#but i worked on this for some two weeks and learned a LOT

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 1]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 15.5k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Off screen gang violence including gun use. Implied intention of non-con in discussion. Mentions of skipping meals/poor diet/nutrition. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Homelessness due to running away and associated issues; lack of money/food/water etc. Mentions of past forced sex work. 🐢Summary: “In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 2 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Tears. It’s always tears when you need silence. When you’re trying to sleep. When you’re trying to keep you both safe. It’s always tears.

“Shhh, Channie, shhh, it’s okay,” you try to soothe your little brother through a sensory meltdown that was triggered minutes ago by the overwhelming noises of yelling and gunfire echoing deafeningly around the warehouse.

You thought it would be safe here. The place seemed abandoned, yet secure, with no broken windows to let in the breeze, nor any sign of recent human activity, only some stray animals and their leavings. But it was the best shot you had, and for almost a week, it had been a little slice of dirty haven for you and Chan.

Then, less than twenty minutes ago, you heard multiple cars pull up outside of the dusty warehouse and then footsteps entered the building. You had curled up protectively around your brother in the corner of a room, hidden by the shadows as the newcomers swept through the warehouse for any signs of life. Somehow they entirely missed the two of you, and you were so grateful for it, even if you remained in place, holding your brother in the shadows for a little longer, just in case.

But now, whatever meeting is happening has gone awry and the ear-splitting sounds have set off your five-year-old brother. Although you want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry too as the sounds assault your own senses, you can’t; your meltdown will have to wait until you’re both safe again.

Which won’t happen if Chan doesn’t stop screaming and thrashing, kicking out while also trying to burrow himself right into your chest to try and block the noises and gain comfort from the only person who has shown him any in a long time.

Though, there’s only so much you can do, only so much your hands pressed over his own on his ears do to block the sensory overload when you can feel the noise in your own chest, and you know that Chan has always been much more sensitive about such things.

You wish you have a pair of ear defenders for him, but your father never believed in them and Chan’s mother was perhaps even worse where caring about the poor boy was concerned, so he was never given the tools needed to support him. And your limited finances upon running away with your little brother have gone to keeping him fed and as warm as possible. There have been no spare pennies for such things, even with you skipping meals and sacrificing supplies for yourself in order to protect your brother.

All you can do is hope that it will be over soon and the gangsters, who have intruded upon your safe space, will rapidly leave without hearing Chan’s shrieking.

Of course, with your luck today, it doesn’t go how you hope.

Even before the yelling and gunfire has ceased, the door swings open and a couple of men enter with guns raised. It’s easy for them to locate you with Chan still screaming and kicking out at everything he can reach.

“What do we have here?” The slighter shorter of the two men smirks while eyeing you and your brother as the pair stop too close for comfort, yet still far enough away that your brother’s thrashing doesn’t reach them.

“Something pretty, and something pretty fucking annoying,” the other man retorts, making the first guffaw while you continue to try to soothe Chan and keep him still without removing your eyes from the dangerous men. “Think we got time to take turns?”

“Nah, even if we did, I won’t be able to enjoy it with the little shit screaming like that.”

“Knock him out.”

“Don’t even joke about hurting a kid ‘round here,” the shorter man warns, giving his partner a firm look. “Boss would kill you slowly if word got back to him. You know he’s protective of kids.”

“Then what the fuck do we do? We can’t kill the bitch either because he don’t like kids left behind, and I’m pretty sure we’re fucked if they find out we left them here.”

The two men stare at you and Chan in careful consideration for almost a full minute.

The answer only comes when the gunfire finally ceases, even if Chan doesn’t stop screaming yet. “We’ll have to take them with us.”

As much as you’d rather not go along with the two men, or the dozen or so other men with them, you know you don’t have a choice. If it’s only you who you have to worry about, you’d have already risked sneaking out while the showdown was in progress, but with Chan to consider, you can’t risk the gunfire being turned on you.

So, when the pair stalk you out of the safety of the room with Chan still wailing against your chest as you carry him, though luckily he’s now clinging to you and not wildly thrashing, and a gun pressed to your back, you go while mourning the items you’ve lost due to not being able to pack up anything. The men had only hovered long enough to let you pick up Chan and grab your backpacks.

Up until you’re in the car with another man sliding into the seat to your left while looking bewildered, you have no idea who these gangsters are, but this new man has his arms on show despite the cold weather and the centaur tattoo on his right bicep stares at you mockingly.

Today really isn’t your lucky day.

“What’s this?” He demands, almost glaring at the two men in the front of the car while motioning vaguely to you and your little brother.

“Found them in a room, kid was screaming the place down, this is quiet for him,” the driver, the shorter of the pair, replies, tone almost polite now and you can safely guess that this tall, muscled man is a much higher rank than them. “Didn’t know what to do with them considering the rules about kids and everything.”

“So, you decided to completely bypass me and make a decision on your own?” The tall man asks, now closing the car door behind him and reaching for his seatbelt, yet he stops and motions to the space between you two. “Put him there so he can be strapped in,” he says to you, already grabbing the seatbelt for the middle seat ready to pull over.

“What?” You mutter dumbly.

“This car isn’t going anywhere until we’re all strapped in securely and it’s unsafe for a child to be strapped in on your lap. Put him here so he can be safe between us, I’ll keep my arm in front of him so he can’t fall.”

“He can sit next to the door,” you reply and start to move over into the centre yourself, but the man makes a dismissive noise and shakes his head.

“No, if that door gets rammed, he’ll get seriously injured; he should go in the middle, so our bodies protect him.”

“How likely is it that we’ll get rammed?”

“More likely than you realise, especially if the ones we just met have back up waiting down the way.”

“Then just let us go.”

He sighs. “I wish I could, seriously, I don’t want to endanger your son, but those idiots are right in that leaving you is a bad idea, we can’t trust you. So, either you willingly put him down or I move him myself and I think that would just make him more upset.”

For a few seconds, you do nothing but stare at the man, hoping that he’ll suddenly decide to trust a complete stranger and let you go, but he doesn’t, and you reluctantly adjust Chan to sit him at your left side between the two of you.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you whisper as you press down on his legs to stop him from trying to climb onto your lap again. “I’m not leaving, we just need to strap in, okay? We’re going to strap in and go for a drive, okay, Squirt?”

Silently, the man manoeuvres the safety belt across Chan’s body and clicks it into place as you continue to soothe your little brother. Then, the man reaches over even further to plug your seat belt in before finishing with his own and kicking the back of the driver’s seat lightly to prompt him to start the car.

Thankfully, Chan calms down once the car is in motion and you’ve pulled out his comfort turtle plushie for him to squeeze to his chest repeatedly.

You know the man on Chan’s left is watching your brother as he almost hurts himself with the toy, but you don’t care, all you care about is that Chan’s self-soothing is working and isn’t hurting him. The man can think whatever he wants.

The location you’re taken to isn’t one you’ve ever been to before, yet nobody needs to speak the name for you to know that this large, sprawling estate fortified with three sets of tall gates and walls, plus guards, is the base of the Centaurs, the oldest still running gang in the country.

The whereabouts of the estate isn’t a secret, it’s easy information to get, but due to the sheer size of the gang and their legendary skills, especially of the leaders and head family, not even the authorities are brave enough to launch an attack. Though some over-cocky gangs have been dumb enough to try over the years and inevitably failed without making it past even the first wall.

The place truly is one of the most secure places in the entire country. It almost puts military compounds to shame with the levels of security covering the sprawling grounds.

It feels more like a village based on how long you remain in the car once past the first two sets of gates, and all the buildings and people you pass on the gravel roads.

Then, when the final wall is in view, you’re moved into another car, with only the tall man joining you after he’s talked to another man a little shorter than himself. The tall man doesn’t say a word once he’s in the driver’s seat after making sure you and Chan are strapped in, before driving further forward along the gravel roads and through the final gates.

Finally, you see the impressive, impeccably well-kept, grand building that is Choi Manor where it sits pride of place in the very centre of the estate, behind all three walls.

There are nowhere near as many people wandering around now. It seems more like you only see groundsmen maintaining all the greenery and plant life, turning the area within the final wall into something almost out of a fairy tale. It’s truly beautiful.

Chan peers out of the window as best as he can when he can barely see over the edge of the door, with his wide, red rimmed eyes staring at all the colours of the flowers and fruits in awe. He’s never seen so many different plants in one place, in fact, you would even go as far as to say he’s never seen so many plants full stop.

Your own family home was never this natural; your father preferred to do away with nature to save the hassle of having to have people tend to it. The closest was the greenhouse your father let you keep for yourself for a few years before Chan was even born, until your father’s new wife destroyed it in a jealous fit when he didn’t buy her the car she wanted. Never mind the fact that she never learned to drive.

“Okay, so, a few things,” the tall man states when he parks the car beside a handful of other similar cars in front of the extravagant home. He turns off the engine and unplugs his seatbelt so that he can turn around in his seat to face you directly. “The boss isn’t home right now and won’t be until late, and I obviously can’t let you wander around unattended, so you’re going to be locked in one of the guest rooms with someone outside your door until the boss is back and decides what to do next. Understood?” You just nod.

Honestly, it’s a lot better than expected; you assumed you’d be locked up in a storage room or something equally as unwelcoming, not a guest bedroom of the most lavish home you’ve ever seen outside of movies and TV shows.

“Make sure you both shower and dress in clean clothes before the boss is back, you don’t want to meet him dirty. And eat, I guess you haven’t eaten in a while, right? You look skinny. I’ll get some food sent up. Does he like nuggets?” He motions vaguely to Chan.

“Nuggets?”

“Yeah, chicken nuggets. I think there’s some animal shapes, but they may be all gone; we don’t get groceries in until tomorrow.”

“Uh… he’s never had them.”

“What?” The man sputters in disbelief. “What kid has never had animal nuggets?! I’ll send out for some if we don’t have any. It’s a crime you’ve never fed your son animal nuggets, seriously.”

Despite this being the second time that he’s assumed Chan to be your son, you don’t correct him; you’re too caught up on other things to care to put the relationship between you straight. “Why would you assume I have access to things like that when we were sleeping in what I thought was an abandoned warehouse?”

“Oh…right, sorry, wasn’t thinking.” He gives you an awkward, apologetic smile before climbing out of the car.

