am a heart that’s hard to pin, You are an arrow sticking in” - hey ocean!: i am a heart 

Read Chapter One: Hometown here!

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable…until her sister asks her to show Nick around town…a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? Important: This story is based on a prompt by @orphicodysseywrites​. It’s a mix of prompts one and two from this post, so full credit for this idea goes to them! Warnings: There’s a few mentions of death in this chapter. If you’re sensitive to it and don’t want to read this chapter because of it, I totally understand <3 A/N: This is a very long chapter, almost 2,500 words long, so I hope you all enjoy it, lmao. As always, this chapter has been checked for errors, but if you see any pls do let me know. I’m going to be inactive this coming week, because I’m taking a little staycation to a place with very limited wifi, so if you send me a message/request, it might take me a while to respond. But I will respond ASAP! I will also be trying to work on chapter three/other stuff whilst I’m away, but I REALLY need this break, so pls don’t get mad if I don’t write anything.

Again, special thanks goes to my best friend Jo, aka @thesundrop​, who made this banner, and helped so much with planning this fic. Some of you may know her as @staticscreenwriting​, where she writes Billy fics. Check them out, they’re amazing!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Nick or his character! I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Again, aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all go see the movie if you can, because it’s adorable!

Adjusting my hair and outfit in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time, I sigh. “You look fine, stop adjusting your outfit...” I tell myself. “Nick’s not going to care how you look....right?” God, I’m a mess. Putting on yet more lipgloss, Jane’s voice echoes in my mind. 

“Both of you look so much like your mother. Especially you Y/N.” She was right, I did. Not that I had many memories of how my mother looked when she was still alive, but hours spent leafing through stacks of photo albums with my Nana and Katie when we were younger had made me more familiar with her and how she looked. She was gorgeous. I wish we had more time with her. If we had, our lives would be very different...and I would never have come to this town in the first place. Suddenly, I feel stinging sensation at my eyes. Aaaaand I’m crying. Great. Just what I fucking needed. A knock sounds at my door. 

“Y/N? Are you alright? You’ve been up here a while.” Nick’s voice sounds through the door. No, THIS is just what I fucking needed. Shit. Now he’s going to think I’m a total emotional weirdo who doesn’t want to spend time with him. Not that that was a TOTAL lie, I did want to spend time with him....just anywhere but here. Oh, he’s going to hate me. “If you’re not feeling well or something’s come up, we could do this another time?” Nick continues, and I sigh again. He’s so sweet. I can’t let him down. Quickly trying to stop the tears from falling, I open the door, and Nick smiles. “Hi. You look great.” I immediately blush.

“Thanks...Oh! So do you!” I gasp, trying not to seem awkward.

“Thank you.” Nick chuckles. He looks at me closer, and his eyebrows furrow together. “Are you okay? Have you been crying?” He asks. 

“Uh, no! It’s just...allergies.” I lie. “The dust in this house is terrible. So...shall we head out?” I ask, and Nick nods. The two of us walk downstairs.

“Byeeee you two! Have fun!” Katie’s voice calls from the living room. Oh, I’m sure I will. 

“So, what do you wanna do?” Nick asks as the two of us leave the house. 

“I don’t mind. I mean, we could go to the park, or for a coffee....or just, a walk in the woods?” I suggest. “Actually, maybe not the woods. There may be an axe murderer, or the big bad wolf or something.” I immediately cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth, and Nick laughs. Oh god, he’s laughing at me and how cringy I am.

“I mean, I didn’t personally think of that, but that’s a valid concern. I think we should take the park then.” He says, and I nod. “This way?” He points towards the town, and I nod. He sets off, leaving me standing there. 

Well, that went better than expected. Oh right, I better go catch up with him. 

“So, how long did you two live here?” Nick asks as we both walk closer into town. 

“Um, about...sixteen years.” I work out the maths in my head. “We moved here when I was four, and Katie was two. We both left to go to college.”

“Oh! I thought this was where you guys were born.”

“Nooo, we just call it our hometown cause we’ve lived here from such a young age. At this point, it feels like our hometown. We’re actually from New York City, and we both moved back there for college. I live there full time now. Katie’s in New Jersey.” I explain.

“Oh, what a coincidence! I live in New York too.” Nick smiles. “Small world, right?” I nod. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, why did your parents pick here to move? This place is nice and all, but it’s a lot different than New York.” He asks. A memory flashes through my mind. 

“What the hell do you expect me to do? I can’t look after them! This shithole is the best option, and you know it.” I shudder, hoping Nick doesn’t notice. 

“Um....just personal circumstances really. Our Dad wanted a change of pace and scenery for us. He thought the city was too busy for us to grow up in.” Nick nods, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted. I look up at the sky and see the leaves on the trees. Some were bright orange, whilst others were red. I sigh happily. “You gotta hand it to my sister, she picked one of the most beautiful times of year to get married.” 

“Yeah, beautiful.” Nick mumbles, and I look back over at him to see him looking at me. 

“What?” His eyes go wide.

“Nothing! Just agreeing with you!” He gasps, before continuing to walk. Okay, that was weird. I shrug it off and follow him down the street. After a while, we reach the park and begin to walk around together. The two of us are silent as we take in the scenery around us. The leaves crunch under our feet. I was right, this time of year really was beautiful. The cold wind blows, and I shiver. “Want my jacket?” Nick asks. 

“No thanks, I’m okay.” I smile. But come on, giving a girl his jacket? That’s so cliché...and so damn cute.

“Want to go on the swings? That might warm you up a bit.” He suggests. Another memory enters my mind.

“When’s he coming back?” I ask, tugging on her skirt. “I miss him.

“...Soon, sweetheart. He’ll be back soon. Why don’t you go and play on the swings and I’ll come over and give you a push in a minute?” She suggests, and I nod vigorously.

“Okay! See you in a minute!” I call, running towards the swings.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go on the swings.”

~~~

A few hours later, Nick and I were in the local coffee shop, chatting about everything from our interests to our time at college. “So when do you want to practise our big dance number?” Nick asks, taking a sip of his coffee. I sigh.

“Oh right, I forgot we’re meant to plan that at some point.” Nick chuckles. “So, what song do you want to pick?” Nick shrugs.

“It’s up to you, I’m okay with whatever.” I raise an eyebrow.

“Really? I don’t think Katie would be happy if we picked something like Baby Got Back to dance to.” Nick bursts out laughing. 

“You’re right. But it would be funny. Any suggestions?” I shake my head.

“I mean there’s so many...maybe something slow? Or something more upbeat?”

“Well we have some time, so why don’t we each make a list and pick one?” He offers. I nod. “You know, I had a really nice time today...” Nick begins. I smile.

“Me too.” And I actually meant it. Despite how much I was dreading this, it went better than I expected. My phone rings, and I take it out of my bag. “Hey, Katie...Yes, I know...Okay, I’ll be back soon. Bye.” I hang up. 

“Everything alright?” Nick asks.

“Sorry, turns out I’m urgently needed for some maid of honour duties, so I gotta go. Are you okay here, or do you wanna walk back to the house with me?” Nick waves me off.

“No, don’t worry, you go on. I need to take care of something in town anyways. See you later.”

“Bye, Nick.” I leave the coffee shop, and start the walk back to the house, almost feeling a spring was in my step. For the first time since being back here, I was happy. I was comfortable. And it was all thanks to Nick. I soon reach Nana’s house and walk inside. “Helloooo!” I call.

“Well, someone sounds happy.” Katie’s voice sounds from the living room. She comes out to greet me. “Oh. My. God. Look at the smile on your face!” She gasps. 

“I had a great time with Nick today.” I explain.

“I can see that. Guess my big sister has the hots for the best man, huh?” She teases. My eyes widen.

“No, I don’t!” My cheeks flush. 

“Mhm sure. Deny it all you want, I can tell. Anyway, come on you, we need to make the centrepieces.” I wasn’t in love with Nick. I may love spending time with him, but I absolutely was NOT in love with him.

~~~

That Night

"We are here today to honour the life of Rose L/N.” The priest begins. “She was a light in the lives of many, especially her two granddaughters, Y/N and Katie, who she is survived by. For most of their lives, she was also their guardian.” 

“He’s not here.” Katie whispers in my ear. I discretely roll my eyes.

“Of course he isn’t. He stopped caring a long time ago.” I reply. I find her hand beside mine and give it a squeeze. “We have to be strong together now, like she said. It’s just us now.”

My eyes open, and I look around the room for a moment to get my bearings. I’m still in my childhood bedroom. It was just a dream. A dream featuring our past. A past I had tried to run from. Of course, it found a way to find me again. It has a funny way of doing that. My eyes drift over to the bedside table, displaying a picture of Katie and I with our Nana from many years ago. I smile softly and run my fingers over the image. “I miss you, Nana. I wish you were still here. To guide me...to guide us.” Laying back on my pillows, I sigh and hold the picture close. “Maybe if you were still here, I wouldn’t be such a mess.”

~~~

One Week Later - Fifteen Days Until the Wedding

“I’m just saying, Cinderella continues to be the best live-action Disney adaptation. It’s faithful to the story, the costumes are great, and it’s just so cute!” I exclaim, trying to stifle a yawn in the process. I was still having nightmares and barely sleeping. Thankfully, I was managing to hide it well, and nobody suspected anything. If they did, I could just lie and say I was up late working on bachelorette party plans and lost track of time. Nick laughs. “What?”

“I love that this is what you’re passionate about.” He grins.

“Well, I’m absolutely right.” I tell him, and he nods.

“Oh, absolutely.” I had a feeling that he had no idea what I was talking about, which was usually the case. But he agreed with me anyway, which I appreciated. Despite all my nightmares and bad memories, spending almost every day with Nick was helping me feel happier, and far more comfortable. It also took my mind off of my nightmares from the previous night. Nick was lovely, and I actually felt upset whenever we had to go back to the house. The fact he was gorgeous helped too, of course. Before I can say anything else, I suddenly spot the town’s bakery and walk over to the window. 

“Look at all these cakes.” I smile. “Oh my god, those cupcakes still look delicious.” I state, staring through the window at them. “My Nana used to bring Katie and me here every Friday after school, and we’d each get a cupcake. I always chose the birthday cake ones, cause it felt like we had a birthday celebration every week.” I smile fondly. “It’s one of my favourite memories of her.”

“Do you want one?” Nick asks, causing me to look over at him. “Seriously, do you want one?” He repeats, taking out his wallet. “They do look amazing. And after all, today is Friday. Can’t waste traditions.” He smiles, and his smile almost makes my heart do backflips.

“Seriously?” I ask.

“Seriously.” Nick opens the door of the bakery. I hear the wind-chimes over the door sound as we both walk in, just like they did all those years ago. The smell of baking is everywhere, filling me with a sense of comfort.

“Oh god, I remember this smell. It’s so...familiar.” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes. In that moment, I feel like I’m a little kid spending time with my Nana again. But when I open my eyes, I’m back to my real life, and the nostalgia is gone.

“I’m coming, just give me a few minutes!” Someone calls from through the back of the bakery.

“Opal?” I ask. Opal was the owner of the bakery...at least when I still lived in Saint Chase. Like Jane, she was friendly and welcoming, and every customer was her friend. She always used to sneak Katie and I samples of her new loaves of bread and cakes before we went to school in the mornings. If we liked them, they stayed. She always called us her honorary business partners. Of course, now I know she probably said that to every kid who wandered in, but it made kid me feel great.

“That’s my name, don’t wear- oh!” She gasps, immediately retreating back through the door she came from. Nick and I give each other a confused look. Rose returns a few moments later, carrying a small cake.“Katie! You look so different from the last time I saw you. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding!” She grasps my hand and shakes it vigorously, then does the same to Nick’s hand. “Want to see a preview of the cake? This is in no way finished, but it’s just a small sample of the real thing.”

“Oh no, I-”

 “We’re not-” Nick and I begin, but Opal ignores us. 

"You two are going to just love it.”

“Opal! I’m not Katie!” I insist. She gasps, and her eyes go wide. “Katie is my sister. This is Nick. He’s the best man.”

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.” Her face goes red. Nick and I reassure her that it’s okay. “Anyway, what can I get you?” Nick and I order our cupcakes, and she rings them up for us. Nick opens his wallet to pay for them, but Opal shakes her head. “No, please, these are on me. Count it as an apology...Seriously. I’m so sorry about the mixup.”

“Well, thank you!″ Nick smiles, taking the cakes and walking towards the door. 

“Y/N...” Opal beckons me in closer, and I lean in. “I just have to say, you two are adorable together. I’m still sorry for my mistake, but honestly, you two look like a great couple.”

“We’re not-”

“Everything okay?” Nick asks.

“Oh! Yeah. Opal just wanted to ask me when we’re picking up the wedding cake.” I lie, giving Opal a pointed look. She nods vigorously. “Come on, let’s go. Bye Opal.” I say quickly, walking towards the door. She waves goodbye to us as we leave the store. Once we’re outside, Nick passes over my cake, taking a bite of his. 

“Oh. My. God.” He moans happily. “That’s incredible.” 

“Right?” I agree, taking a bite of mine. “It’s just as good as I remember.” Nick starts laughing at me again, and my eyes widen. “What? Did I say something weird?”

“You have icing on your face.” He responds. Of course I do. I’m a walking cliché, honestly. “Actually, you know what? I don’t care. This cake is that good.” I take another bite. “And besides, so do you.”

~~~

Later That Day

“That one looks like a dog.”

“A dog? No way. It looks like a hamster.”

“How the fuck does it look like a hamster?” Nick frowns.

“How the fuck does it look like a dog?” I respond, raising my eyebrow. Nick laughs. The two of us had finished eating our cupcakes (and wiped our faces), and were back in the park, drinking coffee and trying to see if we could tell what shape the clouds were.

“Guess we gotta agree to disagree.” I smile. “Even though I’m totally right.”

“Of course you are.” He says sarcastically, and I gasp in mock annoyance. But I don’t detect any malice from his comment...well, I hoped he wasn’t actually annoyed with me or anything, but he didn’t seem to be. Like I said before, I felt comfortable with Nick. Even though we had met a week ago, it felt like the two of us could joke with each other to our hearts content, neither meaning anything bad by it. It was weird how close we were, despite not knowing each other for that long.  “Uh, Nick?” I ask, looking up again.

“Mhm?”

“Do those ones look like rain clouds, or is that just me?”

“I think you’re right, it’s-” The heavens open before he can even finish his sentence. “Oh god, okay, come on, I saw a bike shed or something over there, we can hide out there until it stops.” Nick tells me, quickly taking his jacket off and throwing it at me.

“What’s this for?!” I ask.

“What do you think it’s for?! It’s to hold over our heads!” Nick shouts. “Now come on, let’s go.” He holds out his hand, and I take it. He pulls me up. “Ready to run?” He asks. I nod. The two of us begin running through the park, holding Nick’s jacket over our heads with one hand each. We laugh as we run, trying to avoid slipping on the damp leaves or falling over. We soon reach the shelter, and Nick and I jump under it. The shelter is small, so our bodies are pressed up close against each other. I’m aware of the scent of his cologne again. Nick’s body is warm against mine as he wraps the jacket around my shoulders. 

“You don’t have to give me your jacket.” I protest, but he insists.

“Don’t be silly. What would your sister say if I made her maid of honour catch a cold?” He asks.

“The same thing she’d say if the best man caught a cold.” I reply, trying to take the jacket off. Nick reaches out, gently placing his hands on my arms, stopping me. It feels like electricity runs up my arms as he touches them.

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. Honestly.” The two of us stand there, Nick still holding onto my arms. But it feels good. It feels...right. Nick keeps looking at me. 

“Do I still have some icing on my lips?” I ask. Nick shakes his head. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles loud enough for me to hear. Whether I was supposed to hear it or not, I wasn’t sure. Nick leans closer to me, and my brain immediately goes:

“He’s going to kiss me. Oh my god, he’s going to kiss me. Do I even want him to kiss me?” And I realise that...I think I do want him to kiss me. Nick’s head moves closer to mine, and my head rises up to meet his. But just as our lips are about to touch, my phone rings, causing us to break apart. Dammit. I take my phone out, seeing Katie’s name flash on the screen. She always has the best timing. “Hey Katie. What’s up? ...Yeah it’s raining really badly. Yeah, a lift back would be great. We’re at the park. Okay, see you soon. Love you too. Bye.” Hanging up, I sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Nick responds. However, despite him saying that, it still felt like the air around us had changed. It wasn’t like we could go back to where we left off either, because everything felt awkward now.