He leaves you to unplug yourself and Chan at your own pace and climb out of the car to join him on the white gravel. Chan is immediately taken by the sound and shuffles on his feet to hear the clacking and grinding under his boots.

When you look up, you expect to see the man about to urge you on, however, he’s simply watching Chan with his head tilted a little, curious, and with the slight hint of a smile on his lips.

Surprising you further, the man patiently waits until Chan is satisfied and takes your offered hand to quietly and closely toddle alongside you behind the stranger into the huge house.

“Sorry, there’s no kid size guest slippers,” the man apologises as he puts down a pair of adult guest slippers from a section of the unit beside the shoe rack, which you don’t really pay any attention to as you’re too busy trying to remove both yours and Chan’s boots to not dirty the perfectly polished marble flooring.

Though you can’t say either of your socks are in much better condition than the soles of your shoes and embarrassedly shove your feet into the slippers before your filthy, hole-riddled socks can be seen. At least Chan’s socks are new, if dirty. Still, you pick him up quickly and hope the man hasn’t noticed the condition of your brother’s socks.

“This way.”

Quietly, you follow the man down the hall and stand outside of a room when he motions you to, allowing him to step inside alone. You hear him talking to another man in low voices for a moment, then he reappears with a slim man who is barely shorter than him, though you think if the first didn’t slouch so much he’d be even taller.

“Hello, I’m Junhui,” the new man greets you with a friendly smile, entirely throwing you off with his open, welcoming aura. “I’m the house chef so I need to know if you or your son have any allergies or dietary requirements so that I can prepare you something delicious!”

“Uhm, no allergies,” you reply and adjust Chan in your hold; he’s too big for you to easily hold him for prolonged periods now so you need to alter his place against your chest fairly frequently in order to keep supporting his weight.

Some months back, you could’ve carried him for extended lengths of time, and you often used to indulge him whenever he asked, regularly carrying him around on your back as you went about your daily life, so long as it was appropriate. But that was then; so much has changed since. Some days you can barely even hold your own body up, let alone his.

“And requirements? For any reason: belief or preference, I need to know,” the cook continues with genuine interest.

“He’s very particular about his food,” you admit and tilt your head towards Chan a little as if they won’t realise that you’re talking about him. “The plainer the better really.”

“Oh, we have one like that already,” Junhui chuckles and flaps a hand almost dismissively as if it’s nothing. “I can handle that no problem! How old is he? I need to know what portion sizes.”

“Five, almost six, but he’s never had a big appetite.”

“Oh!” Junhui and the tall man both look astonished at the information, with matching raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so small! I thought he’s more like three going on four! I’ll try to make accordingly, but if he’s still hungry, you get a message to me, and I’ll bring more; we can’t let the kids go hungry! Or mama, what about your diet?”

“Oh, uhm, don’t worry,” you try to dismiss the concern, and both men instantly look at you sternly.

“What do you eat, ma’am?” Junhui repeats firmly. “Do you have allergies?” You shake your head silently in response. “What do you usually eat?”

“Whatever he doesn’t finish,” you answer meekly, embarrassed to admit to your inability to afford to feed yourself.

But it seems as if the kind chef doesn’t quite understand. “Okay, and what else?”

“Jun,” the tall man murmurs, gently tapping the other with the back of his fingers. Junhui looks at him and the pair exchange some barely-there expressions, which you don’t have the mental energy to even try to discern the meanings of, before they both look at you and there’s now something you think must be sympathy in the cook���s eyes.

“Oh, right. Uhm, well, what do you like? I can make almost anything!” He offers, brightening back up out of his slightly awkward understanding.

“It’s okay.”

“Please just tell him what you enjoy eating so I can show you to your room,” the tall man pleads. “He’ll make us stand here all afternoon and night if you don’t.”

“I’m just grateful you’re feeding him,” you assure.

“If you don’t tell me what you enjoy eating, ma’am, I will send dish after dish to your room until one comes back empty,” Junhui warns, and something about this man tells you that he’s being entirely serious.

“J-Just you know…uhm…I uh…” your mind is suddenly blank; you can feel the stress and anxiety of the past few hours building up and threatening to break you right here in front of the strangers. The kind chef and the high-ranking member of the most famous gang in the country. You really don’t want to fall apart in front of them.

“How about you think about it, and we’ll get a message down when you’ve decided?” The tall man offers. You nod quickly in agreement. “Okay, let’s go straight to your room and Jun will send some snacks up while you think, yeah?”

“I can do snacks!” Junhui promises before turning and scuttling further down the hall.

“He really loves feeding people,” the tall man says with a little chuckle before motioning back the way you came, so you back up to let him lead the way to the entrance hall and then up the grand staircase.

The bedroom he takes you is at the back of the house and overlooks the patio with a view out over the gardens and lawn beyond, though you don’t do more than simply glance over at the large windows before focusing on the room itself.

There’s a king-sized bed against the back wall and on the opposite wall, with a fair distance in between, is a flat screen TV sitting before a plush looking loveseat and low table. You can see two doors on the wall opposite to the entrance door and assume they lead to an ensuite and walk in wardrobe, but other than that, it’s all rather empty.

“This room isn’t used that much and it’s further away from the frequently used rooms, plus below is the ballroom and well, that definitely doesn’t get used often so I thought this room would be best, because it’ll be quieter here. I guess your son is noise sensitive?”

“You care about that?” You ask shocked as you look at him and finally put Chan down on the floor to rest your arms, though he stays glued to your side despite being obviously curious as he peers around from the edges of his vision.

“Yeah, kids are important and everyone in this house and inner estate believes in that too. We’ll all do whatever we need to make your time here comfortable.”

“We’re hostages, not guests,” you remind simply.

The man winces a little. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugs helplessly. “It is what it is, I guess. I really don’t know what the boss is going to do later; we haven’t had this situation occur before so we’re all kind of clueless, but we don’t want to hurt you or your son.”

“He’s not my son,” you finally correct, not sure what else to say and look down at Chan. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh! Okay. What’s his name?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’d be nice to have something to call him. What about a nickname then?”

“He won’t talk to you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” There’s a moment of tense silence before the man talks up again. “What about you? Can I at least know a name to call you?”

For a few seconds, you debate not answering him, but then you figure the least you could do is give the man something to refer to you as, even if you refuse to give your real name. “Pearl,” you answer, giving the only name your brother calls you, after a character in his favourite movie.

You don’t know if the man realises it’s just an alias or not, but he smiles at you as if he doesn’t care and is just glad to have a name to call you. “I’m Mingyu, I’ll oversee your care until the boss is back, so if you need anything you can ask whoever is outside the door for me and I’ll come right away. For now, I’ll let you poke about the room while I get fresh bedding and towels and everything. Do you have spare clothes? I’ll get extra anyway for you both. I’ll be right back!” He darts out of the room and closes the door behind him gently, yet securely, before you can even try to answer.

“Where we?” Chan asks seconds later when he looks up at you.

“Where are we,” you correct naturally, trying to prevent his delayed speech getting worse with only you for company. It’s hard when you’re not personally used to talking to people very much, even back when you had people around to talk to. But you’re trying to do the best you can for your little brother and not impede his development further. It’s just hard.

“Where are we?” Chan repeats without hesitation, already long ago used to being corrected, though he has only ever tried to absorb and learn your own words, no-one else’s.

It’s much easier for him to progress now that his sole educator genuinely cares about him and understands his struggles. He’s come in leaps and bounds in some ways the past few months, but you know the life you’ve dragged him into won’t be good for his growth in the long run.

Every day you wish you can do better for him, but there are too many obstacles for you to traverse on your own and half the days you’re stuck in an endless loop of regret from taking him away, and relief from taking him away, with no room left in your mind and soul to do anything but stare off until Chan needs you.

“Just somewhere until we find our next move,” you answer, not sure what to say to the innocent boy because you can’t exactly tell him the truth, though you don’t want to lie to him if you can help it. You hate being lied to so you’ve always made a point of being as honest with Chan as you can. He deserves that much, at the very least.

“Mm, okay,” he replies and lets go of you to start wandering around curiously.

You remain in the middle of the room and watch him for a few minutes until there’s a knock on the door and Chan scrambles back to your side.

“It’s me!” Mingyu calls. “Mingyu!” He adds, and you call for him to come in, so the door opens and the tall man steps inside with his arms full of a bundle of different materials, and another shorter man following him. “This is Seungkwan; he’s really good with kids and bugged me to let him meet your brother. That’s cool, right?”

“I don’t have a choice who you bring here,” you point out while putting your hand on Chan’s head protectively when both men move into the room to step past you in different directions. Mingyu places the bundle of clothing in his arms on the couch while Seungkwan scuttles over to the bed and starts to strip it of the stale sheets.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you two,” Mingyu explains. “I know it’s not your choice to be here and chances are, you’re two very innocent people caught in the wrong place, so you’ve done nothing wrong and there is no issue between us.”

You can’t help but wonder what kind of tune this man would be singing if he saw the brand on your thigh. You know it wouldn’t be a good one.

“Bring the sheets, Gyu,” Seungkwan encourages now that he has the bed entirely bare of any sheets.

Obligingly, Mingyu grabs the clean bedding from the bundle to approach and help Seungkwan set up the bed neatly while you and Chan watch silently, though whenever the pair look over at you, Chan looks away and presses further into your leg.

“So,” Mingyu starts once the bed is ready and he and Seungkwan move closer. Though they keep more than just a polite distance from you both, even if Seungkwan keeps glancing at Chan as if he wants to talk to the little boy yet can see that it’s not a good idea. “Have you thought about what you want to eat?”

“Oh…no,” you reply honestly. “I forgot.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” He tilts his head, curious and a little confused as if he doesn’t understand how you can’t be hungry considering the state of you.

“No,” it’s another completely truthful answer and makes the tall man look even more puzzled, but at least he doesn’t question it.

“Okay, well, maybe some snacks will bring back your appetite. We don’t have any women’s clothes, you’re the only woman in the manor in years so I brought you some of mine, I hope that’s okay.”

“You idiot,” Seungkwan scolds and backhands Mingyu’s closest arm, making the tall man break into a pout, to your complete astonishment. “Those will drown her!” The smaller man looks at you with a kind smile. “I’ll get you some of my own, those will be better suited, and I’ll get something for your brother. We might have some clothes small enough, but they might be too big. But at least they’ll do until his own clothes are cleaned up, right?”