Shit.

~~~

That Night

“Be good for your Daddy, okay Y/N?” She bends down and presses a kiss to my forehead. I nod. “I know I can trust you to help him look after your sister, right?”

“Of course, Mommy!” She grins, and pulls me in for a tight squeeze.

“There’s my smart girl.  I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I nod again.

“Have fun, Mommy!” I call, as she walks out of the door. And then, she was gone. The image changes into something else. “Daddy? Where’s Mommy? Why are you crying?” He blinks rapidly and bends down to my eye level.

“Mommy’s had to go, sweetie.” He explains.

“But...but where? She was meant to take me to kindergarten!” He looks away from me.

“I’m sorry. Your mommy’s an angel...she’s not coming back.”

Gasping, I sit up in bed again, looking around the room. My heart is racing. “It’s just a bad dream...Just a bad dream...” I tell myself, trying desperately to calm myself down. Getting out of bed, I cross over to the window, trying to ignore my shaking hands, and peek out at the night sky. Rows and rows of trees disappear into the darkness. “It’s not real. She died almost twenty years ago. It’s just a bad dream.” Clenching my fists, I furiously wipe at my eyes. "Dammit!” I curse.

I hadn’t had nightmares about the death of our mother in at least fifteen years. I thought I was finally getting better. Of course, life had other ideas. “I knew I should never have fucking come back here.” I hiss. That’s why still had bad dreams, because I was back here. I should’ve said no and ran when I had the choice. No, no, that’s stupid. Of course I couldn’t have said no. I could never let Katie down. God knows life let us down enough times already. No, I need to stop blaming the town for my problems. It’s my fault. I thought I was ready and healed, but obviously, I’m not. God, I need a drink. 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I leave my room and tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen, using my phone torch as a light source. Once I reach the kitchen and flash my light into the room, I almost jump out of my skin when I see a figure sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey, I- Y/N?” Nick blinks his eyes, clearly startled by the bright light of my phone.

“Jesus Christ Nick! I thought you were a fucking murderer!” I gasp. He frowns.

“A murderer...who sits at the kitchen table? Anyway, why are you up so late? It’s like 2am!” I switch the light on. 

“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you here scaring the life out of me at 2am?” He holds up some paper. 

“Best man’s speech. I had a stroke of genius and decided to write some of it.”

“In the middle of the night? In the darkness? And people say I’m weird.” Nick chuckles. I cross over to the cupboards and get out some mugs to make tea. “Want some tea?” I ask, and he nods.

“Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What brings you here at this hour?”

“Oh I just love hanging out with men in kitchens at 2am, didn’t Katie tell you?” I tease, filling the kettle and putting it on to boil. Nick laughs. I can’t tell him the truth. Then he would think I was weird. “But seriously. Couldn’t sleep.” I mean, that wasn’t a total lie. Nick didn’t have to know the truth. “How’s the speech going?”

“Ehhh?” Nick responds. I turn back to him and raise an eyebrow. “Not well.”

“I can tell.” The kettle finishes boiling, and I pour the water into the mugs. “But I’m here now, so you have an extra person to help you.”

~~~

One Hour Later

“Y/N...Y/N?” I hear someone whispering. Is someone....nudging me? I look up. Why was my head on the table? I notice that Nick has scooted closer to me. Is he the one nudging me?

“Mmm, Nick...whashappenin?” I mumble. 

“You fell asleep.” He explains. I shoot up in my seat and rub my eyes. 

“What?!” I gasp. “Why didn’t you wake me up?! I was meant to be helping you with your speech!” 

“It’s alright, don’t worry.” Nick reassures me. “You looked really tired, so I thought I’d let you sleep. You sure you’re okay?” He asks. Before I can say anything in response, I yawn. “Guess that answers my question. I think you should go to bed.” I shake my head.

“Nope. I’m not....” I cut myself off with another yawn. Nick gives me a look. “...Okay, maybe I’m a little bit tired.” I admit.

“Mhm. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He helps me up. I protest, but he continues to do so. “Y/N, trust me. You need some sleep. You’ll thank me later.” I realise he’s probably right. So, I let him lead me upstairs and into my bedroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. “So uh....can you take care of yourself from here?” He asks. I chuckle softly and nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks Nick.” I smile. “Goodnight.”