Honestly, you’re still too thrown off by how kind the men in this house have been to you so far to be able to answer in any certain way. It’s very kind, yes, and you truly appreciate it, at least for Chan’s sake so he doesn’t have to suffer more, but you can’t believe they’re doing this out of the goodness of their own hearts. It’s unfathomable to you.

All you do is make a vague sound in response that Seungkwan takes as agreement and smiles, only telling you that he’ll be right back before leaving.

“Did you look at the bathroom?” Mingyu prompts, pointing to the still closed doors. You shake your head. “I’ll show you how the shower and stuff work, they’re stupidly complicated with all the options,” he says as he walks over to the left-hand door and opens it to an all-white bathroom, which is lit brightly despite the overhead light not being turned on, thanks to the large window above the tub against the back wall.

You pick Chan up to carry him into the bathroom and peer around curiously while Mingyu rambles on about how long it took him to get used to the fancy showers here when he first joined, and then they changed them to even fancier ones with more options, so he had to learn it all again.

It’s strange how different the large man seems at the manor compared to when you first met him. Although there had clearly been care in him then, as evident by his insistence on all of you wearing seatbelts and the arm that he had kept in front of Chan the entire drive with enough space to not be close to touching the boy, he had seemed every bit the gangster he must be to be a Centaur. Yet, now at the house, he’s almost a different person; no tense edges and only open expressions.

It must be that thing about people being themselves when they’re at home; feeling safe and able to be honest about who they truly are. You’ve never had that and wonder what it must feel like to experience that genuine ease and comfort, to be free. You doubt you’ll ever know.

“Ah, shit,” Mingyu curses when the water sprays out over him once he turns one of the dials. “I forgot about the multiple heads,” he grumbles and turns the water back off to face you while pulling his sleeveless t-shirt away from his torso where the water is making it start to stick and enhance his muscled chest. “Oh, sorry! I swore in front of him!” He apologises with wide eyes and one hand coming up to cover his mouth guiltily.

“He’s heard worse,” you reply, not at all bothered by the curse as you often drop minor curses in front of Chan, and he hasn’t copied them yet. Nor the more vulgar ones your father prefers.

“Still, I shouldn’t do it.” He glances over your shoulder a second before you hear footsteps approaching, making you move aside and turn so that you have a clear view of everyone.

“Hopefully, these will all be okay,” Seungkwan says as he enters the bathroom with a pile of clothing to place on the counter. “You can keep it all too if you want, none of it gets used anyway so it’d be better if someone who’d make use of it all gets it.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you reply, once again shocked by the kindness of these men but starting to get a little more accustomed to it, enough to show some gratitude at least.

“No problem!” He chirps then moves back to the bedroom to grab the towels from the couch to also put on the bathroom counter. “As far as I’m aware, everything you might want should be in the cupboards; the bathrooms are usually always fully stocked.” To check the validity of his own words, Seungkwan goes over to the unit and opens the doors to reveal more towels, toilet rolls, cleaning products and toiletries. “Ah, I’ll take these ones, they probably smell musty now; they must’ve been in here a while.” He plucks out the stack of towels and sniffs them, immediately pulling a face. “Yeah, I’ll go get you more.” He wanders off before anyone can say anything.

“I’ll let you shower and everything. I imagine snacks will be in the bedroom by the time you’re done,” Mingyu declares. “You can lock the doors too, by the way, this one and the bedroom door if that makes you feel safe. But if you don’t answer when we knock, at least half of us can either pick the lock or break it off, but we will only do that if you don’t answer in a reasonable time. For safety reasons; both yours, and ours.”

“I understand,” you reply simply and nod a little in agreement to his warning.

“Okay, great! Enjoy your showers and I’ll see you in a bit!”

Mingyu leaves and you wait until you watch him also leave the bedroom and shut the door behind him before you put Chan down and close the bathroom door, immediately clicking the lock into place.

“Use the toilet, Squirt,” you encourage, motioning to the toilet and glad that Chan waddles straight over obediently to do his business while you rummage through the cupboard to take out the necessary supplies.

“Hurts,” Chan’s words make you look over to where he’s still sitting on the toilet and frowning at you.

“Your belly?” He shakes his head. “Oh, to pee?” He nods. “Ah, I was worried you haven’t had enough to drink. Okay, well hopefully they’ll have left drinks, and you can drink lots and that will help.”

“Juice?”

“Mm, maybe, I don’t know, bud.”

“I want apple juice.”

“We’ll see what they give us. It might just be water.” Chan pulls a face. “I know you don’t like water but it’s good, remember? We need to make sure we drink enough of it to be healthy. You didn’t drink your water this morning and now it hurts to pee.”

“Lots but not too much,” he repeats the words you’ve said to him many times when convincing him to drink his daily water intake.

It was so much easier when you had access to whatever drinks you wanted, but now you can rarely afford to buy anything other than cheap bottled water or refill empty bottles at public water fountains, which are few and far between these days. So sometimes, it’s truly a struggle to keep you both hydrated.

“Exactly, too much or too little is bad for us.”

“Need to be healthy.”

“We do. And clean, so finish up and let’s get you showered.”

“Water?” Chan gasps excitedly and rushes to get off the toilet and close the lid before flushing it, then speeds over with his trousers still around his knees, but you don’t scold him for it; there’s no point when he’s about to take them off. Also, it makes him waddle like a penguin and it’s rather amusing.

“Yeah, get naked and I’ll get it nice and warm.”

“Water time!” Chan exclaims happily and rapidly starts to throw off his clothes, making you once again glad that you have been able to buy him clothes that are easy for him to handle on his own, without buttons or zips for him to get frustrated with. One less reason for a meltdown.

Although he doesn’t have any water safe toys to play with in the shower, Chan has endless fun jumping under the warm water and splashing around while singing every water themed song he can think of, even making up plenty too, while you sit on the tiles outside of the splash zone and watch fondly.

There will never be anyone who you love and adore more than your little brother. You’d do anything for him, risk everything if it would make him smile like this all the time.

Though after a while, you do have to stop his joyful playing so that you can give him a soapy sponge for him to clean his body while you scrub his shaggy hair clean as he sits on the wet tiles in front of where you kneel, getting your jeans wet but you don’t care.

Once Chan is all clean, you wrap him up in a few towels and sit him on the dry tiles facing the wall so he can play with the few toys from his backpack and remain occupied while you shower. It’s not that often that you can shower properly, usually you just have to wash you both over with baby wipes, or with a damp cloth when you can find a private space big enough for it. Showers have become a luxury over the past months, but even with the little amount you’ve had, Chan knows that he must remain looking away while you shower to give you privacy, and he only complains about it if he doesn’t stay entertained with toys for the duration.

As much as you’d love to stand under the water and let it soothe your aching muscles until your skin is all wrinkly, you know you can’t, so you scrub yourself as quickly as possible while remaining thorough, before getting out and rubbing your body dry so you can pull on the clothes Seungkwan left for you. Of course, there isn’t a bra or underwear, but the sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, and hoodie all fit comfortably enough and smell fresh and clean.

With a towel around your hair, you get Chan up and dressed before towel drying both of your hair quickly and unlocking the bathroom door to let you out into the bedroom.

As Mingyu said, someone has left snacks on the low table, a lot of snacks and various bottles and cans of drinks.

Chan gasps excitedly and rushes over to pick up a little bottle of apple juice. “Juice, Per!”

“Mm, sit down then,” you hum and take the bottle to open it as Chan sits down and plops his turtle plushie at his side in wait. As soon as you’ve handed over the open bottle, your brother starts to gulp the contents down eagerly. “Ah, Channie, slow, you’ll make yourself sick. We must be careful when we eat and drink, remember?”

“But I so thirsty, Per!”

“I know, but it’s not going anywhere. Take it steady, Squirt.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” he quotes, and you smile softly as you watch him purposely take much smaller sips now, all because of a tortoise in an old fable.

Once he’s consumed half of the bottle, Chan puts it on the table and accepts the packet of mini cookies you’ve opened to offer and happily starts munching away with his feet contently flopping from side to side where they’re stretched out in front of him under the table.

While Chan eats the snacks you’ve set up ready for him, you go back to the bathroom to clean your clothes in the sink with the soaps, even if they’re not designed for this, but you can’t be picky about how you get your clothes clean, you just care that they are.

When Chan scrambles into the bathroom while you’re setting everything up to dry, you become concerned until you hear the knocking on the bedroom door and understand what has spooked your little brother. “It’s okay, you can wait in here,” you assure and pat his head before going to the bedroom to open the door while he does as offered and remains hiding in the bathroom.

On the other side of the bedroom door upon opening it stand Mingyu and Junhui, each with a tray of covered plates in their hands and smiles on their faces.

“Hi, Pearl!” Junhui greets. “Food’s ready!”

“Oh,” you step back to let the men in and rush over to the low table to clean up the crumbs and packets Chan has left behind.

“Here, here, I’ll take them,” Mingyu offers, plucking the rubbish from your hands after he’s put down the tray in his hands. “I need to go out for a bit, but Jun is still around, and Seungkwan is too, so you can ask for either of them until I’m back. It should only be an hour; I’ve just got to deal with some stuff in the middle wall.” You nod in understanding. Mingyu shoots you a smile before he leaves, pulling up the door, yet leaving it open slightly as Junhui is still in the room.

The chef is kneeling beside the table as he sets up all of the plates, uncovering them as he goes and causing various delicious scents to fill the room. You’re not surprised that Chan shuffles over and half hides behind your legs as he eyes the food, drawn in by the smell.

“So!” Junhui starts when he’s done arranging everything and looks up. He jerks back in surprise spotting Chan suddenly at your side, but he just smiles at him brightly, then looks up at you. “I thought I’d play it mostly safe and made some plain, yet still tasty and nutritious, foods; enough for the both of you butttt” he starts pulling out condiment bottles and jars of herbs and spices from the various pockets on his cargo pants and apron. “I brought flavours so you can adjust them as you like! I thought that’d be easier than stressing you out by asking you what you like again; that clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. So here, enjoy, eat as much or as little as you want, and you can ask Soonyoung for me if you need more.”

“Soonyoung?” You repeat confusedly.