“Night Y/N.” 

~~~

The Next Morning - Thirteen Days Until the Wedding

“You invited Great Aunt Hilda? Seriously? All she’s going to do is talk about her cats.” 

“That’s why she’s sitting with you. At least you’ll have something in common.” Katie jokes. I jokingly punch her in the arm. “Hey!” She laughs. The two of us were spending the day arranging seating charts and finalising the seating plan. So far, it was all going well, and we managed to make it fun. “Oh, god.” Katie wrinkles her nose. “I forgot both Uncle Chris and Aunt Pamela said yes, AND they’re bringing plus ones. That’s gonna be rough.”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay. Didn’t they get divorced like three years ago?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Aunt Pam’s gonna be a fan of his plus one....” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh right, he dumped her for his secretary, the one with the big boobs, didn’t he? Are they still together?”

“Yuuuup. She’s the plus one.”

“Better sit those two as far away from each other as possible then...” I mumble, trying to arrange the tables on my side of the chart as best as I can. Studying the rest of the little figures representing people, I frown, seeing one I haven’t seen before. One I definitely did not expect to see. I pick it up, and my eyes go wide. “Uh, Katie?”

“Mhm?”

“...Why does our Dad have a seating place?”

[spn-safeandsound]

12. Long Distance

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x17; Hell House

Word Count: 7,182

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sisterly antics

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Julia anxiously watched the printer in Beth and Taylor's study, her lips quirking into a smile as the professional cursive was inked onto the expensive paper that Beth insist she get for her diploma. She had finally graduated from Stanford and, although she didn't get to attend graduation, she was very proud of herself. Her double major in Religion and Linguistics had been received simply because she was too meticulous and stubborn to let her education go waste.

But now that education was over and she couldn't lie and say she wasn't happy about it.  Sixteen years in school was a long time—even though she went two years less than other people she graduated with—and she was glad that part of her life was over. She just wished that her mom and Levi were still here to witness this. Still, she knew they were watching up in Heaven and that was the best she was going to get.

Once the printer spit out her diploma, she carefully set it on Beth's desk so the ink could dry without any smudges. She was just taking a seat in the desk chair where her open laptop was sitting so she could continue working on the case she found for Sam and Dean down in Texas when her cellphone rang.

She wasn't surprised that it was Dean; he had been calling her every couple of hours to check up on her. He wasn't happy that she didn't want to hit the road just yet after Levi's death but he understood and was supportive anyway. He just made sure she knew that he and Sam would check up on her and the rest of the Petersen family. That was sweet and everything and Julia appreciated how supportive the Winchester brothers were being but sometimes there was such a thing as too many calls. She couldn't believe that Dean accused her of talking too much.

Beth and Abby thought it was the cutest thing ever when she'd have to leave the room to talk to Sam and Dean—though it was mostly Dean as she and Sam communicated through a text thread—and not return for a half-hour. Beth and Abby weren't the ones who had to assure a very worried Dean every couple of minutes that they were safe and feeling a little bit better. Usually Julia was the mother-hen but, apparently, in her absence, Dean took up the title.

Julia sighed and flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes, glad that he couldn't see the obvious look on her face. "What's up?"

"Well, Sam just woke up with a spoon in his mouth," Dean chuckled, sounding satisfied with himself. "and I took a picture to send to you."

"Yeah, it's real funny, Dean," Sam grumbled.

Julia shook her head in amusement; Sam and Dean's prank wars were always a hit with Dean, even if Sam didn't enjoy them as much as his older brother.

"Where are you guys?"

"A few hours outside of Richardson," Dean answered her. "Give me the low down on this case you found."

"Okay," Julia pressed the space button on her laptop, waking it up, and clicked on the folder of information she collected. "About two months ago, a group of kids went poking around a local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Sam wondered.

"A misogynistic spirit, I guess. Like we need any more of those in the world," she hummed in disapproval; Sam chuckled in agreement. "Anyway, the legend goes that it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

"Okay, so what happened with this group of kids?" Dean said, getting her back on track.

"They saw a dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?"

"The body was gone by the time the cops got there," Julia clicked on the police report in the file. "The police think that the kids were playing a joke on them."

"Maybe the cops were right," Sam suggested.

"They could be but I've read some of the first-hand accounts from the kids involved," Julia sighed. "They seemed pretty sincere about the whole thing."

Dean sounded skeptical when he spoke next. "And where did you read these accounts, Junior?"

Julia took a beat, glad that he couldn't see the flush rising in her face. "I might have surfed through some local paranormal websites."

"Mmhm," she could hear Dean's disapproval even though he hummed. "and what's it called?"

Julia sighed as she read the website from the file, "Hell hounds lair dot-com," she heard Sam laugh. "Hey, it could be legit!"

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the ass, Julia," Dean sighed.

"Hey, you wanted a case, I delivered," Julia defended herself. "If it's nothing, that's fine, but it doesn't hurt to check it out."

"Especially since we let Dad and Luke take off," Sam backed up Julia.

Julia frowned, still bitter about that. She wasn't mad at Dean and Sam by any means. No, she was angry with her dad. He didn't come when Julia was dying or when Levi actually died but he was fine following John Winchester to Chicago just to see the failed trap the girl who killed Levi set up for them.

It wasn't like his daughters were only a half-hour away, mourning the loss of their older brother or anything. It wasn't like his only son was killed.

"Fine," Dean gave in when he heard Julia's silence. He had been the one to tell her that they saw Luke with their dad and it was heartbreaking to see the expression on her face. He hoped he'd never let her down like Luke did. "We'll check it out. How have you been doing, shortcake?"

"I'm fine," Julia twisted her lips. "I got my diploma today."

"Wait, are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "That's great, J! Congratulations!"

"I'm proud of you, Julia," Dean added sincerely.

"Thanks, guys," Julia's chest swelled with love. She was so glad that Sam and Dean Winchester were in her life.

"Send me a picture."

"I will," she agreed to Sam's request. "Well, I'll let you go—"

"Wait, wait," Dean stopped her from hanging up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Dean..."

"I mean, you can talk to us."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do chick-flick moments?"

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, well..." he changed the subject. "How many times have you watched Dirty Dancing since we left?"

Julia hesitated; Dirty Dancing was her go-to movie to watch whenever she was sad. It was her mother's favorite movie and Julia grew up watching it a lot. She absolutely adored Patrick Swayze, the dancing, the music, and the love story that made up the film. It made her happier.

"Jules?"

"I've watched it every night, okay?" she confessed. "Leave me alone, I'm delicate."

"All right, all right," Dean gave in; Julia could tell that he was worried about her and that was sweet but watching that movie was her coping mechanism and it hadn't let her down so far. "We'll talk later, shortcake. Stay safe."

"I will," she promised. "You guys be safe, too. Love you."

"Love ya, too, J," Sam called. "Bye."

"Bye."

Julia closed her phone and set it down on the desk beside her laptop. She pulled up her internet browser and started doing more research for the case, hoping that any information she pulled would help the brothers out.

-

Dean and Sam walked into the record shop, looking around for the guy that the witnesses said sent them to the house where they saw the dead girl. As they passed by the first table full of records, a worker came out from the back with his hands full of more merchandise to put away.

"Gentlemen, can I help you with anything?" he asked them.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked him politely.

"I am," the worker confirmed as he put a record in place.

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News," Dean told him. "I'm Dean and this is Sam."

"No way," Craig's face lit up. "I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Ah, good for you, Morrison," Dean chuckled as he began to look through the crate of records in front of him. He completely missed the confused look that Craig gave him but Sam noticed and cleared his throat.

"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam smiled at Craig, wishing that Julia was here to get the information out of him—she was much better with the guys than he was.

"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.

Dean nodded, looking up from the records. "That's the one."

"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said avoidantly.

"Why don't you tell us the story."

"Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer named Mordechai Murdoch used to live in this house with his six daughters," Craig told them after a moment of hesitation. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, and he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death, so he attacked them," Craig stated. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung them up, one after the other. And, when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now, they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Dean pressed his lips together; the story Craig was telling sounded just like that. A story. His words were something out of a dramatic novel, not a true story. And what parent would just kill their kids instead of trying to do whatever it took to make sure they lived?

"Where'd you hear all of this?" he asked Craig.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam assumed.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man," Craig shrugged. "You guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again."

Dean shared a look with Sam and then nodded at Craig. "Thanks."

A half-hour later, Sam and Dean were walking through mud to get to the so-called Hell House. It was creepy looking, they had to admit, but not anything less creepy than the things they saw everyday during their job. It was just a little run-down house, not much else.

"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam sighed, his eyes searching the grounds around the house.

"Yeah," Dean agreed as they got closer to the house. "so much for curb appeal."

Sam took a look around the perimeter of the house while Dean pulled out the EMF meter. It whirled like it usually did when there was anything unusual around but the way it started up as soon as he pressed it on, made him think that something was off.

He tapped the device, frustrated, as Sam came back over to him.

"You got something?"

"Yeah, the EMF's no good," Dean looked around, the powerlines above the house catching his eye.

"Why?"

Dean nodded at the power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, that'd do it."

"Come on, let's go."

They entered the house, finding that it was unlocked in its abandoned state. They started in the front room and then moved onto the living room where a fireplace lined with various candles was. The walls were covered in spray paint, a bunch of different symbols that didn't really even go together scattered randomly around the room.

Dean whistled sarcastically. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."

"And after his time, too," Sam muttered, eyeing a symbol of an encircled cross. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of Sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Dean gave Sam a long took, wrinkling his nose. "How do you know that?"

"I listen to Julia when she talks about this kind of stuff," Sam said pointedly, knowing that Dean checked out whenever something that required a little brain power was brought up.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shuddup," he walked across the room, looking at more of the symbols on the walls. He stopped in front of one that looked like an upside-down question mark with two little lines on either side. It looked kind of familiar. "Hey, what about this one? Have you seen this one before?"

Sam studied the symbol and took a picture of it with his phone. "No."

"I have...Somewhere," he couldn't place it, though.

Sam cautiously reached toward the symbol, rubbing it with his fingertips. "It's paint," he studied the slight stain that it left. "Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean sighed and turned away from the symbol. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind but the cops may be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe—"

A loud noise cut off Sam's agreement. The brothers instantly went on alert and followed the noise to a door that led to another room. They stood on either side of it; when Sam nodded, Dean whipped open the door and stepped into the room.

He was immediately attacked by bright beams of lights right in his eyes and two groans of horror. When the flashlights flitted away, he could see that there were two guys in front of them, around his age with camera gear.

The brunette groaned. "Oh, cut. It's just a couple of humans," he told his companion, who shut the camera off. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here," the ginger guy with the camera drawled. "We're professionals."

"Professional what?"

"Paranormal investigators," the ginger reached into his pocket and pulled out a card to give to them. "Here you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean took the card and read it. He groaned in realization, "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com," Sam read over his shoulder. "You guys run that website?"

Ed, who was the ginger with the camera, nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically as he passed Ed and Harry to check out more of the kitchen.

"And we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.

Dean and Sam turned to face him sharply. "Oh, yeah?"

"Amateurs," as soon as the words were out of Ed's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and turned away once again. "looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

"Yep," the other guy, Harry, agreed. "So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean noticed a gadget that they must have brought with them on the counter; he picked it up to inspect it. "What do you have so far?"

"Harry, why don't you tell them about EMF?" Ed prompted his friend.

Harry hesitated. "Well..."

"EMF?" Sam played dumb and Dean saw that he was trying not to smile.

"Electromagnetic field," Harry told him as though he was an expert. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector," he pulled a EMF reader out of his canvas vest. "Like this bad boy right here."

He turned on the EMF, causing it to whirl angrily. "Woah, woah," he exchanged an excited look with Ed while Dean smirked at Sam. "It's two-point-eight MG."

"Two-point-eight," Ed repeated excitedly. "It's hot in here."

Dean whistled mockingly while Sam tried not to laugh. "Wow."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue. "So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?"

"Once," Ed looked back to where Dean was standing by the counters. "We were, uh, we were investigation this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added needlessly.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it," Ed corrected himself but grew serious again. "And something like that...it, uh, it changes you."

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and walked over to Sam. "We should go, let them get back to work."

"Yeah, you should."

Dean nodded at his brother and then the door. "Sam."

Sam followed him out of the kitchen and they left the house, not wanting to deal with the kids who wanted to enter the big leagues.

-

Julia kneaded the sugar cookie dough on the counter in front of her, humming along to whatever Disney song that the radio that was playing throughout the kitchen. Lizzie was on her side of the island, cutting out cookies with a heart-shaped cookie cutter while Beth and Abby were on the other side, decorating some of the finished cookies with colorful icing.

Once that song was finished, a familiar one started, making her smile.

"Oh, I love this song!" Abby exclaimed while concentrating on the flower cookie she was creating. "Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns!"

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Beth joined in.

Julia sang next. "You're the saddest bunch I ever met but you can bet before we're through..."

"Mister, I'll make a man out of you!" Lizzie finished loudly, making Julia, Beth, and Abby laugh.

They continued singing along to the best song that Mulan produced while making cookies. When Lizzie was finished with the rest of the heart batch, Julia slid the tray into the oven. Once she set the timer, she gave Lizzie the last batch of dough, allowing her to cut out some dinosaurs.

"I'm done with the dinosaurs, Momma!" Lizzie announced once the dough was gone.

"Good job, cutie," Beth smiled. "Why don't you go wash your hands?"

"Okay!" Lizzie climbed off the stool she was standing on and ran out of the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.

"Use soap!" Beth called after her; once she was sure her daughter couldn't overhear her, she turned to Julia. "So..."

Julia pursed her lips, knowing what was coming. Since Dean and Sam left four days before, Beth had been waiting to talk to her about something. She had that look in her eyes where she wanted girl talk and it also occurred every time Dean called her. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Julia sighed and started wiping the excess flour from the counter. "So what?"

Beth smiled coyly and Abby shook her head impatiently. "She wants to know about you and Dean."

"What about me and Dean?"

There was no her and Dean, no matter how much Julia wanted that. She had moments recently when she and Dean spoke—especially when Sam wasn't joining the conversations—where she thought Dean might have the same romantic feelings that she had but she wasn't sure. Dean cared about his family and he considered her and the rest of the Petersen family his family. It wasn't like he was pining after her the same way she was pining after him.

"Oh, stop deflecting, Julia Ruth," Beth scolded her. "There's something going on with you and Dean and I—" Abby cleared her throat and Beth corrected herself, "—we want to know."

Julia scoffed and threw her washcloth into the sink. "There is nothing going on. Trust me."

Beth and Abby exchanged skeptical looks. "But you want there to be, don't you?" Beth guessed; she gasped loudly when she saw Julia scratch her cheek. "Oh, my God, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"You scratched your cheek, you liar," Abby pointed out with a laugh. Julia scowled at her. "We're sisters, Jules. Sisters talk about this stuff."

"I've never talked to you about my boyfriends before," Julia protested.

"That's because by the time you had an actual boyfriend you were at Stanford," Beth reminded her. "and you did use to talk to me about boys. Remember that guy you liked when you were in high school?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Julia groaned; Abby and Beth gave her expectant looks. "Fine, I like Dean. Happy?"

"Extremely," Abby smirked. "He sucked you back in, huh? How old were you when your crush on him finally went away?"

Julia blushed. "Fourteen."

Abby snorted in amusement. "Yeah, now I remember."

Julia sent her a glare while Beth slapped her arm. "Abby, stop," she scolded her before turning back to Julia. "Ignore her, Jules. It were cute."

"A fourteen-year-old crushing on a guy who was twenty? Yeah right," Julia scoffed. "And that's the problem, isn't it? He's almost seven years older than me. He doesn't see me as anything but a little sister."

Abby calmed her laughter. "Jules, Dean doesn't look at you like a sister," she told her baby sister. "He looks at me and Beth as sisters. He looks at you like you're sex on legs."

It was Beth's turn to giggle as Julia's cheeks darkened further and she ducked her head.

"And Sam says that he always checks you out," Abby added.

Julia looked up sharply. "He did?" Abby nodded. "Since when do you talk to Sam?"

"Since he grew up to be a hottie with a body."

Julia rolled her eyes so heavily that it hurt. "No one actually says that, Ab."

"Since when were we talking about me?" Abby protested as Beth laughed again. "my point it that Dean wants to fuck you."

"Okay, the five-year-old is going to be back any second so let's not use that language," Beth smothered her laughter as they heard the faucet cut off in the bathroom. "But, seriously, Julia, he likes you."

"What we're going from sex to feelings now?" Julia asked incredulously. "Sex, I get. I'm hot and Dean loves sex but feelings? Are we talking about the same Dean Winchesters, here?"

"I wanna talk about Uncle Dean!" Lizzie chirped as she ran back into the kitchen. She climbed back onto her stool and looked eagerly at her mom and aunts. "Are you talking about the crush he has on Auntie Jules?"

Julia gaped at her while Abby pointed enthusiastically. "See? Lizzie sees it too."

"That's because Beth's poisoning her mind."

"No," Lizzie protested innocently. "I heard Uncle Sammy and Auntie Abby talking about it."

"Well, I'm so glad that my love life is so interesting to you guys," Julia huffed with warm cheeks. She glanced at the oven, wishing the timer for the cookies would go off so they could change the subject.

"Look," Beth sighed. "Dean calls you multiple times a day, every day just to see how you're doing. Do you think he does that to anyone else who isn't Sam?"

"He's checking up on me."

"Don't give us that sh—crap," Abby shook her head, correcting herself before she could cuss in front of Lizzie. "You're scared that you'll put yourself out there and get rejected."

"Because it's Dean!" Julia exclaimed, frustrated. "Dean, who doesn't do relationships. So what if I want to protect myself? That's good."

"It's good to protect yourself," Beth agreed and grabbed Julia's clenched fists. "but you and Dean...you should see each other. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you're not looking. You move even an inch and he's shifting toward you. The way I see it, is this isn't a passing fancy."

"You're together every day, you fight along side each other, you protect one another," Abby continued. "You trust each other and that's rare in our profession, Jules. Even I can see that you guys have something special."

Julia wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. It was nice hearing her sisters say these things but she couldn't tell Dean about her less than platonic feelings for him. He was too important to her and she didn't want to lose him, even if it meant she had to get over her feelings. Dean didn't do relationships and she had tried the one-night stand thing and it didn't go well for her. Maybe it wasn't meant to be.

As if the universe was disagreeing with her, her phone rang from the counter by the fridge. Lizzie eagerly climbed off her stool again and raced toward the phone, flipping it open.

"Hi, this is Lizzie!" she chirped before gasping excitedly. "Uncle Dean, we were just talking about you!"

"Lizzie!" Julia lunged toward her niece, ignoring her flour-covered hands to grab the phone from her. She pressed it against her ear. "Uh, hey, Dean."

"Hi there, shortcake," Dean's voice was coy. "Heard that you girls were talking about me. Are there gonna be pillow fights next because, if you want, you could—"

"Okay," Julia hurried interrupted him, waving frantically at her sisters as they laughed at the mortified expression on her face. "We were, um, we're making cookies actually, so...yeah."

"And I just so happen to come up in the conversation?" she could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

"Uh, yeah, because," she walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom next door, shutting the door firmly behind her. "I was telling Lizzie that you liked pie instead of cookies."

Dean perked up. "You guys are making pie?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Julia agreed even though they hadn't really planned on it. "So, what's going on down there?"

"Eh, we got some more information," Dean sighed, becoming serious again. "Some kid told us that a guy named Mordechai Murdoch killed his six daughters during the Depression but what Sam found didn't quite match up."

Julia frowned. "Well, what did he find?"

"That the guy's name was actually Martin and he had two sons instead of six daughters," Dean informed her. "There's nothing to say he ever killed anyone."

"Huh," Julia wrinkled her nose. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I talked to the police and there's no missing persons, either," Dean paused for a second. "Jules, we dug like you wanted but we don't think there's anything here."

"Well, that's good, then," Julia said. "No spirit, no dead people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, on your way back, you can stop in Houston," she suggested. "I, um, I got that NASA tour for Levi, remember?"

"Jules, we can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Julia insisted. "I don't want it to go to waste and you love that kind of stuff, Dean. You and Sam deserve some fun once in a while, you know?"

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. "All right. We'll check it out."

"Good," she smiled. "I'll email Sam the information about the tour and hotel."

"Thanks, shortcake," Dean's voice cheered up a little. "I'll call you later when we head out, okay?"

"Okay, talk later. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Julia snapped the phone shut and sighed, pressing it to her chest. She was glad that she got to the phone before Lizzie could spill on what they were really talking about. Dean was already insufferable when he knew they were talking about him but if he knew that they were talking about feelings and sex and all that, his ego wouldn't be able to fit in the Hancock building.

She slipped her flour-covered phone into her apron pocket and quickly washed her hands before heading back to the kitchen.

-

Before Sam and Dean could even leave town, they got a call from the detective Dean spoke with the day before. The sun was still setting when he called, telling them to get to the Hell House as soon as possible. When they arrived on scene, a body bag was being carted to the coroner's van. The detective informed them that a girl had hung herself in the house, which sounded just like the Mordechai story went.

They went back to the Hell House around midnight and dodged the cops when those nerds, Ed and Harry showed up. Mordechai ended up attacking with an ax and was immune to rock salt, which led them to more research.

Dean sat on his bed, drawing that familiar symbol on the notepad that the motel provided. "What the hell is this symbol? It's bugging the hell out of me," he looked up at Sam, who was researching at the table. "This whole fucking job is bugging me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam said distractedly, focusing on his laptop.

"All right, well, that explains why he went after you but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam looked away from the screen to scowl at him. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam shook his head. "And the ax, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"

Dean nodded. "This dick keeps changing."

"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes..." Sam typed in Ed and Harry's website and pressed enter, waiting as it loaded. His eyes widened when he saw a new article about the Hell House. "Wait a minute."

Dean looked up from his notepad. "What?"

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," Sam informed him. "Listen to this: They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now, he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

Dean sat up as he stared at the symbol he had drawn, finally recognizing it.

"Where the hell is this going?"

"I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean rolled off his bed. "Come on, we gotta go to the record store."

They entered the record store not long after, spotting Craig at the cash register.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called to him over the loud rock music playing through the store. "Remember us?"

Craig sighed. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry," Dean waved him off as he stopped in front of the record crate marked with the second letter of the alphabet. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all."

He quickly flicked through the records in the crate and pressed his lips together when he found the one he was looking for. On the back of a Blue Oyster Cult record, he saw the symbol he had recognized at the Hell House.

He grabbed it and slowly walked over to Craig with Sam on his heels.

"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything," Dean told Sam conversationally, his voice hardening toward the end. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell out of people?"

When Craig turned around to face him and Sam, he handed the Blue Oyster Cult album to him. He took it and flipped it over, eyes flitting over the cover art, which included the symbol that was spray painted at the Hell House.

"Why don't you tell us about that house," Dean suggested. "Without lying through your ass this time."

Craig looked up at Dean for a moment. "All right," he sighed heavily. "My cousin Dana was on a break from TCU. I guess we were just bored and looking for something to do. So, I showered her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

"Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there so we made up some story to go along with that," he continued. "They told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took a life of its own."

Dean blinked at him; something about what he said was familiar.

"I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but..." Craig shook his head sadly. "That girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We just made the whole thing up, I swear!"

Sam nodded. "All right."

As they turned away from Craig to leave the record store, Dean muttered to Sam, "If none of it was real, how the fuck do you explain Mordechai?"

-

Dean was trying so hard not to smirk as he watched Sam wiggle around in his seat, trying not to scratch at his crotch. While his brother was in the shower, he had sprinkled itching powder into Sam's underwear and now he was able to watch the whole thing unfold right in front of him.

If only shortcake was here, too, he sighed mentally.

Sam was in the middle of talking to Julia on the phone, telling her his thoughts about Mordechai being a tulpa when Dean interrupted him, "Dude, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said avoidantly.

"What's going on?" Julia's voice came from the speaker.

"Nothing," Sam assured her. "So, these tulpas...There was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard that they brought the thing to life out of thin air."

"Okay, well, there are thousands of people on the internet," Julia said thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, wincing as he picked at his itchy jeans. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai and then it spreads and goes online where countless people believe in the bastard."

"Wait a second," Dean spoke up. "People believe in Santa Claus so how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Sam opened his laptop, still squirming, and pulled up a photo of the sigil that brought tulpas to life. He showed it to Dean. "And because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was."

On the phone, they could hear a thump of a book and then pages being flipped. "Okay, this book says that the sigil has been used to centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people who are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol and thinking about Mordechai...would that be enough to bring a tulpa to life?"

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Dean answered her.

"Right," Sam adjusted his jeans and added, "as the legend changes, people think different things so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean stated, choking back his laughter as Sam started wiggling more than he had. "So, why don't we get this spirit sigil thing-y off the wall and off the website?"

"I don't think it's that simple," Julia sighed as they heard more pages being turned. "Once a tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own."

"Great," Dean grumped. "So, if he really is a thought form how the fuck are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, that's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam showed him the video Ed and Harry put up on their website. "Since they posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh," Dean clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "I've got an idea but we have to find a copy store."

"What are you thinking?" Julia wondered.

"We're gonna give these boys a story and change the legend," Dean told her as Sam forcefully stood up and did a weird walk to relieve himself. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean snickered as Julia spoke up, "What? We use hypoallergenic soap, Sam."

Dean's laughter increased as Sam did a weird lunge in the middle of the motel room. Sam immediately stood up to his full height and glowered at his older brother.

"You did this?!"

Dean couldn't talk, he was laughing so hard.

"You're a fucking jackass!"

Dean continued to laugh, standing up from his chair to dodge the attack coming his way.

As Sam chased Dean around the room, they didn't notice as Julia sighed, "All right, I'm gonna hang up now."

-

After Dean and Sam told Ed and Harry about this new legend that they found—in which Mordechai would be killed with a pistol and wrought-iron bullets—and a little prank Sam pulled on Dean—where he superglued his beer bottle to the palm of his hand—they headed back to the Hell House to kill the tulpa once and for wall.

They entered the house with their firearms drawn and slowly walked their way around, looking for any sign of Mordechai.

Dean winced as he tightened his hand around his gun. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Sam snickered. "I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole."

Dean pressed his lips together, irritated, and flashed his light straight into Sam's eyes until he flinched. Once he was satisfied that he got some sort of revenge on his little brother, he continued on through the living room and into the kitchen. "So, do you think old Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam pointed his gun at the door that led to the basement.

"Me either."

Sam and Dean whipped around at the new voice, pointing their pistols in Ed and Harry's faces.

"Woah, woah!" Ed shouted while Harry lifted his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Sam raised his gun away from them. "What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?"

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

Before either of the irritated brothers could say another word, a crash came from the basement door. They instantly went back on alert, aiming their guns back at the door.

"Oh, shit," Ed muttered from behind them, focusing his camera on the action. "Hey, guys, do you wanna—you wanna open that door for us?"

"Why don't you?" Dean dared him.

None of them even stepped closer to the basement door as Mordechai burst through, growling at them while waving his ax in the air. Dean and Sam immediately took their shots but Mordechai didn't falter. It was only after full rounds that he disappeared but not in the way they wanted him too.

Sam and Dean immediately left the kitchen to check the other rooms on the first floor.

"Wait a minute?" Ed said breathlessly. "He's gone? He's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asked him urgently.

"Yeah, they got him."

"No," Harry shook his head. "On camera. Did you get him on camera?"

Ed faltered. "Well, I..."

Harry grabbed the camera from him. "Let me see it, let me see it."

He flipped open the little screen but was pushed to the floor as Mordechai appeared, smashing the camera with his ax. Dean ran back into the room after hearing some loud noises and glared at them.

"Hey, didn't you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?" he barked at them.

"Of course we did," Harry answered, getting to his feet as Sam came back into the room. "But then our server crashed."

Ed nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"So, it didn't take?" Ed and Harry shook their heads at Dean's question. "These guns don't work?"

"No."

"No."

"Great," Dean sighed and turned to his brother. "Sam, any ideas?"

Sam shrugged; no ideas. None whatsoever.

"We're getting out of here," Harry spoke up.

"Yeah," Ed agreed quickly. "Great idea."

They left the kitchen, only to run into Mordechai again. They screamed and ran for the front door but it was locked and they were unable to get out. They turned to see Mordechai and followed them to the front door and was slowly advancing toward them, raising his ax.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed shouted at the tulpa. "The power of Christ compels. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU."

Any other time, what Ed was saying would make Dean laugh so hard. But, alas, now was not the time for amusement. Sam ran up to the front door and shouted at Mordechai, getting his attention.

"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

While Sam and Mordechai fought and Ed and Harry ran out of harm's way, Dean found some lighter fluid in the kitchen. He quickly sprayed it all over the floor and onto the cupboards before heading into the living room to spray it there, too.

"DEAN!"

Hearing Sam's shout of help, Dean quickly grabbed a bottle of spray paint and pulled his lighter out of his pocket before running toward his brother and Mordechai.

"Hey!" he shouted at the tulpa before lighting his lighter and spraying the paint at the same time, creating a homemade blow torch.

Mordechai let Sam go and disappeared; Dean grabbed Sam and helped him run back into the living room.

"Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him? We improvise."

He showed Sam his lighter and clicked it out before throwing it onto the floor. The old wooden beams lit up immediately and Sam and Dean took off, knocking down the front door and jumping off the porch.

As they ran into the trees, Sam turned to Dean incredulously. "That's your solution?" he pointed at the flaming house. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, nobody will go in anymore," Dean shrugged. "I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back."

Sam sighed at Dean's nonchalant answer and turned back to the house. "Kind of makes you wonder," he said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them."

Dean didn't answer but he thought about what Sam said as he continued to watch the house burn. It did kind of make him wonder but he couldn't really consider that. No matter if a supernatural was real just because someone believed in them, they were still killing them and saving people.

It was the family business, after all.

(Gif is not mine)

[knjoodles]

mismatched pages; jimin x reader | 02

pairing: writer!jimin x writer!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 4.2K

summary: you love writing. it’s your passion, it’s what you dream to do forever. up until you find out the guy you really like also happens to be the guy who’s stealing your ideas. then it sucks.

tw: since the characters are writers, they brainstorm plots. there are small mentions of death in family and family members being jailed

lowercase intended

01

“you can’t be serious,” you groaned, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “absolutely not! i cannot make him do that!”

“what do you mean, ‘absolutely not’?” hyeyeon whined, accompanying you to ginam hall. “all i want is a chicken and avocado panini!”

“what part of ‘jimin’s already buying me lunch and i can’t make him buy more than he has to’ do you not understand?” you glared at hyeyeon, stumbling on her untied shoelace and turning to you with a crooked smile. she reminded you of the times where you, her, and jaehyun would eat at jaehyun’s family restaurant every friday night. the three of you, ‘the three musketeers’ as your mom would say when you were in middle school, were basically glued at the hip. or hips.

“hey, you’ve never been to that cafe! i know what’s good!” she tugged on your sleeve like a child, more concerned about getting that sandwich than the fact that this was the first time in a while you’d be having lunch with a guy other than jaehyun.

“so? what does that have to do with your panini?” you chuckled, pulling your sleeve back. 

“well, let’s see,” hyeyeon pout in thought while linking your arms together. “since i’ve told you which panini i like, knowing you, you’ll panic once jimin asks you what you want, look at his hands, get scared of his hands, look at the table, subtly cover your face with something, and say you want my panini.” 

you glanced at hyeyeon, perplexed. “where’d you get that chain of events from?”

“huh? you do that all the time!” hyeyeon exclaimed. “jaehyun and i noticed it from day one. when you go to a new place or don’t know what you want, you do that. and you do it so often that i know it by heart.” she wrung her hand over your shoulder. “anyways, once you get my panini, you’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, this is so good! hyeyeon is never wrong and i love her more than i love anyone else in the world!’” she mocked, a snort escaping from you, which was shortly accompanied by buoyant giggles. “and then, you’ll buy another one for the road home. and this is where i make my escape from under your bed to stealthily rescue my panini from the cold, empty chamber that is your mini fridge.”

“yeah, and how’re you going to ‘escape’ undetected?” you raised an eyebrow, playing along.

“because jimin’s gonna be drilling you into your mattress, so you won’t even see me!” she laughed, flashing you the most smug smile you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“hyeyeon!” you gasped, mouth hanging wide open. “that is not something you can say in public!” 

“what? that jimin’s gonna smash?” she hollered, nudging you and raising her eyebrows.

“stop hyeyeon, stop!” you hissed silently, trying to get her to quiet down. “he’s right there. he’s literally right there!” you pointed your finger at the poor unsuspecting park jimin, standing right in front of ginam hall, waiting for you. the two of you watched as he fished his phone from his back pocket and quickly typed what looked to be a text message. right after he hit send, your phone vibrated, making hyeyeon’s eyes grow like saucers and grab your phone from the back pocket of your backpack. 

“'hey (y/n),'” hyeyeon narrated. “'i'm outside ginam hall, waiting for you. hope you didn’t forget about our lunch so soon!’” hyeyeon glanced at you, rolling her eyes. “guess who that is."

“i’ll get you your damn panini!” you shook your head and smiled, grabbing your phone and setting it in your back pocket. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” hyeyeon grinned, hugging you tightly. “i’ll knock it off now. have fun!” she turned and raised her hand, motioning goodbye. ��bye, (y/n)!”