“Yeah, the guy outside the room.” He motions to the door over his shoulder. “But be warned if you do open the door to ask for something, you will have to deal with talking to him. He hurt his ankle last week and is only off bed rest now, still not allowed to do patrols or go out so he’s sitting on a chair sulking and constantly complaining that he’s bored. But he’s got great hearing and is dumb enough to still jump around on his bad ankle so he will stop you from leaving and get hurt in the process. And then we’ll have to deal with him sulking even longer, so for our sake, please don’t try to run away or anything.”

“That would be illogical given where we are,” you point out simply.

The cook makes a noise of understanding while nodding his head slowly. “Ah, so you do know where you are and whose roof you’re under.”

“Mingyu’s tattoo gives it away, yes.”

“He’s insane, I tell you,” Junhui states, picking up a child-sized cutlery set to hand over, so you take it and sit down, pulling Chan down next to you and handing him the fork to let him pick what he wants to try. No surprise, he goes straight for the plain noodles. Junhui hands you the adult’s cutlery set, though you just hold it at the edge of the table as he talks. “It’s January and the idiot keeps going out in stupid, thin jackets that inevitably get ripped and destroyed, and I think he does it on purpose just to have an excuse to take them off and get his arms out. He’s very vain that Mingyu; he’s hot and he knows it.” He tuts.

You’re not sure what to say in response. Sure, Mingyu is very attractive, and it had struck you as very odd that he was only in a sleeveless t-shirt in winter, but he hadn’t come across as vain to you, though you’re aware that you really don’t know him at all to have a solid opinion on his vanity level. So, you just make a vague sound in response and hope it’s enough to appease Junhui.

“Well, anyway, I’ll let you eat. If you don’t like any of it, tell Soonyoung to call me and I’ll make something else; all I do around here is cook and dinner isn’t for hours, so I don’t have anything else to do. You’d actually be doing me a favour by giving me something to do other than sit playing games on my phone in the den or trying to convince one of the others to entertain me.”

“Why don’t you sit with Soonyoung, if you’re both bored?” You logically suggest.

“Because…actually, that’s a good point. I’ll get a game, do you like games? We can play monopoly…oh, no, that’s a bad idea. Cluedo? No, Soonyoung never understands those kinds of games.” He frowns in thought.

“I’d rather just focus on my brother.”

“Ah, right, right. You’re a good sister.” Junhui gets to his feet after slapping his own thighs. “I’ll be outside and if we get too loud, just come out and tell us to shut up, we both lack volume control when we get excited. Okay, bye, Pearl. Bye, little man!” Junhui skips out of your room, calling to Soonyoung about playing a game as he goes. You can’t see the other man, but you hear his excited whoop before the door shuts and blessedly closes out their conversation.

“Is it good, Channie?” You ask, brushing Chan’s floppy, almost dry hair back out of his eyes. He hums and nods in agreement as he eats. “Good.”

Only now that you’re alone with your little brother and content that he’s eating well do you pick up your cutlery and start to eat.

Although Mingyu has reappeared and left again multiple times, you and Chan are mostly alone for hours, with the man only popping in to check on you both and ask if you need anything, plus take away all the dishes with Junhui.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door and you look over from being curled protectively around your sleeping brother. Something about the knock is different to how Mingyu knocks, it’s firmer, yet still gentle in a strange contradiction that makes your stomach flitter with anxiety.

Silently, as to not disturb Chan, you get off the bed and walk to the door to open it just as the knocking starts up again.

On the other side is a man, who although you’ve never met before, you’ve seen his picture many times in files in your father’s office to be able to recognise his dark gaze and full lips.

Choi Seungcheol, the current leader of Choi’s Centaurs as of ten years ago when his father passed through means that have never been publicly verified. Many even think that Seungcheol himself had a hand in his father’s death just so that he could take over the gang sooner.

You don’t know enough of the man to have an opinion on that matter, but what you do know is that he makes an intimidating figure as he looms over you in riding leathers with his motorbike helmet still in one gloved hand at his side, whereas the other is bare and raised in a fist from knocking on the door.

“Pearl, I assume?” He greets, raising an eyebrow slightly in question while lowering his arm to hang at his side.

You don’t know if the dark look is intentional or not, but you do know the shadows under his eyes aren’t. He looks exhausted and you can’t imagine he’s very happy about having to come to you upon returning home instead of going to bed like he no doubt yearns to.

You nod in confirmation. “Your brother is asleep?” Another nod. “Alright, step out here so we can talk without waking him.”

Silently, you step into the hall when he moves aside, before you pull the door up almost entirely shut, yet cracked open enough that you can hear if Chan needs you.

“So, what I hear is that a couple of my guys found you in the warehouse where it seems as if you’ve been sleeping with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good, you speak,” he places his helmet on the floor so that he can remove his glove and tuck it into his jacket pocket with the other before unzipping the protective jacket, showing a plain black t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “You’re homeless?”

“Yes.”

“Any family to go to? I can’t send you back onto the streets with a kid.”

“Just like that?” You ask, looking at him puzzled. “You’re just sending us out again?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I know you’re aware I don’t condone violence towards children, nor do I agree with leaving any kid in a position where they don’t have an adult to look after them. I’m not going to hurt your brother, and hurting you would hurt him too, so my only option is to send you off and hope you won’t try to cause me any trouble by saying shit about whatever you saw and heard at the warehouse.”

“And here.”

“What?”

“Your men brought me into your home; as far as I’m aware that’s pretty fucking unheard of.”

He nods slightly in confirmation. “This situation is unheard of, you’re right, Mingyu fucked up by bringing you into the manor when he could’ve left you in one of the empty houses in the outer wall, but I can’t blame him when he did it to make sure he knows you two will be safe and looked after. So tomorrow I’ll personally drive you to the closest family you have, so that I know you arrive safely.”

“No.”

“No?” He frowns at you in astonishment. “The fuck do you mean no? I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, sweetheart. I’m in charge and you’re under my roof, you’re alive because of my rules and you have no fucking place to say no to me.”

“I’ll say no to whoever I need to if it means protecting my brother.”

“I just said I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”

“Sending us to family will mean him getting hurt.”

“Did you run away?” You nod in confirmation. “Because your parents hurt you?”

“I took him and ran because I knew it would only get worse for him now that… Look, I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you can do to me; I’m not letting you send my brother back there. I won’t do a thing that puts us back on their radar. So just take us back to the warehouse so I can grab the shit I had to leave behind and we can see the last of each other.”

Seungcheol stares at you consideringly for a long moment as his arms cross over his chest before he nods once in understanding and acceptance. “Alright, no family, but I’m not sending you back to the streets. There must be some kind of women’s and children’s refuge that would take you in.”

“Separately. I’m not his parent and as I’m not a kid myself, we’d get separated.”

“Then lie and say he’s your son.”

“I don’t like to lie.”

He scoffs a laugh. “You wouldn’t last a day in my world with that mindset, sweetheart.” You don’t answer and just stare at him silently, well aware of how wrong his assumption is. “Right, so not that. Well, and this is a once in a lifetime offer, but I’ll buy you a house, put it in your name, give you money to cover costs for a few months while you get on your feet, and we never cross paths again. You won’t owe me shit either; I have more money than I know what to do with anyway, I can afford to help someone in need.”

“If I use my name they will find us, Seungcheol,” you plainly state.

He blinks at you a few times dumbly before responding. “Oh, that’s my name.”

You can’t help but look at him in concern for his odd reaction. “Yes.”

“You seriously do know who I am. I didn’t even introduce myself.”

“You’re the head of the most famous gang in the country, of course I know who you are.”

“Mm, many might know me by name, not by face.”

“Mingyu told me the boss will be by to see me once he’s home; you are the only person who has knocked on the door other than him. And you said you’re in charge; I’m under your roof. It’s not hard to put two and two together,” comes your logical rationalisation, easily explaining how you didn’t fail to recognise him despite his lack of introduction.

He’s right in that most people may know his alias, yet have no idea what his first name is, even if they know his family name, or who the name belongs to if they passed him in the street without introduction.

“Huh, guess so. Just threw me hearing my name suddenly, especially as nobody actually calls me that.”

“I don’t like your alias,” you admit bluntly, and to your surprise, the man lets out a laugh. “What?”

“Nobody has ever said that to my face before. Wow, either you have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen, or you’re so sleep deprived that you’ve forgotten how to act.”

Once again, you don’t answer, just silently stare at him. You truly have no idea what category you fit under right now, if either.

“You’re an interesting one, Pearl,” he declares with amusement tilting the edge of his lips up ever so slightly. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this tonight so we’re both going to go the fuck to bed and get some much-needed sleep, then we’ll talk again. And I’ll meet your brother; the guys say he’s adorable and shy, so I’m real curious about him.”

“Right,” you mutter in response, not sure what you’re expected to say right now.

“Alright, well, seeing as you’re not an idiot and know who I am and what you risk if you try to fuck me over, I won’t have anyone outside your room anymore and no-one will bother you until the morning when someone comes and gets you for breakfast.”

“Get us? Like, to join?”

“Yeah, we can talk over breakfast; I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and the sooner we sort this shit out, the better.”

“Right.”

“Go back to your brother and make sure you sleep too. You look like you’re about to pass out any second,” he says as he bends over momentarily to swoop up his helmet into his hold.

“Says you.”

Seungcheol snorts a laugh as he turns and walks off. “Definitely an interesting one.”

You watch him until he turns at the end of the hall and is out of sight before you go back into the bedroom and lock the door so that when you curl up under the covers with your brother, you feel safe enough to close your eyes and sleep in a soft bed for the first time in months.

Maybe today hasn’t been quite as unlucky as you initially thought.

When the knock comes in the morning, you’ve already been up for a few hours.

You’ve already cleaned up the bathroom and bedroom, showered for what may be the last time in a while to take advantage while Chan slept, and dressed back in your own clean clothes; though you’ve neatly folded the ones Seungkwan gave you into your backpack, hoping that he was being honest about allowing you to keep them, you could really do with the spare clothes.

Once Chan woke, you had him drink some juice, then let him splash around in the bath until the water was cold and his skin wrinkly, before drying him and dressing him in clean clothes and folding his new spares into your own backpack as his own is too full of his own spare clothes, toys, and other necessary supplies.

Chan’s playing with his toys on the bed at your side when the knock comes, so you leave him there to get up and answer the door.