“bye, hyeyeon!” you sang. you swiveled on your heel to dash towards jimin, who now changed from his blue and beige outfit to a solid black one, accompanied with a cap. he quietly tapped his foot and scrolled through social media, seemingly unaware of your incoming, fast-paced footsteps headed in his direction. “jimin!” you called, waving your hand as he spun to face you. 

“hi, (y/n)! ready to go?” he waved with two fingers. “if i’m being honest, i thought you forgot about lunch with me. i was so excited to go to that new café! me taking you there is a half excuse to just try out the food.” he chuckled to himself, cracking a large smile. his voice and smile were soothing; for once you didn’t feel out of place or awkward with a person you’d just met. you acknowledged that you didn't know him extremely well, but the warmth of his tone softened the air and made you feel safe. 

“i am!” you chirped, bouncing on your tip-toes to try to be head-level with him. 

he smiled back at you and stood on his toes, making himself even taller than you. “nice try.” he smirked, looking down on your now frowning face as you tried to overtake him in size. “it’s not gonna happen, (y/n!)” he chimed, pushing down on your shoulders to your feet. “let’s go.” he tugged on the lanyard around his neck, holding what looked to be his hall keys, car keys, and meal card, along with a couple other knick-knack keychains referencing shows or books. 

“great.” you grinned. he turned his head to see whether or not you were behind him, listening to the pitter-patter of your footsteps as he led the way to his car.

“allora?” you read out the name of the small café in front of the two of you. “is this the place?” The name of the café was unique from the rest of the restaurants and shops on the street, and it definitely differentiated itself with it’s outdoor decor. it was smaller than the businesses it sat in between and in front of, with vines and bushes decorating its outside walls and sidewalk. there was a small patio in front of the café, tables and chairs lining the property with their respective umbrellas closed, soaking up the sun and cool air of the afternoon. jimin motioned for you to come inside and you followed, weaving through the thin cobblestone path set up to lead you to the front door. 

the air conditioning inside bit at your skin, prompting you to pull down the cuffs of your sweatshirt that proudly had the name of your university written on either sleeve. “chilly, huh?” jimin whispered, nudging you with his elbow and chuckling quietly. you looked up at him, feeling your cheeks warm up at how close he was to you. as you stretched your arms, the two of you waited for a host to come and seat you. you watched as jimin leaned over and balanced on one foot, trying to see if there were any employees that could help them out. once he spot one, he waved and called out shyly, “excuse me? hi, um, do you think you could help us out?”

a short, chubby woman appeared around the corner and gasped. “oh, i’m so sorry no one helped you out! rush hour isn’t for another twenty minutes, so we didn’t expect many people to come in.” she giggled. “two menus?” she asked, plucking two from a shelf underneath her desk. you nodded politely, returning the bright smile she flashed you and followed her to the table she chose for the two of you, a beautifully set table outside, warmed by the afternoon sun. “unfortunately, i won’t be your waitress for today.” she clasped her hands together, pouting. “but my niece, yura, will be! i’ll give you two a moment to find out what you’d like to eat. just raise your hand, and yura will come your way!” she placed a drink menu in between the two of you and scurried off, most likely to greet the next party of people you watched walk in. 

jimin opened his menu, reading as he spoke to you. “i like the name of this place.” he sighed, eyeing the put out candle holding up the drink menu— most likely kept to light for dinners or date nights. “you know, ‘allora’ is one of the most versatile words in italian?”

“ah, so it’s italian.” you replied, surprised by jimin’s knowledge. “tell me more!” you replied.

“i think it mainly has to do with time,” he explained, eyes lighting up. “from what i read, it can mean things like, ‘in that case’, or  ’so’, or ‘well’, or even ‘hey!” he listed. as he went on about how ‘allora’ is used in conversation, you noticed how excited he got when he seized the chance to teach you something. it clicked to you that he enjoyed learning and enjoyed spreading that knowledge to other people, which was probably why he’s so focused and devoted in class. you’ve met many people like this, but no one quite like jimin. he strikes you differently than other people.

“i see. is the family italian?” you asked, trying to keep him in his ebb and flow of ecstasy just talking to you about something he found interesting.

“yeah! i think the owners are an korean-italian family, the mother being italian and the father being korean.” he leaned in, picking up his menu to cover his mouth. “most people here don’t like it, but i really enjoy seeing mixed race couples in korea.” he whispered, his eyes crinkling. “i think it shows that love has no boundaries.”

you grinned, nodding happily in agreement. opening your mouth to respond, a shy voice sounded next to you. you turned your head slightly to see a young girl, no older than sixteen, standing in front of you with a notepad in her hand and a pen in her hair, tied into a low ponytail. she was thin and tall, with a facial structure that radiated simple beauty. “hello!” you beamed, placing your hands in your lap.

“hi,” she muttered, tripping over her words. “i’m yura, and i’ll be your waitress for today.” she leant down face level and motioned for you to come closer. you and jimin both followed her instructions as she mumbled, “i know you guys weren’t done, but my aunt said if i don’t come and check on you guys, she’s afraid you’ll leave.”

jimin cracked a smile at yura’s comment, laughing. “i think im ready to order. (y/n)?” he asked, turning to you.

“uh, yeah!” you confirmed, wanting to exit your body and slap yourself across the cheek. you didn’t even look at the menu. you don’t even know what they offer.

“okay!” yura chimed, clicking the pen in her right and and glancing at jimin. “what would you like to order?”

“i’d like the baked ziti with sausage and a virgin daiquiri.” jimin grinned, handing her both menus and mouthing a ‘thank you’.

there goes your menu.

“and for you, ma’am?” she looked over at you, in your state of absolute panic.

“i, um,” right on cue, according to hyeyeon, you glanced at his hands, then away from his hands, trying to subtly cover your panicked look with your arm. suddenly, you remembered the panini hyeyeon wouldn’t shut up about. “i’ll have the same drink he’s having and a chicken avocado panini.” you ordered. “oh, and could i get one of those to go as well?" you hoped hyeyeon could hear you mentally screaming thank you.

“is that all for now?” yura questioned, scribbling down both orders onto her tiny black notebook. “two virgin daiquiris, one baked ziti, and two chicken avocado paninis, one to go?"

“yes! thank you, yura.” jimin nod his head, signaling yura to turn on her heel and go place your orders. you watched her leave until she disappeared behind the translucent windows inside the café, scurrying to the kitchen.

“virgin daiquiri, huh?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “why no alcohol?”

“didn’t you order the same drink as me?” jimin teased, raising his eyebrow. “i don’t like day drinking. it gets in the way of my focus.” he shift his gaze to the patio’s wooden roof, decorated with rogue vines and many types of flowers, most colored pink or white. “but at night? like when the frat guys and sorority girls start to party? i’ll drink there.”

“seriously?” you groaned, frowning. just the thought of those people gave you a headache; the deafening music, the crowds of people and pungent smell of alcohol, drugs, and sex weren't exactly your definitions of fun. it’s not like you wanted to be antisocial around them, you explained it as extremely introverted. they just weren’t your cup of tea. “those guys? i can’t stand them. a couple days ago, that asshole, jeon jungkook? he started blasting music near the library and i couldn’t  focus for one second. like, i get it, i like listening to my music out loud with friends too, but not near a place where you know people are studying! does it kill them to head back to epsilon chi?” 

“ah, jeon jungkook.” jimin remarked. “we went to high school together and we were both part of the best group of friends i’ve ever known. like, seriously, it was great. our group is still together, but we’re missing jungkook. he decided to join epsilon chi because that’s the taekwondo team’s house. then, all of a sudden, they got this wrong idea of masculinity and started to pick up delta xi girls. i was surprised to be honest, i didn’t expect taekwondo guys to be so popular.” he lay his napkin on his lap and you follow, forgetting that it was even on the table. as you did so, yura returned with your drinks, placing them on the table and mentioning that your food would be out soon. after she left, jimin spun the paper straw of his daiquiri, sighing. “he’s a good kid. he used to be so open about liking art and anime, but once he joined that group, they pretty much showed no interest in it. he completely shed that side of his identity and it upsets me, to be honest. there was no need for him to change, yet here we are.” jimin’s frown said enough about what he thought of jungkook. “but, that doesn’t matter, we’re here to talk about our story!” his sudden change in mood slightly frightened you; how could someone drop something so personal like that so quickly? 

you didn’t question him. to be fair, would it even be okay to? 

“uh, yeah, actually, i have a couple ideas, one is kind of dumb though,” you admit, suddenly feeling self conscious about your plots. you don’t know what kinds of ideas jimin has, what’s stopping him from judging you from the core of his very being? you grew slightly frantic, thinking about all the ways he could criticize what you’ve come up with. 

“hey, if you came up with it, it can’t be dumb, now can it?” he lay his hand over yours, his compliment making your cheeks flare. you knew he could see it — your face wasn’t the most discreet when it came to how you truly felt.

“well, one of them is a college au type thing? based on what i’ve seen here and a couple episodes of criminal minds.” you laughed, causing jimin to smile. “it’s a mystery; this girl notices a series of patterns repeating over and over again throughout her campus, like puzzles. there’s a killer on the loose in her school, and every single day there are codes that are scattered that eventually reveal who’s the next victim. she employs her friends to help, and they all eventually narrow it down to one guy where the evidence is enough for the accusation to be believable and not to give away the rest of the plot. then, as she studies the evidence more, she realizes that her friends are actually the ones responsible for the deaths, and that all of the clues for the killers’ next victim points to her. but here’s the thing: there’s no unexplainable escape. her friends murder her in cold blood and attend her funeral, going by and never caught. that’s the story.”

you glanced over at jimin, whose mouth was wide open. “(y/n),” he gasped. “are you serious? that’s so cool!” 

you breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t step all over your plot. giddy that he enjoyed that plot, you mentioned another that you thought up. “well, i have another plot as well. i’m not sure what type of relationship i want the two protagonists to have, like a gay, straight, or lesbian relationship, so lets call the characters character a and character b. character a comes from a family where their mom passed away in a terrible truck-and-car collision, causing their dad to become a drunkard that brings women to their home very often. as a result, they feel the need to take care of their brother, someone who’s a junior in high school and can’t fend for himself just yet. character a is around 19 years old, dedicated to school, and won a scholarship to their dream school. they rent an apartment near the university with around four other people, all of them different ages and majors. in this group, they meet character b, a very closed off and introverted person. they’re passionate about music and don’t talk much, but character a and character b grow very close very quickly. character a learns that character b keeps to themselves because character b’s father got into an accident that landed him in jail for involuntary manslaughter. their father changed after he got out of jail and grew abusive towards character b's mother and character b. as character a dotes on character b’s story more and more, character a realizes that it was the fault of character b’s father that their mother is dead. the accident that sent character b’s father to prison is the same one that sent character a’s mother to a better place.” you paused, knowing that summary was a lot for someone to take in at once. 

“holy fucking shit, (y/n).” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t think i could beat something like that, ever!”

“are you sure? i wouldn’t be too sure.” you giggled, happy that he was amazed by your ideas. you were normally never proud of them, you just wrote them until it came out exactly how you wanted them and posted your writings. the appreciation and compliments regarding your writing from commenters never failed to brighten your day — they were also the reason why you were cooped up in your room late at night.

“excuse me?” a squeak from your left revealed yura carrying a large platter with both of your meals. she grinned at the two of you as she lay down your food, whispering, “thank you for being so nice. this is pretty much my first day on the job, and when i saw college students i didn’t know what to expect.”

“well, congratulations on your first day!” jimin clasped his hands together, shaking them and bowing his head playfully. “i’ll make sure to leave a tip.”

yura didn’t respond to jimin’s comment, but from her expression, it was easy to tell how grateful she was. she truly looked relieved that the two of you weren’t two jungkooks. leaving the two of you alone again, she hurried off inside to care to another customer.

“so, jimin, do tell,” you grinned, leaning in. “what plots did you have in mind?”

“that was,” you paused, throwing your head back. “so good!” you exclaimed. lunch with jimin was a success. he shared plots about stories surrounding the dark web, spies, and characters that solve their own mystery. his creativity and initiative struck a chord with you; you really enjoyed spending time geeking over well-made plots and characters. you also realized the two of you are both strangely drawn to angst and twisted tales, which helped you bond even more than you thought you would. you’d never expect in your life that you’d ever be friends with park jimin, let alone have lunch with him. silently thanking dr. yang, you let yourself in to the passenger seat of jimin’s car and buckled up.

“right? what did i tell you?” he agreed, nodding his head in excitement and starting his car. “make sure not to drop hyeyeon’s panini,” he reminded, the box with her food inside sitting on your lap. you forgot you had brought up how you thought hyeyeon loved food more than her boyfriend, and how she begged for you to get her a panini. 

you laughed at his comment, rolling your eyes and resting both your hands on top of the box. “maybe i’ll just do it anyway,” you joked as he pulled out of the parking lot, winding through the small streets that lined the city. 

“you have day schedule like me, right? so you’re basically done for the day after four?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“yeah,” you confirmed, turning to him and eyeing his side profile, lacking any flaws that a normal person would have. “i think that’s why i was so late, honestly, going to sleep late and waking up early isn’t a good look for me.”

“hey, that just means you work hard. i respect how dedicated you are in class.” he complimented. "you know, when i first walked in, i really wanted to talk to you?” he admit. you turned to him to see his cheeks grew a little pink; he was never the most talkative of people, so to hear him say something brought a smile to your face.

“really?” you asked, leaning into your seat and running your thumb over the top of the box in your lap. 

“yeah,” he shift his gaze to make eye contact with you at a stop light. “i thought you were really passionate and wanted to get to know you, but i never got around to it. i mean, you, hyeyeon, and jaehyun looked like this perfect group, and i didn’t want to intrude on you,” he reasoned, turning into the campus parking lot. “if you haven’t noticed, i don’t really talk to people that often in class,” his comment made you snort, the two of you sharing a laugh. “but that’s mainly because i’m shy. i know people who were convinced i hated them. like, really? they were convinced? i can barely ‘convince’ myself to hate someone.” he quickly parked his car into the first open spot he could find and turned his engine off.

“well,” you grinned, letting yourself out of his car. “you’re welcome to join us any time. i’ve got to run, and i’m pretty sure hyeyeon is behind that building over there awaiting her panini. thanks for the lunch!”

jimin, getting out of his car, stopped you before you left. “hey, i wanted to let you know that i don’t think tonight works for me anymore. let’s get to writing tomorrow?”

“yeah, sure!” you confirmed, giving him a swift hug as a way of saying goodbye. “thanks, again. i had fun.”

“no problem; i had fun too.” he replied, waving his hand before setting foot in the opposite direction to his next class’ lecture hall. “see you soon!” he called over his shoulder. 

all smiley, you bolted over to hyeyeon, currently attempting to stealthily watch the two of you. “nice try,”  you rolled your eyes, handing her the box with her panini. you watched as she danced in place, eyes lighting up at the sight of food. she greedily opened the box and pulled out her sandwich—  which, of course, was as good as she said it was — and took a small nibble out of the corner.

you shot her a confused look. “i eat slow to savor and enjoy,” she explained, putting on a haughty voice. ironically, she took a large second bite, nearly taking out one fourth of it in one go. “but hey, how was lunch with jimin? did you do the thing?”

“it was pretty great, actually. we chat mostly about our plots; i told him two of mine and he told me three of his. not gonna lie, it intimidated me, how fucking good he is at plotting, but we eventually settled on a story about a group of spies that have a bunch of weird familial ties — it’s hard to explain, but it makes such a good plot!” you squealed, excited that the two of you came up with a plot that included things that interested you both. “i’m so excited to be working with him,” you gushed. “i think we make a really good team. and, yeah,” you sighed, eyeing her annoyedly. “i did do ‘the thing’.”

“hah! i knew it! what did i tell you?” hyeyeon hollered triumphantly, wiping some rogue sauce from the side of her lip using a napkin. “okay, out of ten, how would you rate your lunch?”

“uh,” you looked back, wondering if jimin was still in sight. you could faintly see his silhouette entering jidae hall, bowing to the person who let him in. you turned to face hyeyeon awaiting your answer. “i’d give it a ten out of ten."

—

taglist: @heyimuglyandthatsfine @smolninja

[disneydreamlights]

For the controversial ship meme - ALL symbols for Persona, Kingdom Hearts, and Hatoful Boyfriend.

You really out here wanting me to die tonight for my opinions.

Persona:

Ship that you have as an OTP: 🌹

SHUAKE FOR LIFE. God I love Shuake. Enemies to lovers in general just gives me life but the fact that Akechi and Akira were made to be foils to each other is just good shit.

Ship that you’re indifferent to: 😑

Honestly most Phantom Thief shipping I’m pretty ambivalent to, but if I had to pick the one I’m like...truly the embodiment of “meh” about I’d probably say Ann/Akira. I don’t love it or hate it, it just kinda exists.

Ship that makes you sad: 💔

God I’ve got two: Akiham and Fool Moon. You want depression? Great, take these ships and run with it. And if you thought the fact that Shinji dying made Fool Moon depressing, how about the fact that if you romance Aki you can’t save Shinji, so he’s lost his parents, his sister, his absolute best friend in the entire world, and now you too.

...Akihiko deserved better.

Ship that you find disgusting: 💩

KEN/MINAKO CAN GO DIE IN A HOLE BYE.

Ship that you find cute but don’t ship: ✌

I don’t really ship it but of the female confidants and Akira, ShuMako is definitely the cutest.

Ship that you secretly like: 💚

I will never own up to this again but Ann/Ryuji actually lowkey is kinda cute, and while I’m not super into it I’d definitely get behind it.

Ship that you used to have as an OTP: 💙

None really? For me to dump a ship at OTP status you gotta cataclysmically fail as bad as Lotura and have a fanbase worse than some KH ships.

Ship that you find most sexy:👅

I got held up on this for like ten minutes because I’ve never actually thought of this in regards to Persona...I guess probably Shuake? All my other ships I see as sexually incompetent to some degree. 

Ship that you can never see happening: 👎

Any of the kid/adult ships. Also Futaba/Akira, the two are practically like adoptive siblings and that’s just weird.

Ship that is canon but you don’t ship: 💤

n/a. The only canon ship in Persona is Junpei/Chidori and that’s...good.

Ship that is unpopular but you still like: 💘

...Honestly Ann/Ryuji I’m pretty sure is unpopular. Also anything P3 because the fandom is too quiet.

Ship that is taboo: 💦

Shuake? I can see this ship being classified as taboo given I had to leave a server over hate for it.

Ship that pisses you off: 💣

...Ken/Minako please fuck off.

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

I would love to see more of MakoHaru, it’s got a lot of potential but not a lot of attention and that’s a real shame.

Ship that needs more love: 💖

Every one of my P3 ships. Give Akiham more love, give Fool Moon more love, give Mitsuru/Yukari more love. Give Junpei/Chidori more love.

Ship that is most misunderstood: 💢

Shuake is misunderstood even by its fans because too many of its fans white knight Akechi and erase his wrong doings when half of the interesting things from the ship come from Akechi growing from everything he did wrong and that’s the tea.

Kingdom Hearts:

Ship that you have as an OTP: 🌹

I always crossfire my OTPs but I guess if I had to pick one to top all of them it would probably be RikuShi? Hard to say.

Ship that you’re indifferent to: 😑

Tequa. I want to like Tequa, I really do. I just can’t bring myself to care about it that much, and that saddens me.

Ship that makes you sad: 💔

Hey canon SoKai absolutely broke my heart, crushed my dreams, destroyed my soul, and I want to cry.

Ship that you find disgusting: 💩

I sat here for like an hour because I genuinely wanted to avoid naming the ship and in the end I decided I’m tied between Ak*R*ku and Ak*Shi. The age gap plus the fact that Axel feels more like their dad just makes me uncomfortable, that being said if the arts good I’m still gonna reblog.

Ship that you find cute but don’t ship: ✌

There are a lot of good high crack combinations out there like Sora/Ariel, Sora/Rapunzel. I also admire R*kuShi from a distance but the fanbase kinda turned me off pretty bad given the ship wars between them and RokuNami.

Ship that you secretly like: 💚

Terra/Cinderella is a ship I will never talk about shipping but it’s actually genuinely really cute and I blame Talia for making me ship it.

Ship that you used to have as an OTP: 💙

Once upon a time back in 2018 I was a huge S*RiK*i shipper. Then KH3 came out and well...

The behavior of some people has kinda turned me off big time from a specific third of the ship and if you don’t like all three parts then what’s the point of OT3ing.

Ship that you find most sexy:👅

Vanqua. Which I feel weird saying but you know what, that would one hundred percent be it. The rest of my ships completely lack sex appeal but Vanqua has Aqua in it and she’s literally the most attractive character in KH.

Ship that you can never see happening: 👎

Well of my own ships...Vanqua, but of the other ships...

You know what, for my own safety, I’d rather not say.

Ship that is canon but you don’t ship: 💤

Well I ship the canon and implicated canon ships so...

Ship that is unpopular but you still like: 💘

GULAVA HAS THREE SHIPPERS AND YOU KNOW WHAT I WILL PROUDLY BE ALL OF THEM.

Ship that is taboo: 💦

Vanqua. Big taboo here.

Ship that pisses you off: 💣

...

...

...

Look.

I don’t want to die Perla.

You already know my answer and why.

You know how much I hate that one theory and hate the fandom’s attitude and it’s made me legitimately angry over a ship.

I think you know the answer.

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

Aquarella looks real cute. So does NamiXi but not enough content.

Ship that needs more love: 💖

RokuNami needs more love, the ship’s fallen into quietness, but also my eternally rare pairs of GulAva and RikuShi and Vanqua and XehaEra need more content and deserve to be fed.

Ship that is most misunderstood: 💢

VANQUA

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST GUYS THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH AN AGE GAP BETWEEN A SIXTEEN AND EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD STOP PORTRAYING IT AS GROSS THERE ARE UNDERSTANDABLE REASONS TO CALL VANQUA BAD AND A REASON I WOULD NEVER WANT IT CANON BUT THE AGE GAP DIFFERENCE IS NOT IT.

Hatoful Boyfriend:

Ship that you have as an OTP: 🌹

My oc x Yuuya because Zoe and I rped that and it’s one of my top ships period. Sakuya/Ryouta is honestly a very good ship and 10/10 would ship again.

Ship that you’re indifferent to: 😑

Honestly most ships? There’s just not a lot of birdie combinations I’m super into in general.

Ship that makes you sad: 💔

Hiyoko/Ryouta is particularly tragic, even if I’m not a shipper of it, once you take into account BBL.

Ship that you find disgusting: 💩

Yuuya/Sakuya

Fuck off with that incest.

Ship that you find cute but don’t ship: ✌

I’m not super big into Anghel/Nageki but it’s real cute anyways, just not enough canon substantiating it.

Ship that you secretly like: 💚

N/A. Don’t really had any of my Hatoful ships.

Ship that you used to have as an OTP: 💙

None? Same deal as P5 there was no fuckery in the fanbase to turn me off. It’s a nice chill fanbase over here.

Ship that you find most sexy:👅

...They’re birds.

Ship that you can never see happening: 👎

Shuu/Yuuya. I know there are people who ship it and no.

Ship that is canon but you don’t ship: 💤

N/A. No canon ships.

Ship that is unpopular but you still like: 💘

...I’m not involved in the fandom enough for this tbh.

Ship that is taboo: 💦

None I’m interested in tbh.

Ship that pisses you off: 💣

PEOPLE WHO SHIP EITHER SETS OF BROTHERS. JUST NO.

Ship you’re curious about: 👀

Anghel/Nageki. Let them interact more in the next game.

Ship that needs more love: 💖

...All of them. This fandom is tiny give the game more love before its ships.

Ship that is most misunderstood: 💢

None that I can think of?

[cowboy-crimez]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Number Five, Eudora Patch, Chuck Beaman, brief Klaus Hargreeves, brief Vanya Hargreeves, Mentions of Allison Luther and Ben Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, No Apocalypse, Trans Character, child!Five, he is a Teenager, maybe a bit ooc but hey the charter of rights promises me liberty and i'm taking it, Coming Out, Time Skips Summary:

eudora and beaman are surprised to find out diego has a kid; they're more surprised when they see what their relationship is like

The first thing that tips Eudora off that something weird is happening, is the fact that Diego is wearing a tie. Not just some shoddy clip-on tie, or one that he clearly borrowed from some other detective, like when he has to give a testimony on the stand, but an actual hand tied tie.

The second thing is his absolutely foul mood.

“Jesus, what’s got your panties in a bunch?” Beaman asks after Diego snatches a cup of coffee from him. His question makes Diego scowl more. Surprisingly, instead of just telling him to fuck off, he actual answers.

“I have to go to this bullshit interview with my kid’s principal because my smartass of a son has behavioural issues, which I already fucking knew, and I told them last time I had to go to a parent-teacher interview, I said, ‘He doesn’t like other kids, he won’t do class participation, he’s not going to play games with other kids, he just wants to sit down and learn and read and then go home’ and they said, ‘Oh, Mr. Hargreeves, I’m sure that’s not true, we can get him out of his shell!’. Well! He’s out of his fucking shell now and he’s telling other kids that they’re fucking dumbasses!” Diego seethes, jaw tensing more and more as he goes on.

Eudora and Beaman stare at him, jaws dropping. Diego takes a breath.

Eudora clears her throat. “I didn’t know you had a kid.” Beaman nods in agreement.

Diego looks at them. “He came in like two weeks ago with my brother to give me my house keys.”

They both cast their memory back, trying to remember if either of them had seen a kid with Diego’s eyes, or hair, or mouth, or skin tone. The only kid they remember seeing Diego with was a pale boy with brown hair, who seemed to be mouthing off to an annoyed Diego. The kid came in with Klaus, and given the stories, she heard of him, and their similar colouring, she has presumed that the kid was his or Dave’s. In retrospect, Eudora guesses the kid and Diego had similar noses.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, uh good luck, I guess.”

Diego nods, grabs his coffee and stalks back to his desk.

--

Eudora doesn’t feel as bad that she didn’t know that Diego had an entire child without her knowing, once she realizes that nothing about him or his workspace advertises the fact.

He has no pictures of anyone at his desk - not even his mom, and Eudora knows how much he loves her - much less any pictures of him and his kid at a baseball game or birthday party. His wallet is sans photos as well; she knows because once she had to dig through it to find a ten dollar bill to pay for some take out they ordered on a night shift. Even his phone screen is just a default black.

The only thing that could possibly point towards the fact that he’s a father is his phone calls when he’s working late.

The Captain is really breathing down everyone's necks to get the crime stats in, and after a brief server crash that erased twenty minutes worth of work for everyone, he’s screaming that everyone is staying an extra three hours to get them back on track. It’s already six, so people groan and start to call and text their significant others and kids that they’ll be late for dinner or bedtimes.

Eudora sees Diego roll his eyes once the Captain goes back to his office, before digging his phone out of his pocket. Usually, he’ll go and walk outside to make phone calls, but he must be feeling tired today because he stays seated.

Eudora hates feeling nosy, but she figures, I’m a detective, and Diego is sometimes a partner, so she should know this about him right?

He clicks on a contact, then puts his phone to his ear.

“Hey,” He says, voice neutral, “I’m gonna be home late tonight. Hm? No, it’s just work stuff. Listen, there’s leftovers in the fridge from last night, if you’re still hungry after you’ve had that then you can order a pizza or something. If I find an empty pizza box and the leftovers, I swear to god, I’m feeding you plain mashed potatoes for a month. I should be back home before you’re asleep, but I’ll let you know if I get held up anymore. Make sure you do your home- oh, you’re already done? Okay, good job. Okay, see you later. Wait! I just remembered that you’re grounded… uh…. If you watch tv, make sure it’s off by the time I get home so that I can pretend that you’re actually being punished. Oh, you do that anyway? Great. Okay, bye.” He hangs up, slips his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket, and goes back to staring at a report he’s trying to type up.

Curiosity takes over Eudora.

“So, uh, that was your kid?” She asks, leaning over to talk to him.

Diego nods, “Yup.”

“You have a son, right?”

“Uh huh.”

She waits for a follow up that never comes.

“What his name?”

“Five.” He squints at some writing, before backspacing and retyping a line. Eudora blinks.

“His name… is Five?”

“Yeah, he refuses to go by anything else.”

Eudora nods again slowly. “How old is he?”

“He’s fourteen but he acts like he’s a fucking twenty seven year old business major with the attitude that he’s got.”

Eudora furrows her eyebrows. Fourteen? Diego turned thirty less than a year ago. That means he had the kid - got someone pregnant! - when he was sixteen, maybe fifteen. She leans back into her chair.

“Oh.” She says, suddenly understanding why Diego never barged into work showing everyone new baby photos like Martinez from I.T. did a few months ago. Why he doesn’t go around showing off awards or certificates that Five has won. She gets why he doesn’t have any photos of a young kid on his shoulders at his desk, or why he doesn’t go around bragging about his son’s - Five’s - accomplishments.

A lot of people their age have kids, yes, but only around the ages of five or six, maybe even if they started a family early. Baby pictures of Five would also be high school pictures of Diego. To Eudora’s knowledge, Diego is single and has been for at least a few years. He was single when he entered the police academy too, when he was twenty-one, too.

Five’s mom probably isn’t in the picture, hell, maybe she never was in the picture, to begin with.

Eudora made a lot of mistakes with people at sixteen, but never one that resulted in a kid.

She looks over at Diego, still squinting at the screen and typing away, and more than anything feels sympathy for him.

Still, she thinks, turning back to her own work, it’s a bit sad that he seems to ignore the fact that he has a kid when he’s at work.

--

It’s three weeks later when Beaman looks up from his desk and sees a kid walking towards Diego. He’s wearing a school uniform, knee socks and all, and looks incredibly bored. He has a backpack on but is still carrying a notebook in his hands.

He makes his way to Diego’s turned back, raises his notebook, and lets it drop to the ground. It lands with a loud SMACK that makes every cop in a two-metre radius jump. Diego isn’t an exception, with the way he jerks around, hand finding his holster.

When he sees the kid, he sighs.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?”

The kid shrugs, before leaning down and picking the notebook up. He takes off his backpack then puts the notebook into the bag.

Diego looks at the clock on his computer. “We have a few minutes, let me finish this then we can get going, okay, Five?”

The kid groans, but nods, dropping his backpack at Diego’s feet and stalking off towards the kitchenette.

Beaman wheels his chair over and asks, “Who’s the kid?”

“Five,” Diego replies, “My son.”

Beaman sputters, before managing an “Oh, okay.” and returning to his desk.

After a few minutes, Diego, seeming satisfied with his work, logs off the computer and starts to gather his things. Five returns with a paper cup that steaming.

Diego glares, “I told you not to drink any more coffee today.”

“Yeah, well, you also told me not to drink alcohol and yet somehow I know how to make a margarita.”

Diego sighs pinches the bridge of his nose, and says, “Just pick up your shit and let’s go.”

Five grabs his backpack, before hastily walking out.

--

“You know, I saw Diego’s son today,” Beaman tells Eudora in the breakroom later, “He was… something else.”

Eudora nods, “They don’t really look related, do they?”

“No, not really. I mean, I guess they have similar noses, but that’s about it.”

Eudora takes a sip of her tea. “He’s… older than I would have thought.”

“Yeah,” Beaman lets out a whistle, “Diego must’ve had him young.”

“He really doesn’t seem like the parenting type, does he?”

“That he does not.” Beaman thinks about Diego’s remarks to Five before leaving.

They both nod, feeling vaguely guilty about talking about Diego’s parenting behind his back, before finding a new topic to talk about.

The next day, they don’t bring up Five to Diego.

--

Vanya doesn’t dislike Five, in fact, she loves him dearly, would be willing to put down her life for him if he needed it. Five has made her life better in many ways; his existence helped her and Diego’s relationship immensely, him always wanting her to teach him how to read music, how to play the piano or violin has made her a better teacher, and she loves watching him light up as he gets carried away on some tangent about math, or physics or space. Overall, Vanya can’t imagine her life without Five being somewhere in the background.

It’s just.

He listens to her even less than he listens to Diego, which already, isn’t a lot.

She supposes that’s to be expected. Diego is Five’s dad, the highest authority the kid recognizes besides his own, which means that all his aunts and uncles fall below that.

Klaus doesn’t mind the fact that Five never listens to him or Dave, in fact, Vanya thinks he enjoys basically being equals with the fourteen-year-old. Five only listens to Ben occasionally, since Ben can usually use reason to convince Five one way or the other. Sometimes Five listens to Allison, the new(er) mom able to appeal to the childlike tendencies that Five tries to pretend don’t exist. Anything Luther says Five ignores on principle, a fact that brings a smile to Diego’s face.

But, Vanya? She knows that Five respects her authority more than other aunt or uncle - that doesn’t mean he likes her more though, she has learned over time. He just respects her more.

She thinks it’s because she always tried to listen to him when he was younger. She never tried to speak over him or dismiss him outright. She didn’t want him to feel like she did.

When Five was really young, he used to sneak into her bedroom when it was supposed to be his nap time. The naps were partially for Five, and partially to give Diego time to get out all the aggression he couldn’t let out around a kid.

Five would watch as Vanya practiced the violin, or sit on her lap as she read, or sometimes actually nap on her bed while she studied.

Not much has changed, considering she comes home to her apartment some nights, to find Five asleep on her couch.

“You cannot keep breaking into my apartment!” She says, making tea for both of them, waiting for Diego to come to pick Five up. He sounded annoyed over the phone, no longer surprised by Five’s antics but still irritated by them.

“So long as you continue to leave your windows unlocked, I certainly can.”

“I live on the second floor!"

“Rapists can climb!”

Vanya closes her eyes and breathes through her nose. She grabs the cups of tea and brings them over to the coffee table.

“Why did you even come over, Five? It’s late, it’s cold, I know that it takes at least forty minutes on the bus. Why did you come all the way over here?” Maybe it’s a by-product of literally growing up with him - albeit in a very different stage of development - that made Vanya so attuned with Five. She never had to pull the parent card, like Diego did (he was the only one who felt comfortable doing that as a teenager), and she never felt comfortable to just ‘become friends’ with Five, as Klaus and Ben did. She didn’t distance herself or wait for Diego to beg her for help to start a relationship with Five. She’s really, not that she wants to admit it, the closest thing to a normal aunt that Five has.

Five looks at his lap and in a soft voice, he said, “I got into another fight at school and Diego had to pick me up. He was really angry and he yelled at me in the car, and then I yelled back, and then he had to go back to work.” Five’s voice gets impossibly quieter, “I felt really bad and I didn’t want to have to see him right away when he was done work. So I came here.”

Vanya looks at Five’s hunched over figure. Sometimes she forgets how young he is, how young Diego is to have him. She moves over to sit next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, Five, I get that. But you can’t keep leaving home without calling or leaving a note. Diego worries about you, and when he worries, so do I. And regardless what you may believe - or may want to believe - Diego is your father and does think a lot like you,” she can see Five rolling his eyes. “He’ll understand if you let him."

Fifteen minutes later Diego is waiting at the door as Vanya gives Five a hug goodbye. She gives Diego a look before he leaves, and tells him to drive safe.

Vanya doesn’t know if her speech had any effect on Five, or if she helped the situation at all. All she knows is that from then on, Five texts her letting her know that he’s climbing the fire escape to break in.

--

Diego gets a knee to the chest and what’s probably a broken rib a few weeks later. This is on top of the stab wound to his shoulder. Eudora finishes up with the arrests, before going over to the ambulance that he’s sitting in, watching as he winces trying to get his shirt over his head.

“Got a new scar to add to the collection?” She jokes, seeing the paramedic laying out tools, getting ready to stitch Diego up.

Diego finally pulls his shirt all the way off, groaning as he brings his arms back down, “Oh yeah, you know me, can never get enough.”

Eudora laughs before her eyes fall to Diego’s chest. Two symmetrical scars lay underneath his pectorals, only just slightly paler than the rest of his skin.

“When did you get those ones?” She jerks her chin towards his chest. He looks down and seems a bit embarrassed when he looks back up.

“Uh, got them before the academy, way earlier.” Eudora wants to follow up but then sees him tense as the paramedic starts to disinfect the wound, letting him know that the first stitch will come any second.

She always finds it funny that Diego will brush off a stabbing or a bullet wound like it’s nothing, but even mentioning needles will make him pale.

“Hey, so uh, will Five be worried about you?” She asks, figuring that there’s no better way to distract Diego than to get him to talk about his son.

Diego snorts. “Five? No way, he’ll probably make fun of me for being too slow to dodge a knife.”

Eudora hums, pretending like that’s a normal response. “What was he like when he was young?”

The paramedic is starting the first stitch, and Diego’s face gets pinched. “He was a fucking angel as a baby. Quiet, didn’t cry, ate his food. Didn’t last long though, turned into a demon as soon as he could walk and talk. Sometimes I think that he’s making up for lost time by being mouthy now.”

Eudora’s about to ask another question and is surprised when he continued unprompted.

“You know, a lot of parents say things like, ‘I loved my kid the moment they were born’, or even before they were born. My dad, he… well, I didn’t want a kid at sixteen, I mean, who the fuck does? But, I was acting out, and I was angry at that age, and he thought that going through with it would be the ultimate punishment and the ultimate lesson in responsibility. So, even though I didn’t want Five, I had him. And the whole time leading up to his birth, I was thinking, ‘I can love him when I hold him, I’ll love him as soon as I set eyes on him’, and then he was born and I held him and I just. I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t hate him for ruining my life, but I also didn’t love him. I feel guilty as fuck about that now, but I was sixteen, I had to quit my swim team to take care of this kid, I had to quit archery and track, I couldn’t go out to parties anymore, none of my friends wanting to hang out with me, and my siblings didn’t know how to treat me anymore, all my time I was just looking after this thing that didn’t even look like me. But as he got older - as we both got older - I guess I learned how to love him. And I really do love him, I would do anything for him now.”