“Good morning!” Mingyu greets you brightly once the door is open and you have sight of one another. “I’m glad you’re already up, breakfast is just about ready. Is your brother up too?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, great, let’s go join the others.” You nod slightly in agreement, then turn to get Chan and carry him with you as he clutches his turtle to his chest and hides in your neck.

“Does he have trouble walking?” Mingyu wonders as you follow him down the hall.

“Sometimes.”

“Ah, you just carry him all of the time, so I wondered.”

“It’s just easier, lets me know he’s safe if I’m holding him.”

“That makes sense. But he is safe here, you know. Nobody will hurt him. We all love kids in this house, in the appropriate way.”

“I don’t know you to trust those words.”

“I understand,” he assures and gives you a little smile.

Nothing more is said all the way to the kitchen where you can already hear noise before you enter. It’s not too loud, thankfully, just the general sounds of people being happy and chatting. And to your surprise, you can hear a child’s voice amongst it all.

“They’re here!” Junhui cheers as you enter the kitchen and see him cooking with another man while the large breakfast table is surrounded by a bunch of men, Seungcheol and Seungkwan included, plus a little boy who is in the middle of climbing over a brightly smiling man.

The little boy immediately looks over and grins brightly. “My new friend!” He exclaims.

“No, no, I told you, no,” Seungcheol says with a sigh. “Every child you meet isn’t your friend, Solie.”

“But he will be!” The boy insists and almost climbs up onto the table, though the man who he’s using as a willing climbing frame grabs him and moves him to put on the floor. Undeterred as if it’s a regular occurrence, the boy runs around the table to approach you and stare up at your hiding little brother in awe. “Hi! I’m Hansol, I’m almost seven! What’s your name?”

All the men look over curiously, stopping their conversations to see what happens next.

“I’m sorry, Hansol, but he doesn’t talk to anyone but me,” you say to the young boy gently.

“Oh,” Hansol frowns. “Why?”

“He only feels safe with me.”

“Oh. I don’t have a sister, but I feel safest with my daddy, so I talk his ear off, he says.” To your surprise, he points over at Seungcheol, who is watching his son with fond amusement.

In all you’ve seen and read about Choi Seungcheol over the years, you’ve never even heard a rumour that he has a child, not even a woman claiming to be carrying his child to try and get money from the filthy-rich family. There have even been rumours that the man is gay due to the lack of women seen on his arm over the years. Maybe that’s still true and Hansol isn’t biologically Seungcheol’s, maybe he’s adopted or a surrogate baby; not that it matters when you can see nothing but pure love in the man’s eyes for his son.

At least now you understand why the men had all been so insistent that Seungcheol has strict rules to protect children; as a father he likely has a better appreciation and love for the little humans. Well, a good father should, at least. Something about this man makes you think that he is a good and doting father, despite being a ruthless gang leader.

“Ah, it’s good you feel safe with him,” you decide to say and look at Hansol, who nods enthusiastically in agreement before looking at Chan again.

“Can we still be friends if he doesn’t talk and I talk a lot?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t know if he can handle it, he’s sensitive to noise.”

“Oh, me too, like bangs and stuff; it makes me feel all horrible and gross and sometimes I wear my special headphones, and it makes it all quiet. Does he have special headphones too? They’re really good!”

“Ear defenders?”

“Oh, is that what they’re called?”

You nod. “Defend means to protect and they’re designed to protect your hearing and block out noises.”

“Ooooh, that’s cool! Daddy!” Hansol turns to look at his father. “My special headphones are superheroes for my ears!”

“So I heard,” Seungcheol replies with a chuckle. “Why don’t you come sit down so Pearl can get comfortable with her brother for breakfast, hm?”

“Can I sit with him?”

“I think he’d rather sit with his sister.”

The little boy deflates, whole posture slumping and his lips protruding sadly, “oh.”

“You can sit with me, Solie!” The same man Hansol had earlier been climbing on offers, making Hansol light right back up and run over to clamber up.

“No, no way,” Junhui argues sternly. “You spill enough food as it is without a child on your lap, Kwon Soonyoung.”

The man you now know to be Soonyoung, the man with the injured ankle who had been keeping guard outside of your room yesterday, pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, which Hansol copies when he’s in his own seat on his dad’s right at the head of the table. “You never let us have breakfast cuddles anymore,” Soonyoung complains in a mumble.

“Learn to eat like a grown up and then you’ll be allowed breakfast cuddles,” another man says as Mingyu leads you over to the empty two seats on Seungcheol’s left and motions for you to sit in the one closest to the boss. You sit in the offered chair while continuing to hold Chan chest to chest on your lap, and Mingyu takes the seat on your left.

“You’re younger than me!” Soonyoung exclaims.

“Alright children, at least pretend to know how to behave when we have guests,” Seungcheol chides, though he looks to be so used to the playful bickering that it doesn’t truly bother him.

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung agrees, then yelps when the metal chopstick Seungcheol abruptly throws through the air whacks him in the arm. “Ow!”

“I’ve told you not to call me that!”

“You do call them children,” the man at the other end of the table points out with a little, lazily amused smirk. “It’s your own fault, daddy.”

“Yeah, daddy,” multiple of the men chime in sync, then start to cackle when Seungcheol sighs heavily.

Though the man decides to ignore them all and turns his attention to you instead. “So, how’d you two sleep?”

“Good,” you reply, eyes darting around as everyone starts to serve themselves now that Junhui and the man who was cooking with him are seated, a sign that it’s time to eat. You’re shocked that they don’t wait for Seungcheol and Hansol to have their servings first, as the lead family. Though you can see Soonyoung making sure that the child has food on his plate before he gets his own share.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it for you,” Mingyu offers. “Does he eat toast?” You nod in confirmation, so Mingyu grabs a couple of slices of toast. “With butter?” You nod again and he gets to work buttering the toast.

“Will you turn around?” You request Chan softly once you’ve leaned down to talk to him. He shakes his head. “Just halfway, please, Squirt. You can face the wall, but you need to be able to reach your food.”

Chan tenses for a second as he squeezes his turtle tight to his chest, before he relaxes and you know it means he’s ready, so you adjust him until his back is to Mingyu. Although Chan is technically facing Seungcheol now, the wall is more directly in front of him, and he stares at it.

“Anything else on it? We don’t have peanut butter, Hansol’s allergic, but we have probably almost anything else,” Mingyu says once the toast is buttered and on the plate that is sitting in front of you on the table.

“Do you want anything on your toast, Squirt?” You ask. Chan glances over to the plate and instead of verbally answering, he picks up a piece of the warm toast to start eating contently, feet starting to bounce a little as he chews.

“Is his name Squirt?” Hansol speaks up from directly opposite you, causing you to look over and see that he’s already got crumbs around his mouth from his own toast, though his is slathered in jam and he also has a single sausage on his plate.

“It’s a nickname,” you answer.

“Oh, why?”

“Have you seen Finding Nemo?”

“Yeah!” Hansol lights up. “I wanna bounce on the jellyfish, boing, boing!” He bounces in his seat.

“Ah, you shouldn’t bounce when you eat,” you say automatically, worried about the boy choking. “It’s a hazard to move in such a way while you eat.”

Hansol falls still to look at you with intrigue. “What’s hazard mean?”

“Dangerous. A hazard is something that’s dangerous.”

“Oh. So, no bouncing when eating?” You hum and nod in approval. “Okay.”

“What?” Seungcheol baulks in disbelief. “I’ve been telling you to sit still while you eat since you could sit up and you listen to someone you just met?”

“You never told me it’s dangerous, daddy. I don’t want to get hurt, you know.”

“I must’ve told you it’s dangerous,” Seungcheol mutters.

“Nope! You tell me I make a mess.”

“Oh…well, okay, that’s my fault then, I should’ve put the danger warnings first.”

“You should,” Hansol agrees simply, and for the first time in over 24 hours, you almost laugh yet manage to hold it back and instead just smile amusedly. “Will Squirt play with me after breakfast?”

“I thought we’re playing after breakfast,” Seungkwan pouts from Mingyu’s left.

“I always play with you Uncle Kwannie, I need new friends who aren’t old.”

“Wow, Hansol, wow,” Seungkwan deadpans. “You say such lovely things.”

“I am a lovely boy,” Hansol agrees, entirely missing the sarcasm in the man’s voice, making Mingyu giggle as Seungkwan pouts to stop himself from also laughing. “Does Squirt like climbing? I want to play outside after breakfast, and I can show my climbing frame, and we can play fishies too! I bet he’ll like that if he likes Nemo. Does he like playing fishies?”

“I don’t think he’s ever played it,” you answer honestly.

“We just pretend we’re fishies living in the sea, it’s pretty easy to play.” Hansol shrugs.

“Just eat your breakfast, Sol,” Seungcheol says, tapping the edge of Hansol’s plate.

“I am eating, daddy, you’re not and she’s not. We’re all eating but you two.”

“Okay, well focus on your food while we talk about adult stuff, okay?”

“Ugh, boring,” Hansol huffs and turns to start talking to Soonyoung, who happily listens to the little boy as they both eat with crumbs around their mouths and wide eyes on one another.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Seungcheol starts as he finally moves to put food on his own plate, though pauses when he realises that only Chan’s second piece of toast is on the plate in front of you. “You can help yourself; it’s all free game.”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you reply.

“Eat, you need energy to look after your brother,” he declares firmly and as much as you want to argue, he’s got you by bringing Chan into it; you’re pretty sure he said that on purpose. “I’m going to put food on your plate, and you don’t have to eat it all, but eat something, okay?” He doesn’t wait for your agreement before he gets up onto his feet to lean over the table further and serve a little of most of the dishes onto your plate before he serves himself a much heartier portion of everything.

For a few minutes, you eat quietly, feeding Chan from your own cutlery too so that he’s not just eating toast, even if he seems perfectly happy slowly chewing on it while staring off, though he opens his mouth to accept whatever you choose to feed him without complaint.

“Can I ask something?” Seungcheol’s voice makes you look away from Chan and to the man on your right. There’s something in his eyes you can’t place as he watches Chan curiously. “Is he autistic?” Your movements immediately halt and Seungcheol notices, snapping his full attention to your carefully blank expression. “He is, isn’t he?”

“My brother’s business is not yours,” you state firmly.

“I’m not trying to step on your toes or anything, I just see a lot of Hansol in him,” he explains with a shrug. “He’s got autism and ADHD, so I get it, we all get it, if he is autistic. It’s not a dirty word in this house and we all make accommodations where necessary to make sure my son doesn’t ever feel other, you know? He’s just another kid with some differences as far as he’s concerned.”

For a long moment, you just stare at Seungcheol in utter shock at his words. Not necessarily that Hansol has autism and ADHD because that doesn’t exactly surprise you despite having just met the kid, sometimes you just know these things, but what is a surprise is the ease in which Seungcheol says it all and the fact that you truly believe him; that they all accept and love Hansol and do what they can to support him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Chan.

“Oh,” you breathe out, and with that breath, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “It’s why I took him away. He got diagnosed in summer, and suddenly…can we stay?” You suddenly request, shocking the man visibly; his eyes go wide, and he straightens up from his casual slouch as he leans on his elbows on the table. “I will work for you; I’ll do whatever you need me to, just please allow my brother to grow up somewhere stable and with love. I’m not asking you to love him in any way, or for any of you to look after him; but for him to see another child like him receiving such love, I hope he’ll know there’s more than just one person on the side of kids like him.”

Seungcheol remains quiet for a second before he lets out a little breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I was actually going to suggest it myself, that you stay, because I really don’t know what else to do. You have nowhere to go, and I had a feeling he’s autistic, so I know it’s even harder for you and I truly don’t want to risk your family finding you, especially now I know why they think it’s acceptable to be cruel to an innocent child. I was just surprised you asked.”

“For his sake I’ll do anything.”

“Can you clean?”

“What?”

“If you stay, you need to work and there’s always stuff to clean in a house this size.”

“Is this because I’m a woman?” You deadpan and suddenly, the men closest to you turn quiet, creating a domino effect of silence along the table as they all turn to look at their flustered leader. “Is that the only job you could think of for a woman to be of use in your gang, Seungcheol?”

“Oooh,” Soonyoung jeers under his breath amusedly.

“What? No!” Seungcheol sputters. “I’m not sexist! I know women have plenty of uses besides cleaning!”

“Then why are there no women other than me in this house? I saw perhaps five on the entire drive through the estate. Those don’t seem like numbers of an equal opportunist.”

“I like her,” one of the men whispers to another, however as no-one else is talking, it’s loud and clear to you all and he doesn’t seem to care at all.

“What’s sexist?” Hansol curiously asks.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not sexist,” Seungcheol reiterates, dismissing Hansol’s question with a wave of his hand, making his son pout sadly at not being answered and catching your attention, which in turn, makes Seungcheol look at his son seeing your gaze focused on the boy, and the man notices Hansol’s frown. “Oh, Solie, I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just not something a six-year-old needs to worry about.”

“I think if he asks, he’s curious enough to deserve an answer,” you point out. “Wouldn’t it be better to give him the knowledge earlier, so he grows up with it, than risk it not settling properly in his mind and being easy to pull apart when he’s older?”

“Oh, I really like her,” the same whispered voice as last time declares.

Seungcheol sighs then shuffles to face Hansol better. “Okay, Pearl’s right, I should give you an actual answer when you ask about things like this. Sexism is when someone thinks their sex or gender is above another. Like, for example, some idiot men think women belong in the kitchen and have no use other than staying at home to raise kids and look after the house. That’s men being sexist towards women.”

“Oh, like you only giving Pearl a cleaning job,” Hansol says, making Seungcheol wince, while some of the men start to snicker. “That’s really bad, daddy, give her a better job.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner, all jobs have worth. If nobody cleans, things will be dirty so it’s a perfectly valid job, Hansol.”

“But you’re being sexist so that makes it bad, right?”

“Okay, it would be if that was what I was doing, but I only said cleaner because I have no idea what Pearl’s skills are, and you don’t need qualifications or past job experience to clean.”

“Then ask her. If you don’t know what she’s good at, ask her,” Hansol reasons logically.

“How does it feel when a six-year-old has more logic and common sense than you, Coupsie?” The man at the other end of the table asks with an amused grin, earning an unimpressed expression from Seungcheol as he straightens up and turns towards you.

Seungcheol looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry for not asking you, that wasn’t right. We’ll have an interview when I’m back later and discuss what your place here will be, does that sound okay to you, Pearl?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you agree simply. He relaxes a little before motioning for everyone to get back to their food, and the conversation is dropped there.

Just as he had said, after breakfast, Hansol enthusiastically leads you and Chan outside once you’re all three of you are in your shoes and coats, to go to the play area that would put a public child’s play park to shame.

There’s a large climbing frame, multiple types of swings, slides of varying heights and styles, trampolines imbedded in the rubber tarmac, spinning seats and roundabouts, seesaws and a huge racetrack painted onto the ground and weaving through all the various apparatus. Plus, there’s even a shelter with go carts, bikes, wagons, and even more toys.

And that’s just this section of the garden. A little further away you can see a large, covered section of ground, which you’d assume is an in-ground pool if there were any sign of ladders or tiles around it instead of more rubber tarmac. You have no idea what it is, but you know it’s another activity for Hansol.

It really is clear that Seungcheol will go above and beyond for the sake of his son.

“What shall we play first, Squirt?” Hansol asks, turning to look at Chan, who is entirely focused on the strange sensation of slightly springy ground under him as he bounces on his toes curiously. “It’s cool, right?! It’s just like in real play parks! Uncle Jihoon says it’s safety playground flooring; it’s got rubber in it so when we fall it isn’t as hard as normal ground and won’t hurt so much or break us as easily.”

Of course, Chan doesn’t respond in any way and honestly, you’re not even sure he’s heard a word that Hansol has said to him, you don’t know if Chan even realises that he’s being spoken to despite the older boy using the nickname so smoothly it’s like he’s always used it.

“Do you like bouncing?” Hansol asks, having no issue with the lack of response and instead rushes over to the trampolines to jump onto. “Look! Look, Squirt! We can touch the clouds!”

“Hey,” you say as you crouch down so you can get Chan’s attention. He glances at you, then looks up when he sees you looking directly at him, signalling that you want his attention. “Hansol wants to play with you, don’t you think that’d be fun? You can make a friend.” You motion over to where Hansol is still happily bouncing away, causing Chan to look over. He pulls an uncertain face. “Want to try?” You offer your hand and to your joy, Chan takes it, silently agreeing to give the trampoline a go. It’s a huge step in Chan making his first friend.

Together, you walk over to the trampolines and Hansol lights up noticing you nearing. He bounces closer and offers his hand to Chan. “I’ll bounce with you, it’s really fun, Squirt!”

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you assure your brother and gently remove your hand from his. He looks at you with rounded eyes of hesitation, yet when you smile and nod reassuringly, he turns and tentatively takes Hansol’s hand.

Your heart swells with joy seeing Chan accept the older boy enough to timidly follow him onto the trampoline, even if he makes slightly distressed sounds as the material bends under his weight.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Squirt,” Hansol soothes in a gentle tone and holds both of Chan’s hands securely so they’re facing one another, though Chan is staring alarmed down at the ground bending beneath their feet. “It’s a trampoline, it’s made to bounce. We can do it gently.”

So, so, so carefully, Hansol starts to bounce. His feet don’t even leave the trampoline and he’s more just bending his legs a little and using the movement to bob them slightly. Chan’s distressed sounds grow, but Hansol makes more soothing noises and holds his hands tighter. He keeps talking to Chan, telling him that it’s okay and “Solie is here, Squirt” and slowly, Chan calms until he’s just making little squeaky types of sounds every handful of seconds.

Once his noises stop being fearful and turn curious, Hansol encourages Chan to try bouncing too. With Hansol’s gentle support, Chan does start to bounce and the utter joy that lights up his face when he lifts his head to look at you with sparkling eyes makes you feel like you could break at any second. You didn’t know he could look so happy with someone else.

Right here, you decide that no matter what Seungcheol asks you to do, you’ll do it. So long as Chan gets to remain here looking so genuinely happy like this, you’ll do anything.

For the first time in months, Chan isn’t right by your side. He’s not far and you can hear Hansol’s voice from the playroom opposite, along with Seungkwan’s, who you have learned is Hansol’s nanny, even if Hansol is often not with the man as the child is both very self-sufficient but also very sneaky at escaping Seungkwan to go play with other people when he gets bored.

It’s probably half of the reason Seungcheol’s home office is right opposite Hansol’s playroom, so Seungcheol can be near if his son wants him when he gets fed up with his nanny.

“Hansol’s always wanted a little brother,” Seungcheol randomly states when you’re both sitting on the leather seating to one side of his office. He’s slouched on the loveseat and you’re sitting in the armchair with a view of the open door, even if you can’t see through to the open door of the playroom. This at least makes you feel better as you’re not turning your back on Chan.

You look at Seungcheol with a slightly raised, questioning eyebrow at his words.

“Just, he’s good with your brother, right?” You nod in confirmation because for all the energy Hansol has in his slight body, he’s so gentle with Chan, so caring, and you can entirely understand what Seungcheol is saying. Hansol is treating Chan like the little brother he’s always wanted. “He’s asked for a little brother for the past two Christmases.” He chuckles and forces himself to sit upright and lean over to pour himself a glass of water from the carafe on the low table in the centre of the seating.

You remain quiet and look back at the door to listen to Hansol’s and Seungkwan’s voices as they play. You can’t hear Chan, and you’re not surprised about it, but it does make you worry that you can’t tell if he’s enjoying the games when he’s so used to either playing alone or with you, even if you’re never as imaginative as either Hansol or Seungkwan.

“You don’t have to worry, Seungkwan knows first aid if they do get hurt,” Seungcheol promises.

“I’m not worried about injury, I’m worried that my brother will suffer in silence, unable to speak up for himself and without me there to talk for him.”

“I don’t mean to overstep or sound like a dick, but have you considered that that doesn’t help?” You look at him with furrowed brows. Seungcheol immediately holds up his hands in defence. “I’m just saying that if you always talk for him, he’s not going to learn to talk for himself.”

“While I agree that can be the case in many circumstances, this is not it. My brother is capable of talking when he feels safe and comfortable with a person, and I’m the only person he has. Even before his diagnosis he didn’t speak to most people because he had delayed speech, and the assholes never gave him the time and understanding to get out what he needed. He’s improved a lot more with just me to talk to these past months than beforehand. So no, I am not making a problem here.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol accepts obligingly. “I believe you, and I apologise for implying that you’re holding him back. Some people just don’t realise they are. They think they’re helping but they’re not. We’ve gotta let our kids figure shit out for themselves sometimes.”