The paramedic is almost done with the stitches, and Diego looks just about ready to faint.

“I just, I wish I had him at a better time. I wish I could have loved him from the beginning. I think he knows that I didn’t love him at first.” The paramedic ties off the last stitch. “I think that he’ll always hate me because of that.”

Before Eudora can say anything else, Diego’s eyes roll back as he faints. The paramedic catches him, lays him onto the stretcher and says, “Low blood sugar, probably. He’ll be back up in no time.”

Eudora nods, deciding that this is the type of conversation that she won’t repeat, and that she can’t bring up again.

--

Five never says so, but days with Diego aren’t really as bad as he pretends they are. They’re lounging on the couch after a day of errands, visiting Grace (Five refuses to call her grandma, at this point, not even he knows why), and a visit to the library so that Five could get an extension on a book he hasn’t quite finished reading.

To top it all off, on the way home they stopped at a cafe, and Diego let Five order the biggest coffee on the menu without complaint or comment.

The show on television is garbage, and Five would rather be reading his library book, but he’s so comfy underneath the blanket Diego threw over him, and despite the amount of caffeine he ingests daily, he can feel his eyes slipping closed.

He’s only slightly roused when he feels two strong arms around him, lifting him from the couch. He just curls in on himself more, and he can faintly hear Diego chuckle but it sounds and feels a million miles away.

Five feels himself being placed on his bed, hears Diego tugging at the comforter until it’s over Five’s shoulder, and the pressure as he tucks him in, something he hasn’t done in almost a decade. He barely did it before too.

Five assumes he’ll leave right away, so he starts snuggling into bed, but then his sleep addled brain is surprised when he feels Diego petting his hair and whispering,

“Goodnight, kiddo,” a term Five never lets him use, and then he feels Diego kiss the side of his head, an action Five never lets him do. “I love you.”

After a second that lasts an eternity, Five hears the door to his room close, leaving him alone in his room.

If he sleeps any better than night than usual, he racks it up to coincidence.

--

Beaman is at a club with his friends on a Friday night. It’s not a common occurrence, but his friend got a promotion and wanted to celebrate. The club they’re in isn’t strictly a gay club, but he can tell there’s a lot of gay people in it. Not that he has a problem with that, it just means that he doesn’t think he’ll be heading home with anyone tonight.

It’s just after ten when Beaman finishes his drink and heads to the washroom. As soon as he opens the door he can tell that people are going at it in the stall. The grunting and moaning can be heard over the muffled music when the door is closed, and he can see the two different pairs of shoes underneath the stall door.

Usually, Beaman would hightail it out of there, but he’s already pleasantly drunk, and he really has to piss, so he just shrugs and uses the urinal. As he’s zipping his pants back up he hears one last grunt and some heavy breathing.

Beaman is just finishing drying his hands at the sink when the stall door opens, and who else than Detective Diego Hargreeves walks out. Beaman turns around after recognizing him in the mirror, and Diego stops in his tracks, mouth gaping.

Beaman has to say, he never expected Diego to own leather pants.

The other man - oh lord, the man Diego was having sex with - walks out of the stall, slaps Diego’s ass, before saying, “Call me sometime, baby.” and walking out, not before throwing a tied condom in the trash.

Diego and Beaman stay frozen.

After a minute Beaman clears his throat. “So, I guess Five won’t be getting a sibling anytime soon.”

Diego lets out a laugh that, even in his slightly drunk state, Beaman can tell is forced and pinched.

They’re saved from any further awkwardness when a skinny dude wearing a skirt - Klaus, Beaman remembers - bursts into the washroom, yelling, “Brother dearest, did you have a good time?”

Diego whips towards him, immediately saying, “I’m going home now.”

Klaus pouts and says, “Ugh, Dave wants to leave too, you guys are so boring. But, fine, let's go. ”

Diego almost sprints out of the washroom.

On Monday, Beaman can barely make eye contact with Diego without blushing.

--

It starts out a fairly quiet day. Eudora hands in all her completed files and reports before noon, interviews a witness and manages to organize her desk before everything goes to shit.

Before she even sees what’s going on, she hears a voice demanding, “Let go of me, you goddamn creep!”

Diego’s head snaps up, eyebrows furrowing when he sees Davidson, the beat cop, leading Five by the arm through the precinct.

“Five?” Diego asks, eyeing the cut on his cheek, bloody knuckles, and the blood around his nose, “What happened?”

“He got into a fight with a classmate. Happened outside school grounds. A bystander called, I recognized him, figured I would let you handle it since the kid’s parent decided not to press charges.” Davidson turns to Five, “You got lucky this time, kid.

“Fuck off, pig, don’t call me ‘kid’.” Five spits.

Eudora can see Diego’s jaw tense as he says, “Thank you, Davidson.”

Davidson’s hand isn’t even off of Five before Diego is standing and pushing Five into the chair next to his desk.

“Five, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that Eric is a little bitch who thinks he’s better than me, so I wanted to prove him wrong. I miscalculated and got my ass handed to me.” Five says, blunt as ever. Diego pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You can’t go around fighting everyone-”

“Why not? You do.”

“Yeah, because I’m allowed because I’m a cop. You’re a kid.”

“Don’t call me a kid.” Five hisses.

“I will stop calling you a kid when you stop fucking acting like one,” Diego replies.

“Well, maybe I’ll stop ‘acting like one’ when you stop acting like you’re my dad.”

“Five,” Diego starts with a warning tone, “I am your dad.”

“No,” Five says, voice raising, not that it matters since just about every cop on the floor is staring, “You’re not. You’re just some fuck up who got stuck with me and now thinks he knows what’s best for me.”

“Fidel Victor Hargreeves, I swear to god-” Diego seethes, voice suddenly impossibly quiet, but before he can finish Five yells over him again.

“Or what? What will you do, Diego? Ground me? Make me switch schools again? Finally going to send me away like you always wanted?! Guess what Diego, I don’t need you, and I don’t want you around! I’d rather have an actual mom or dad, or better yet, nothing at all, instead of whatever the fuck you are!”

Diego seems stunned into silence, and after a second of heavy breathing, Five starts to get up from the chair to try and walk away.

Quick as a whip, Diego’s hand shoots out, pushing him back onto the chair and handcuffing him to the desk.

“What the fuck, Diego?” Five shrieks.

If Diego’s voice is watery, no one will be brave enough to comment, “You got into a fight - assaulted someone. I’m not letting you leave this precinct alone. And since I’ll have to clean up your mess - again - that means you have to wait here until someone can pick you up.”

For a second Five is still, until he lashes out trying to kick Diego.

“If you keep throwing a tantrum I will throw you into a holding cell,” Diego says, before grabbing his phone and walking away.

“Fuck you, you fucking fascist!” Five screams after him, but as soon as Diego is out of sight, he just crosses his arms the best he can and hunches over in the chair.

Eudora looks around, sees every other cop in the homicide division still staring at Five. Thank god the captain is out at a meeting today, she thinks. “Okay, the show’s over, folks, let’s get back to work!”

She waits a minute, watching everyone slowly get back into their work, before going to follow Diego.

Anytime he needs to make calls he goes out to the old stairwell that has surprisingly decent reception. It’s too narrow for two way traffic, so most people avoid it, which is why Diego prefers it over the roof or the break room.

She opens the door to the stairwell slowly, peeking in she sees Diego sitting on a step, hunched over, palms pressed to his eyes.

“Hey,” she whispers, trying not to surprise him. Her efforts fall short, as he shoots up, hands falling away from his eyes and sniffs. His face is wet, eyes red.

“Oh hey, Patch,” he says. “I called fucking Luther of all people - figured he was the only one physically strong enough to carry Five out of here. He was busy though, so Ben is coming to get him.”

Eudora nods, closing the stairwell door behind her as she goes to squeeze in next to Diego on the step. It’s a tight fit.

He refuses to look at her, an occasional sniffle still sneaking out of his body.

“So, Fidel, huh?” She asks, not having planned to find Diego crying.

He lets out a garbled laugh. “Yeah, I wanted his name to be Spanish, you know, keep heritage or whatever. But then he refused to learn Spanish, and then we got into a fight when he was five, and since then he refused to go by anything besides that: Five.”

“He’s pretty stubborn.” She says, trying to be diplomatic. Diego nods, and for a minute Eudora thinks it’ll all be okay.

But then another sob wracks it way through Diego’s body and he chokes up, “C-c-could you leave me a-alone, please?”

“Yeah, bud, yeah, let me know if you need anything.” She says, almost relieved to leave this situation.

Ten minutes later, Diego comes - eyes red, face damp - to unlock Five’s handcuffs as he passes his son to Ben.

He sits down at his desk, takes a deep breath, and goes back to work until seven pm when he goes home.

It becomes another thing that no one talks to him about.

--

Eudora never realized that in all her years of knowing Diego, she’s never been to his house.

They’re on their way back from a crime scene when Diego mentions he lives in the area, and Hey, do you mind if we stop by for a minute, I forgot my flash drive on my bedside table, and suddenly Eudora is waiting for Diego to unlock the door to an apartment.

She doesn’t know what to expect. She knows his family is loaded, but she half expected him to live in an abandoned warehouse that doubled as an underground boxing ring. The apartment building that he lives in seems nice, nicer than most single cops with his salary could get (the perks of inheritance, she supposes), but it isn’t obnoxiously expensive. The halls could do with a fresh coat of paint, and Diego has to jiggle the doorknob just right to unlock the door.

“Come on in,” he says, after the door is open, “You want coffee, water?”

“Uh, just water,” she replies, looking around the entrance way. Against the wall there’s a neat row of Converse, Nikes and combat boots next to equally neat pairs of Birkenstocks, runners and leather shoes. The size difference is almost comical.

The entrance gives way to the living room, where a comfortable, but worn looking sofa and armchair sit around a chipped coffee table in front of a tv. There’s some complicated looking textbooks on the table, and the bookshelves surrounding the tv seems to be half books and half knickknacks.

Diego returns from the kitchen with a glass of water for Eudora, and says, “Just give me a minute,” before going down the hall to what Eudora is presuming is his bedroom.

She takes a sip and looks around the living room. There are more pictures on the walls than she would have presumed Diego would allow. Family photos, clearly taken before Five was born, with Diego smiling plastically with his siblings, his father looking regal and harsh, his mother beautiful and sweet. Photos of him as a teenager with Klaus and Ben, grinning with beers in their hands. Pictures of him with medals from a swimming competition, hair plastered to his face, huddled in a hoodie. He looked softer than she expected him to look as a teenager, somehow. Then she spots the pictures of Five.

The newer the photos are, the happier Diego looks in them. There’s a photo taken just last year, judging by the sling on Diego’s arm - an injury he gotten while trying to force a door open - showing him grinning wide next to a straight-faced Five, holding a trophy. A picture of Five at maybe age twelve, him scowling at Diego’s hand on his shoulder, Diego himself smiling softly. Five sitting on a swing, around age ten with a slight grin on his face, Diego looking tired but content. Then there’s the older pictures on the bookshelf. Pictures of a grinning toddler and a frowning Diego, pictures of Diego holding a bundled up baby, surrounded by his siblings who look awkward, his mother who looks as sweet as always, and a father who looks smug. Pictures of Five alone, playing with blocks and laughing.

Still no picture of a mother, Eudora notes. Only Diego’s family, or Diego himself. She wonders where the mom must have run off to if her absence was agreed upon or a surprise.

She finishes her water, and Diego comes out from the bedroom with a lanyard with a bunch of USB sticks hanging from it. He locks his apartment when they leave, and Eudora doesn’t ask any questions about Five’s mom. It wouldn’t be polite.

--

Five is nearly finished reading his latest library book when he hears a sharp knock on the door, the only warning he gets before it swings open.

“You know the point of knocking is to wait for the person to say ‘come in’.” Five turns the page without looking up.

“Nah, it’s to let the person know that someone is coming in,” Diego replies. He sets down a bowl of strawberries on Five’s bedside table, grabbing the empty mug instead. “Good book?"

Five hums, eyes still glued to the page.

“‘Yes, Diego, it is a good book, thank you for bringing me food,’” Diego says in a comically high pitched voice.

Five grumbles, but Diego laughs and leaves the room. When he hears the door shut, Five looks up and glances at the bowl beside him. He reaches over, grabs the biggest one and takes a bite out of it. It’s sweet and the juice runs down his palm, making him scramble as to not get it on the pages of his book.

He brings an empty bowl out later, and he talks to Diego about his book for an hour.

--

Eudora gets a Twitter notification before Diego gets the phone call. It’s sad, that school catching on fire, but it’s doesn’t seem relevant to bring it up in conversation. She doesn’t even think about the fact that she’s only ever seen Five in a private school uniform.

They’re just driving, patrolling an area where a witness apparently saw a suspect, even though they both know it’s a dead end. Eudora is behind the wheel since Diego said he wanted to be able to look over the witness statement as they drove.

Diego’s phone keeps vibrating in his pocket, so finally, he picks it up with an irritated, “What?”

Eudora looks over just in time to see his face fall.

“What? When? What do you mean- Is Five- What do you mean you don’t know? What- Fine, okay!” He hangs up almost frantic.

“What was that about?” Eudora asks, almost amused.

“Five’s school caught on fire, and they can't find him, but I know he’s there because I dropped him off this morning, and I need to get there right now,” Diego says all in one breath, looking like he’s a second away from crying.

“Oh damn,” Eudora says, flipping on the sirens and running through a light.

They’re at Five’s school in less than ten minutes, Diego spending the whole time nearly working himself into a panic attack. Eudora pulls up as close as she can to the school, it already surrounded by other parents and emergency vehicles, and before she’s even parked, Diego is jumping out of the car, sprinting towards the crowd of people.

He does his best to push through the crowd without knocking anyone over. After a few minutes of struggle, he manages to break through to the front of the crowd, where all the ambulances and school children who haven’t been picked up yet are waiting.

“Five! Five!” Diego calls out, making a few heads turn. He doesn’t see him, so he’s about to keep moving when he hears a garbled whine.

Diego’s head whips around, finally spotting Five sitting on the back of an ambulance, an oxygen mask strapped to his face, struggling against the paramedic who’s trying to keep him still. Diego dashes over to him.

“Five, oh my god, Five, are you okay?” He asks him desperately, hands shooting out to hold his face.  Five lets out another whine, and Diego realizes his arm and shoulder are wrapped with gauze and bandages.

“Oh, Five,” Diego says softly, making sure not to put too much pressure on him as he wrapped Five into a hug. He half expects Five to struggle and push him away, but instead, Five just presses closer and takes in a shaky breath.

And then he starts to cry.

“D-D-D-” Five starts to choke out, and Diego just shushes him and pets his hair, “Dad, I w-was scared, and - and - and there was smoke and-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Diego interrupts, hearing Five’s voice get more brittle, more gasps for air in between words. “It’s okay now, I’m here, Dad’s here, Five.”

Five nods his head shakily and takes another gasping breath.

After a few minutes, Five calms down enough to extract himself from Diego’s chest, face red and blotchy, tears still glistening on his cheeks. The paramedic tells Diego that Five got minor burns, but they aren’t serious, shouldn’t even scar, but that he should still take Five to the hospital, just to make sure everything is fine.

He removes the oxygen mask from Five’s face, and instantly Five is back to clinging to Diego like his life depends on it. Gingerly, Diego wraps his arms around his son and lifts him up, Five’s skinny legs locking like a vice around his hips.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you to a hospital,” Diego whispers.

“Do we have to, dad?” Five asks, “I’m tired.”

“I know, kid, but you can sleep in the car.” He says, before remembering that Eudora drove him. He looks around and finds her in the crowd. She stands awkwardly, not knowing if she should stand away from blubbering families, or if she should get closer to Diego.

Diego walks somewhat awkwardly, trying not to jostle Five too much.

“Hey, Patch, you think you could drive us to a hospital?” He asks, although he already knows she’ll say yes. As expected Eudora nods and starts to show him to where she hastily parked on the sidewalk. They make a brief detour to let a random school official know that Diego is taking Five to a hospital, so they don’t have to keep calling him.

Eudora opens the backdoor to the car for Diego and is only slightly surprised when instead of depositing Five in the back and climbing into the front seat, Diego gingerly sits down in the back, still holding Five in his arms. He rearranges Five’s skinny body so that he sits across Diego’s lap.

“Seatbelt,” Diego mutters, making Five sighs as he helps to buckle it across the two of them.

Five falls asleep on the cautious drive to the hospital, waking up periodically to cough. Occasionally Eudora peeks at them through the rear view mirror, sees Diego rub circles on Five’s back or whispering to him softly. She also feels embarrassed to see these acts of affection, like a voyeur or a peeping tom, given how cold and distant Diego and Five tend to act towards each other in public.

Eudora pulls up to the hospital and she has to help Diego out of the car since he doesn’t want to wake up his sleeping child.

“You know, he’s almost cute when he’s sleeping,” Diego jokes quietly, as he does his best to get a grip on Five’s legs.

Eudora laughs, but it’s tense. She agrees with the statement, but it’s hard to make a quip back when she can see the bandages around the kid’s arm getting darker with plasma and blood. They stand awkwardly for a moment.

“Do you think you could also call the captain and just let him know why I won’t be back at the station today?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, totally,” Eudora says quickly, already dreading the conversation.

Diego smiles, “Thanks, Patch, I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Another moment of silence.

“So, yeah, uh, thanks.” And then Diego is off, walking towards the automatic doors.

Eudora waits until the two of them have disappeared behind layers of glass, before getting into the car and driving back to the station. Diego takes three more days off of work but no one has the gall to bring it up when he comes back.

--

Beaman feels like he’s dying after Diego walked him through his normal work out. He mentioned wanting to switch gyms, and Diego offered to show him his usual routine.

“Holy shit, no wonder you look like that,” he pants out, making Diego laugh. Beaman decides that dignity isn’t worth it, and hunches over, hands on knees as he takes deep breaths.

“You get used to it.” He says, simply, though there’s still sweat running down his face. He lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face.

And Beaman doesn’t mean to stare, but he was looking in that direction anyway, and he’s pretty sure Diego just did that to show off his abs, but then Beaman is face to face with yet another scar and holy shit-

“How’d you get that one?” His mouth asks before his brain can tell him not to. Diego makes a confused noise. Beaman jerks his head in the general direction of Diego’s stomach.

“That one.” He’s looking at the long vertical scar, going right up his stomach. It looks old, in some lights it probably isn’t noticeable at all, but with the rest, Diego’s skin bright and sweaty, the darker, somewhat crooked line stands out starkly.

“Oh,” Diego looks down and quickly drops his shirt. For once he seems awkward talking about it, “It’s from a surgery I had a long time ago. It didn't go well. I don’t want to talk about it.”

The terseness of his reply takes Beaman off guard, but he quickly recovers, nods, and says, “Fair enough.”

He still finds it strange, though, how open Diego is about every other mark on his body, but he won’t push it.

Especially not after Diego showed him how hard he could punch.

--