“I know, but some kids and people just aren’t capable of figuring certain things out for themselves, so we have to help them lest they suffer in silence their entire lives.”

“Yeah, I think we know that very well. Raising a kid with disabilities is hard, but I’d never change him.”

“No, I wouldn’t either.”

The two of you share a moment of pure understanding that only breaks when you smile slightly and Seungcheol suddenly looks away while clearing his throat before swallowing down the rest of his water with flushed cheeks.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ill to suddenly get visibly hot like that. You hope that if he is ill, it’s not contagious; you don’t think you can handle even a common cold right now with the poor condition of your body.

“So,” he says as he puts his glass down on the table perhaps a little too quickly, judging by the loud thunk it makes, which makes him wince. He takes a second to steady the glass then leans back and lays one arm on the back of the couch while he looks at you with even pinker cheeks.

“Are you ill?” You blurt.

“What?” He frowns at you bewilderedly. “No, why? Do I look like shit?” He puts his free hand to his cheek worriedly.

“You’re pink.”

“Oh,” he laughs awkwardly and abruptly gets up to cross the room and open the window. “J-just hot!”

“It’s winter.”

“I’ve just got back from a physically strenuous job,” he explains, and turns so his back is to the open window and his ass is leaning against the windowsill. “Talking of jobs, let’s decide what you can do for me. To work for me, I mean.”

“I don’t know what else that could mean other than work,” you point out and he lets out another strange, awkward laugh. “Are you high?”

“No,” he frowns suddenly, expression abruptly changing. “I don’t do drugs.”

“It would explain your odd behaviour. Either you’re ill, or high.”

“Neither! I’m fine, I’m fine,” he waves his hands dismissively before crossing his arms to tuck his hands under his biceps against his ribs. “So, have you had a job before? I assume so based on the fact you’ve only been homeless for the past months since running away, right? You had a house before then?”

“Family home.”

“Ah, so you didn’t pay rent and stuff.”

“No, I paid rent, it just wasn’t my house.”

“Wait, your parents made you pay rent to live in the family home?” He baulks in disgust.

“Father, my mother died years ago. And my stepmother; my brother’s mother if you want to get specific.”

“Oh, you’re half siblings? I assumed full, you seem very close.”

“As I said, I’m the only person who’s bothered to give him understanding.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“Like Hansol is lucky to have you.”

“In some ways, but others, not so much.” He motions around vaguely. “You obviously know what I do, what he’s surrounded by even if he doesn’t realise it yet. At least, I hope he doesn’t; I’m trying to shield him from all that fucked up shit, but I know it’s impossible considering his babysitters are often armed.”

“Is Seungkwan?”

“No, no, he can barely fire a gun. He was just a down-on-his-luck college kid, Hansol befriended him one day and then asked me to make Kwan his babysitter so he could buy new shoes.” He huffs a little laugh. “I have no idea how I raised a kid like that, but I’m glad.”

“It’s probably a lot that’s just him, his soul, if you believe in that.”

“Mm, yeah, probably. Anyway, back to you, you worked?” You nod. “What did you do?”

“Uhm, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint, I did a lot of stuff.” You bite your lip nervously and glance over at the open door before getting up to approach Seungcheol, who shuffles to straighten up. You stop out of arm's reach and lace your fingers together in front of you while staring at his shoulder to not make eye contact. “There is something you should know, and you won’t like it, but you know why I left, and I will always put my brother over anything.”

“What is it?” He asks, voice a little firm, no-nonsense, having sensed that this is serious.

“Who our father is. Who I worked for.”

“You’re a fucking gangster too, aren’t you?” He groans and puts his face in his hands. “I swear if you’re from one of those fucking pissy little gangs always causing me grief, I’m going to be pissed and you’re out on your ass; I’ll keep your brother, and I promise he’ll always be safe with me, but you’re out.”

“I wouldn’t say a pissy little gang,” you reply and glance up at him to see him peering at you in wait over the top of his fingers. “Vultures.”

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol is directly in front of you and holding your jaw to make you look in his burning gaze. “Say that again, sweetheart. Who did you just say you’re associated with?”

“I left.”

“You’re his fucking child.”

“Did you know he has a child?”

Seungcheol’s anger ebbs a little as he considers your words. “No,” he admits in murmured realisation and slowly loosens his grasp before his fingers slip away from your skin and he takes a half step back. “Why didn’t I know about you? You’re not a kid, you’re what, late twenties?”

“Thirty.”

“Oh, we’re the same age,” he comments and eyes you carefully before stepping back again and crossing his arms over his chest. “I would’ve heard if The Vulture has a fucking thirty-year-old daughter.”

“Not if he never wanted anyone to know.”

“Hiding his golden child to keep her safe, that what you’re going for?”

“No, the opposite. He hid me for my protection when I was little, like I assume you’re doing with Hansol, but then it turned to shame and only the immediate circle knows I’m his daughter, everyone else thinks I’m just another member.”

“Why shame?”

“Is it relevant?”

“Maybe. What did you do?”

“Just exist.”

“Is he sexist?”

You huff a laugh at the reminder of the conversation from breakfast. Seungcheol’s lips twitch up into the start of a smile. “Yes, actually, but that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

You consider your options now; you could lie, but that never sits right with you, you could tell him it’s none of his business and hope he simply accepts that, but you’re not positive he will, not when the safety of his family and integrity of his centuries old gang is on the line.

Which leaves you with telling the truth and hoping that his heart doesn’t bend only for children. “I took my brother away because I know how cruel our father can get; I know what the next steps would be to try and ‘fix’ him because he did the same to me when I was a child.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol murmurs. “You’re autistic too?”

“He blamed my mother, turns out that asshole is the common denominator.”

“I see.” He moves to close the window then leans against the windowsill again as he looks at you thoughtfully. “I won’t lie, this has thrown me a little. I don’t know how to deal with autistic adults, just Hansol.”

“You don’t have to deal with me,” you scoff.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean like, what accommodations and stuff to make. How to support you and everything. We’ll have to have a real sit down and talk it out when I have time, and I’ll do research too because obviously I only looked up how autism affects little boys, not women.”

“Research?” He nods. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve had my whole life to figure out how to handle this myself, I don’t need accommodations.”

“Pearl,” he says firmly. “You were raised in a home I can’t believe you ever felt wanted or loved in, based on what you’ve said and what I know of how The Vulture and his gang works. I’m amazed you turned out so understanding and gentle, honestly. But the point is, that environment is not the place someone with autism or other things like that can learn to be true to themself. But that’s going to change, okay? You can be yourself here, you’re safe and no-one will be cruel to you for stimming or needing a break or whatever else you may need, okay?”

It sounds far too good to be true; you’ve never heard those words before, never had anyone tell you that you can just be you without risking getting hit with whatever is to hand. Honestly, at this point, you don’t even know if you know how to be yourself, you’ve been masking for so long.

Instead of trying to put all your thoughts into words you know won’t come out correctly with how jumbled your mind is, you just stare at Seungcheol.

“Alright, let’s circle back to that another day and for now, tell me what you did as a Vulture.”

“Various things.”

“Like what? Finances, tech, streets, driving, meetings, what?” You nod. “What?”

“All of it. I did something in all of it depending on what was needed of me.”

“You didn’t have a speciality?”

“Well…I was often bait, if that’s what you mean.”

“Bait?” He mutters, expression tightening. “What does that mean, Pearl?”

“There weren’t many women other than the whores and dad didn’t trust them to not betray him, so he’d send me to get attention of the men they wanted and take them to a secondary location.”

“Your father used you as sex bait?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“I knew he was fucked up but that’s something else,” he hisses and glares at nothing in particular. “How much do you know about how he works, how the gang is run?”

“Everything.” Seungcheol’s head snaps up to look at you with wide eyes. “I guess when you abuse someone and they still stay, you assume they’re loyal, or at least too scared to be a threat.”

“Are you loyal?”

“No.”

“Are you too scared to be a threat?”

“Never.”

Seungcheol’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “Then I know exactly what your job is, sweetheart; you’re going to help me tear apart the Vultures and dance on their graves.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Seungcheol chokes on a laugh. “It’s not literal, it’s a saying.”

“Oh. Why is that a saying? Why would you dance on someone’s grave?”

“Because you’re happy that they’re dead, a celebration.”

“Oh…I guess I should learn to dance.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 GAMEPLAY RANT: I AM A BAD MEDIC AND I WILL NOT SWITCH CLASSES.

subtitle: having fun playing games as a support main with horrible habits

i’ll stick this under a read more since it is literally me going on a full blown rant about gameplay. you can read it if you’d like! i exclusively play medic, i don’t play any other class. and the way i play medic influences the way i write him. so if you want heavily removed source musings of tf2 medic and having fun playing games, feel free to peruse yourself!

you heard it here first folks.

i am a bad medic with about 100 hours on the guy.

i am a chronic overextender with zero movement finesse, i am almost always entirely out of position— if not completely lost on the map as the team’s healer, i will favor power classes with my heals unless i can use a scout as a taxi to get closer to the front lines faster, i will run into the same sniper sightline five times and give the surprised pikachu face when i am headshotted every time before i think to take a different route, i can’t hit a crossbow shot on an enemy or a teammate at point blank, i regularly forget what team i’m on and if i’m not laser focused on spies and spychecking (see: not doing my job as a medic which is to have that medigun out and on at all times) i will die to them every single time.

i am a bad medic.

i just spent the last three hours getting my absolute shit rocked on casual badwater basin, and about thirty minutes to an hour of that getting harassed by a guy— not even on my team, or maybe he was, i don’t know lmao— about how dogshit of a medic i was.

maybe i didn’t heal him enough. i was definitely dying before i could get a full uber nine times out of ten, and i have a horrible habit of running directly into fire on the field, and i cannot time an uber to save my life or my team’s. there was a point where there were four medics on the team and i had to genuinely ask myself damn… am i really that bad of a medic?

we were getting our asses kicked. so bad. it wasn’t even funny.

but here’s the thing: i was having fun.