“Hey, Diego,” Eudora starts before she thinks better. They’re at a bar, celebrating closing a case, and she’s probably drunken more than her fair share, but then Diego offered to pay for the next round and it wouldn’t be polite to decline, even though the question she’s about to ask is anything other than rude, “Diego!”

“What?” He laughs a bit at her slurring, taking another sip of beer.

“Where’s Five’s mom?”

Diego just about chokes on his drink. “What?”

“Where is Five’s mom?” She asks, slower and louder.

“Why do you need to know?” Diego frowns.  

“I’m just wonderin’,” she says, “Just ‘cause you’re always taking care of him, and you haven’t dated anyone in a while, so I was just wondering-”

“He doesn’t need a mom,” Diego cuts her off, almost angry, “He has me.”

“I’m not accusing you, or anything,” Eudora says, even though just saying that makes it sound worse, “Like, I said, I was just curious about her.”

For some reason, that comment seems to upset him more.

“Five doesn’t need a mom, he doesn’t need another dad, I’m his parent, his dad. We don’t need anyone else.” Diego almost growls out. He’s gathering his things before Eudora has a chance to backtrack or apologize, and before she knows it he’s gone.

The next morning Eudora' s head is killing her and she narrowly avoids vomiting while brushing her teeth. Her memory of the night previous is fuzzy, but she remembers enough to know that she clearly hit a nerve and was out of line.

She walks into work wearing sunglasses and carrying two coffees. She silently sets one down on Diego’s desk, earning a raised eyebrow from him.

At lunchtime, he tells her that Five got in trouble at school for talking back to a teacher, and the only reason why they haven’t kicked him out is that his marks are so good he brings up the curve of every class he’s in. He looks at her, almost as if testing to see what her reaction is.

Eudora hums. “Well, I’m sure you have it under control.”

Diego looks at her for another second, then shrugs, before telling her about a show he saw a few nights ago.

Eudora figures that means she passed.

--

Shockingly, it isn’t a knife or a bullet or a hammer or even a machete that lands Diego into the hospital this time; it’s a car. Arguably it’s the most normal injury anyone in the homicide division can recall Diego being the victim of. He was doing surveillance on the street when the suspect got spooked and decided to drive off - right into Diego. He keeps repeating that it’s not a big deal, even after he has his leg in a cast and a doctor telling him that he should stay in the hospital for a few days so that they can check his ribs and head.

Eudora and Beaman decide to wait until his family show up when Diego turns to them with a wince and says, “I need to call Five, can I have a phone?”

Beaman phone is in his hand so he just passes it over. Diego types in a number and winces again as he puts the phone again his ear.

“Hey, kiddo- I know, I know, you don’t like being called that. Someone called you, right? Yeah, I’m in the hospital. No, I’m not dying, don’t sound so excited. Listen, before you come - because you are going to visit me, you little sociopath - can you grab some stuff for me at home? Yeah, clothes, stuff like that, I also need you to get my, uh, stuff out of the bathroom. Under the sink. I’m supposed to do it today, but they wanna keep me here for a bit and I just don’t wanna get off track again. Thanks. If you call Ben or Klaus they might be able to drive you here. You’ll just take the bus? Okay, see you later.” He hangs up and passes the phone back to Beaman.

It’s less than an hour later when Five walks into the hospital room carrying a backpack. He’s out of his school uniform, but he’s still wearing a button up shirt under a cardigan.

He nods at the detectives when they say, “Hello, Five.”

Five looks at Diego and snorts, “Getting fragile, old man?”

“Shut up,” Diego says, groaning when he sits up. “Did you bring my stuff?”

“When you say it like that it makes it sound illegal.” Five says, drily, as he unzips the backpack. He pulls out a first kit, and Eudora is about to ask why Diego needed a first aid kit in a hospital when Five unzips that as well and pulls out a needle.

He walks over to Diego, who immediately looks uncomfortable.

“Can you move this gown without scarring my eyes?” Five prompts and Diego nods and moves it to the side, revealing his stomach and that long scar that is oh so visible in the harsh, hospital lighting.

Five takes the cap off the needle, and Diego closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Three, two, one,” Five counts down, before plunging the needle into Diego’s stomach. He slowly injects the contents of it, Diego holding his breath the whole time. After a few seconds, Five removes the needle, walking over to the biohazard disposal box on the walls.

“I should have brought all the other ones and just thrown them out here.” He comments, before going back to the first aid kit and pulling out an alcohol wipe and a bandaid.

Beaman clears his throat, “Um, what was that?”

“What was what?” Five asks, passing the items to Diego.

“What was up with that, that needle?” Eudora asks.

Five raises an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“What was in it?” Eudora presses on, undeterred by Five’s tone, which suggests he thinks she’s an idiot.

“Testosterone.” Diego supplies, just as Five’s opening his mouth.

That only prompts more questions.

“Why are you taking testosterone?” Beaman asks before his eyes widen. “Oh my god, is it for your boxing? Are you doping”

Five scoffs, but Diego ignores him. “No, it’s totally legal, I have a prescription.”

“Why?” Eudora asks.

“Uh, because I have to, otherwise my body will change back to what it was before.” He looks at the confused faces of his friends. “I’m trying to tell you I’m trans, but I guess it isn’t working.”

Eudora and Beaman gape for a few seconds.

“Can I leave? This is weird for me.” Five interrupts, clearly not caring about the revelations going on inside the room. Diego rolls his eyes.

“You can wait outside.”

“I’m going to the cafeteria.” Five says, not waiting for an agreement before he leaves.

For a few seconds, the room is silent.

“So,” Eudora starts, “You’re trans?”

“Yes.”

“And this never came up before because..?”

“Because it was never relevant and I didn’t want you to know.” His face is unsympathetic when a brief wave of hurt crosses their faces. “It isn’t against you or because I thought negatively about you or anything, it’s just really personal and I don’t like a lot of people knowing about.”

“Is this why you don’t date?” Beaman asks before he seems to catch what he said. “Sorry.”

“I mean, partially. Part of me not dating is also because I’m a cop, and part of it is because of Five.”

Another wave of silence comes across the room.

“And Five is…?” Eudora starts, hoping Diego will understand what she’s asking.

“Five is my kid. I had him when I was sixteen, as in I gave birth to him. Well, actually I had a real nasty c-section because he was upside down. His other dad fucked off somewhere, I don’t care and neither does he.”

The two of them nod.

“Not to be rude, but does Five act the way he does because of… this?” Beaman asks carefully.

Diego snorts. “No, you’re not the first one to ask. He acts like that because he’s a dick, I love him but he is, and he spent the first five-ish years of his life in a house with my siblings and father. So, he was bound to get kind of messed up, I just didn’t think it would result in so many goddamn suspensions."

Beaman and Eudora ask a few more questions before they lapse into a new silence. Five comes back with a cup of coffee that makes him pull a face every time he takes a sip.

“No one is holding a gun to your head, you don’t have to drink that,” Diego says after Five nearly gags into the cup.

“Fuck you, Diego, I do what I want.” He eyes Diego’s cast, “And you can’t stop me.”

It’s almost comical how only a few minutes later Five is fluffing Diego’s pillow before saying, “I’m going home now.”

“Want a ride?” Eudora asks, police brain switching on, viewing Five not as her friend’s son who could probably talk his way out of a mugging, but as a skinny minor, walking through the streets of New York in the late evening.

Five eyes her for a moment, before saying, “Okay.”

They say their farewells to Diego, him making Five promise to go to school the next day.

Eudora isn’t sure what she intends to accomplish or attain from giving Five a ride to his house. Mostly he’s quiet in the backseat, occasionally giving directions, even though Eudora knows her way to Diego’s apartment.

“So, how’s school?” Beaman tries, the silence suffocating him.

“I know Diego tells you how it’s going, you don’t have to ask.” Well, that didn’t work.

They’re almost at Diego’s house, and the curiosity is eating away at Eudora.

“Hey, Five,” She asks. Five hums, looking out the window. “Why don’t you call Diego ‘dad’?”

“Why would I?” Is his response, which throws her for a loop.

“Because he’s your father?”

“The terms mom and dad are possessive terms that came out of the middle class, nuclear family dynamic; a dynamic that I did not grow up with and one that I continue to not be a part of.” He looks over and makes eye contact with her through the mirror, “Besides, what teenager wants to be called ‘dad’?”

Eudora struggles to find a response, but Five presses on. “Diego and my’s relationship is fine, regardless of how unconventional it is. I grew up in a house full of weird fucking people, but Diego was still the only one who could - or at least tried to - raise me. He taught me how to tie my shoes, and read, and gut a fish, and drive, and shave, and how to dress myself. Any deviations from the norm are intentional. If you think something is wrong with the way I act or the way he raises me then you can keep it to yourself, because someone already called social services once and that was a really weird month for everyone involved.”

“I think,” Beaman butts in, “that as long as both of you are happy, then there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Five seems satisfied with that answer and looks out the window again.

Something clicks in Eudora mind. “Wait, did you say he taught you how to drive? You’re fourteen!”

--

After that, not much changes. Diego goes back to work but is put on desk duty until his cast is off. He still keeps a lot of things private, doesn’t brag about Five’s accomplishments or put pictures of him on his desk. But one day Diego invites Eudora and Beaman over for dinner, saying something about how Five was staying at a friend’s house to work on a project so he was planning on drinking and watching movies.

They have a good time, nothing crazy happens, but when Eudora gets up to get another beer from the fridge she looks over at the bookshelf in the living room and sees all the old pictures of Five. Five smiling with building blocks, the grinning toddler and the frowning teenager. And in the front is a new addition.

Right in the front, in a new frame, even though the actual picture looks worn as if someone's touched it a lot over the years, is, what Eudora is guessing, the first picture of Five ever.

Still pink and slimy, Five is in a blanket, gazing up at a sweaty, tired looking Diego. He looks young, younger than sixteen, but that might be due to the look of confusion and anxiety on his face. He still looks muscular, but his face is softer, and Eudora can see the clear signs of breasts under the hospital gown. His siblings are crowded around the hospital bed, all smiling stiffly at the camera, and Diego’s mother has her hand on Diego’s shoulder.

Eudora remembers what Diego said about not feeling anything when Five was born, and it may be because she’s tipsy, and she’s seen Diego give Five hugs goodbye, and texting him in the morning to remind him to have breakfast, and calling him to let him know that he went grocery shopping so his favourite chips are in the cupboard, but Eudora begs to differ that he felt nothing.

Because despite looking tired, and sweaty, and confused, and anxious, he’s smiling. Not like his siblings are smiling, not like he’s only smiling because someone told him to, but he’s smiling the way he does Five forgets to tell him off for calling him ‘kid’, or when Five hugs him back, or when Five says ‘thank you’ without being told. There are smiles specifically reserved for Five, Eudora has realized, and in that picture, she sees the first one ever.

[forkocharles-blog]

What happened to that curly haired little boy I used to know?

What happened you ask? You really want to know what happened? After at least sixteen years, but you seem to think about me like how I was when I was eight, so split the difference and call it nineteen years, so after nineteen years you're finally concerned about me? About how I am now? Fine. Let's talk about the little curly haired boy you used to know.

That little curly haired boy moved to a different country when he was ten. He had never been on a plane before, but he loved it. Except that he got a little bit sick on the landings. His dad taught him how to fish while he was in that foreign country. It became one of his favorite things to do because he could spend time with his dad. That little boy got his first computer. He picked up a joy of reading. Of riding bikes. He took karate lessons. He got the chicken pox. He learned to play the trumpet.

That little boy moved again. He spent time with his grandma for a while before he moved, but that had to end and ended too soon. He was across country on an island in the middle of the ocean. He learned how to skateboard. He went through a hurricane. He learned about skater culture and nature. He became first chair trumpet and learned what it was like to hate a teacher.

He moved back to the desert he was living in before you met him. Or at least before he met you. It was the first time he realized what leaving a friend was but held out hope that they would meet again because it's a small world right? He made friends. Deep friends. Friends forever friends. He suffered disappointment at not making the basketball team. He had his first feelings for a girl. Deep feelings. But he couldn't separate those from lust and he couldn't talk to girls, so he passed them notes and got laughed at. He learned he sucked at the trumpet but was great at the tuba. He learned that band kids were considered geeks. He was made fun of. He learned he wasn't cool. He learned that he was an outsider. But he found music and hobbies that resonated with him. To his core. He learned computers through those hobbies. He became a Christian. Albeit a fearful one.

He moved again and finally, for the first time, felt the weight of loss of friends. He couldn't just make new ones to replace them. But he could make new friends. He made new friends through video games. Through a love of the same TV shows. And because the girl in the seat near him was painfully extroverted. He made many friends but was still an outsider. He learned what it was to not be black enough. To talk white. To lose respect among your peers for succeeding and to have a teacher truly have it out for you. But he also knew what it was to gain respect from those that mattered for being you. He had his first relationship. He didn't handle it well. He had his first break up. He didn't handle that well either. He learned that friends will betray your trust, but that those that betray your trust aren't your friends. But he didn't have his music to fall back on because the school didn't have a band program.

He graduated high school. He invited you. You didn't come. That's fine. You were busy. A gift, a card, or a phone call would have been nice though. He also got into college. Picked the easiest one he could get into but still. 3.7 out of 4.0 GPA and 1380 out of 1600 on the SAT. It was a proud moment.

In college he got his first job. It was seasonal and he was not hired on full time. That was fine though. He joined a club. He met friends through that club. It was a nerdy club but he felt at home. He found out that he loved nerdy things. He fell in with a not great crowd through his club. He started drinking under age. He also got food poisoning.

He got another job though. He was able to save up money for his brother's high school graduation gift. He bought his brother a graduation gift. So did you. And cards. It was upsetting but I got it. Graduation was a foregone conclusion for me and not so much him. And you were always really close with him. I gave him my gift. I love my brother.

I fell in love. It caused a lot of drama though. A guy wanted to fight me because I “stole his girlfriend”, but that isn't at all what happened. In fact we didn't start dating for a year after they broke up. He was a shit head though so fuck him. I was president of my club for two and a half years. I dated this girl for 5 months. Maybe six. Lost my virginity at age 21. Whatever. Broke up with her when she went off to another college. Hurt her, hurt me. I was an ass hole.

Coasted into a pseudo-relationship. I was really drunk and really high. She made out with me. Didn't last a week. We maybe had sex. I don't know. I was drunk and high. Those years are kind of a blur to me because I was basically in class, playing Magic: The Gathering, drunk and/or high. I worked the same shitty job through the rest of undergrad.

At the end of undergrad, found a girl I liked. Went on a date with her. Got drunk. Fucked it up. Sought out a shrink. Found another girl. Took up D&D. She broke up with me. I got drunk and threatened suicide. I sought out a shrink again. She told me call the suicide hotline if I ever wanted to talk. Didn't have to want to commit suicide. Never wanted to in the first place to be honest. Ex dates my “best” friend after a week. I knew he liked her. Asked him to wait a month before dating her. He didn't. He also actively broke us up. He is a dick. I called the suicide hotline. I got picked up by the police and brought to a mental hospital. I do not blame the suicide hotline. They are helpful. I blame my shrink for telling me, a heavy drinker, to stop drinking in a time of emotional turmoil and to call the suicide hotline to talk even though I had threatened suicide before. A large part of that is on me though. I was an asshole and too proud to get help. Please get help if you need it. It probably did save my life.

Anyway. Almost failed a semester. Doctor's notes saved me. Got on anti-depressants. Be warned, they will help you A LOT, but there was a period of a couple months where I had no motivation at all. That's why I almost failed. Failed one class. Retook it. Got an A.

Got into grad school. 3.0 GPA, 1380 GRE. Kept same shitty job from undergrad, but looked for others. Found real group of friends. Love them to death. Got into board games and table top RPGs even more. Had shitty roommates in an apartment that stole my shit or got it stolen. Stopped trusting people. Never got a card or call or anything for graduating college. Neither did my sister for graduating. Explained a lot. Though to be fair I didn't get her anything for graduation either. I didn't know her well enough and I was broke.

I got fired from my shitty job, hired on to another, and fired after three months. I missed a lot of days because of dentistry and I play a lot of computer games because the job was bullshit. I drank a lot during that time, but I got a better handle on it. I stopped drinking hard liquour and started drinking beer. Almost exclusively.

I moved to Utah. I started blogging about beer. I started drinking too much again because Utah kind of sucks. I loved my coworkers though. And I had friends. Not close friends but they were there. I started going to the anime club at the local college and started playing board games and table top RPGs with them. I cut back on my drinking because life was a bit easier.

Until I got furloughed. I worked for the government and lost 20% of my pay for 11 weeks. I maxed out all of my credit cards just to live. So I started looking for, and found, a better job.

I moved back to Florida. Kept blogging about beer. But I was making enough money that I had alternative choices to drinking myself into oblivion to entertain myself. Also I was closer to my family. Until they moved across the country. It was my fault because my mom was trying to transfer to be closer to me in Utah, but she kept the transfer so she could help my grandma.

That hit me kind of hard, but I liked where I lived so I just grabbed my stuff out of their garage and took it with me. I moved later, but that doesn't matter much.

I made a friend who had a baby and grew to love their baby. I dated women and it didn't work out. But the one thing that got to me is that I joined a beer club and missed a meeting I really wanted to go to. Because of anxiety. Because you probably don't know but I have a phobia of vomiting and it got bad to the point that I would leave home with a stomachache. It upped my drinking which made the phobia worse. I told my doctor and found a shrink and now the medicine and the therapy is helping a lot. I drink more than I should but I am trying.

But you know what? You didn't see that. You saw someone failing to live up to your expectations. I will, and did, admit that I drank to much at your Christmas Eve party. I was belligerent. I was an asshole. But I was also in an uncomfortable situation that was hitting my anxiety on all levels and I told you about that and you didn't care. You weren't there for me. I also woke up perfectly fine on Christmas, but you didn't tell me when dinner was. I was an hour and a half late to Christmas dinner.

Then after we got back to your place, you confronted me about drinking too much at your Christmas Eve party. Saying you didn't know me. That you couldn't stand me.

Well guess what. It's true. You don't know me. If you did, you probably wouldn't be able stand me. But don't you dare for a fucking second try to put that on me. You had every fucking chance in the world to try to get to know me. To be there for me. And you absolutely weren't. So until you are ready to get to know me. The real me. And to accept me. Good bye.

PS: You can claim that you have gay friends all you want but while your husband is a homophobic church pastor and your friends are similarly homophobic, I will never believe you.