even with three other medics joining me in the joyless work of healing the team and not dying and popping your uber right when it’s needed and not dying before you get the uber and not wasting the uber (i died so many times with an unused uber bc i didn’t know when to use it to best help the team) and checking your back for their spy running around with the YER not to mention the rest of the enemy team which is for some reason functioning like a well oiled machine while we have taken an active hit to our damage output because we now have four medics—

or maybe i just suck.

but i had fun.

support classes, healing classes in any fps really are for the people like me— who can’t hit a shot and frankly refuse to learn. for the people who don’t want to be directly in the action, because we refuse to learn how to aim on a computer, so we are easy pickings for anyone who has half a braincell and working eyes and minimal carpal tunnel, but close enough to it that we see the carnage. people who cannot reliably toggle through weapons, are trying to learn the maps, can’t jump high enough to even reach some of the places the other mercs are and at this point are too scared to ask.

and it makes me think of the other day, when i hopped on for a few hours and (after dying repeatedly) saw multiple messages through the chat with what i could only think at the time were sarcastic jabs at a medic, there was two at the time and i was the one dying, so you know— if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck…

it’s not been my week on the servers, i think. but i am still having fun.

i love playing medic. i am normally the only or one of two medics on a team at any given time. and i like it that way. and i love having a second, better medic on the team. i try to study them, see how they stay alive so long. it’s hard in the heat of battle. but i’m dead half the time so i’m watching through the killcams anyway. and it looks to be a lot of staying behind corners, standing, crouching, watching, waiting. and that’s… fair.

i just don’t want to play that way.

i love the way i play medic more than i actually want to be strategically good and effective to the maximum extent as a medic.

i love jumping into the heat of the front lines, getting that soldier that’s at 22 as he falls back to reload then quickly moving to the scout at 10 to get him the fuck out of dodge so he can get to a medkit and maybe if i’m fast enough getting to the demo at 64 and taking more damage and dying anyway to the sniper before the payload even reaches the next checkpoint, hearing the ding of the checkpoint captured while i wait to return to the realm of the living. i love getting lost on the maps, standing on an empty edge of the map as the team is yelling for me, and i’m not listening. i love taking in the scenery. i can’t help but laugh when my kamikaze stunt of jumping in puts me in the middle of the enemy team. i love making batshit pushes for intel with two heavies. it is a rush to place myself behind aggressive players and do my best to keep them alive. i screech when we succeed. and i feel as though i am a good sport. if a spy gets me, they got me! that’s on me and my team for not spychecking! we know they exist!

and i like having aggressive and knowledgeable players help me and in extent the team by telling me what to do! i am a support class! i am not supposed to even be on the front lines! tell me when to pop my uber! tell me which way we’re flanking! warn me if you peek the corner first and see the entire team charging at us! i am your doctor! i will throw myself in front of those bullets and die happily if it means you will get those extra hits! i will be back shortly! just don’t die before then! let me know when i’m overextending, when i need to fall back, i want to be a good medic, i want to be the most use to my team i can be!

but i also want to have fun! i just don’t want to learn how to aim!

i am just the healer. and my motto is if you’re taking damage and you’re by the payload or on a point you are my top priority. if my job is to heal you, and we’re on payload, get to the cart, because that’s where i’m headed if i’m not there already. if you want to push for the intel on 2fort even though they have five sentry nests put up but you need a doctor to try to keep three to four of you alive as long as possible to at least bust two of the sentry nests, though you’ll settle for one, i’ll be right behind you each step of the way. and honestly, know that i am a bad medic! my doctorate is in crayon and the syringe gun is for show! i’ve never consensually removed a body part in my life! i’m here to have a good time and die a whole lot doing dumb shit!

and i will not switch to soldier. i will not switch to pyro! i will not switch to a class i don’t want to play, an “easier” class, a “less important” class and leave the team down a doctor entirely in the hopes someone better decides to pick the class! i like to play the medic! i want to play the medic! in fact, i almost like being a bad medic more. anytime someone groans about a bad medic i snicker a bit, and i heal them less.

appreciate the medigun or die without it.

anyway. remember when playing games was fun and people didn’t act like they were getting paid for the shifts they put in on team fortress 2? i initially titled this “medic and spitting in the face of meta to embrace in the arms of theme” because it is essentially what i do. i stomp all over the meta of what it means to play a support class, what it means to be a healer and heal your team to instead do team fortress 2 battle roleplay and giggle the whole time. and again, i acknowledge i am a bad medic. but dammit, people get healed. and when the shit works, it works. and the feeling i get can only be matched if i injected meth directly into my bloodstream and took five bumps of coke. because i like to have fun when i play my sexy german man. i follow the better medics so i can die before them. im like bait for the enemy team. even if i can’t make it to the full uber, what you don’t know is there’s another medic behind me about to pop. but back when i first started playing i was exclusively a battle medic. the medigun never touched my hands. i was just a stock medic running around bonesawing people.

so maybe it truly is old habits dying hard.

i’m still having fun either way

and i won’t switch classes.

and truly, am i that bad if all the medics are averaging the same amount of heals?

like if it’s just me and i average 10k heals, and another medic joins and we both average 5k, and another one joins and we’re each averaging 3-4k; is it the medic sucking caged cock and balls or is the team just not as good as they think they are?

but that’s a rant for another day. i’m gonna stop it here.

anyway. pick a class, and if you like playing it, don’t change. play until you get better.

and if you end up on or against my team, know i’m not gonna be mad if i die to your YER forty times. i also won’t be mad if you take me by my scruff and say i’m your medic. i’ll do my best to stay by your side. don’t die without me.

and if you’re an enemy medic i will never attack you as a medic i’m sorry you will never get your medic on medic fight. all enemy medics get free bottomless kills on max if you can catch me to do so and don’t put yourself out of position in my team.

i’ll fucking destroy you as a pyro though. don’t pray too hard for those random crits because my w + m1 is constant.

[sakura-hitomi]

I am on my way to become a teacher. In the Netherlands we have various routes on how to become one. I got my degree at becoming a teacher assistant. Which means I assist the teacher in everything, from handling kids to preparing classes and giving lessons.

My love for Snape comes from that place. Snaters often say I shouldn't give class and such. Well the kids adore me, I get tons of tiny gifts from kids who would say otherwise than the snaters do. I don't get money gifts but I get tiny shiny rocks, stickers, glitter stones, drawings, you name it.

Sure, in my dutch culture, a teacher like Snape wouldn't be socially accepted immediately. But if the school in Netherlands had to choose between Snape, Remus, Minerva and Hagrid? The schools would choose Snape without a doubt.

Matter of fact, my aunt is similar to Snape. Calling kids out for staring a lot, being mean to others, or being slow, you name it. Yet without fail at every Christmas dinner or birthday of hers, a big party is thrown in the school BY the parents of those children because they adore her. Kids adore her too. Like, the school knows about my aunt.

When I told a few kids I was substitute, they asked me why I call their ex-teacher (they were old students from my aunt) an "aunt" so I explained a bit of the family tree. They asked me "don't you find her scary?" So, even though she is scary, she is adored the shit out of.

Now, back to me. At school we don't learn full psychology course on how a child brain works but we are taught for signs. Snape showed plenty of those signs.

- clothing

- picking grass

- avoiding subject/nor vaguely wording it

- defensive

And so on. Now, if I had a child like Snape in my class. Believe me, I would not be ignoring him like many teachers did at their school. My heart breaks for Slytherin students, especially Snape. How can I look at a kid who is bullied for existing, ganged up on, and say "he deserves that because he'll become a racist later"

My ideals go against that. He's a child, he was just a kid, yet he got out better than a Sirius for example. The actual litteral definition of "I'm bullied at home so I will bully someone at school"

Sorry, but so many things would change. I'd seperate Remus and Peter from James and Sirius. To detoxify that group. Put the class clowns up front, Severus could be either up front or 2nd row. But James and Sirius definitely wouldn't go behind Snape. Yet they wouldn't sit next to each other.

Reason I want Remus and Peter away is to give them solidarity. At some point with James and Sirius sitting at front, ignoring them (since they actually only like each other), it would be a wake up call and they would lean onto each other much more. Give them their own confidence, because those two have always been trampled on by the main duo after all. Maybe peter would make wolfsbane for Remus at some point and they'll just ditch Sirius and James because peter hates how Remus is treated and Remus would actually embrace his prefect role when peter got involved. Slowly gaining more of an authortive figure to keep his house in line.

I'd probably put lily and Severus apart too, their relationship was not it. They remind me of the kids that would go cry and tell me "teacher, she's so mean to me, she said fuck you"

"But teacher, she began first, she threw sand on my hair"

"No, that's because you told me I couldn't play with your game!"

"That's because you and Emily were mean to me yesterday!"

"That only happened because you didn't invite me to your party"

"Well you told me you wouldn't invite me to your party next week!"

Like, stop! Stop it! Oh my god! Stop 😭. You're making teacher cry here. Lily and Snape relationship pretty much reminds me of that. It's stacking up resentment until it eventually blew up. I would detoxify that duo by partnering them up with different people. Of course, I wouldn't place lily with James. The kid that thinks girls say no is girls playing hard to get. No, James would need an extra class on the no-no-square.

With other slytherins? As long as I am not Minerva or Albus, pulling gryffindors to the front, I'm good I guess. I want equals in my classroom. I don't have enough information about Slytherins, to describe them well in my post but I either would break them up.

Or have them sit in a checker style, each house surrounded by other house. So yeah. As a teacher to be, I disapprove of how the Hogwarts treated Slytherins, especially snape, friendship dynamics would have altered in my class.

This would be my plan honestly. Hope it isn't too umbridge-y 😂

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

HIDDEN FEELINGS

Emily finally lets you join them for a case, but things go south towards the end. But at least the drama brings some hidden feelings to the surface.

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader || tags: post-prison!Spencer, fem!reader, age gap, professor-student relationship, canon-typical violence || wc: 2.8k || navigation

“Penelope showed me a team photo from a few years ago,” you begin as you take a seat next to Spencer on the jet. 

This is the first time Emily let you join them, although only on the condition of staying at the base of operations, to which you agreed without hesitation. You’ve been thinking about how they work in the field ever since you joined the team three weeks ago, and despite almost all of them giving you an insight during conversations, those were just words.

Anyway, he gives you a surprised look at first, but then a small smile appears on his lips the moment you show him the picture on your phone.

He takes the device from your hand and zooms in, taking a better look at the previous members of the BAU. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this version of the team, but the old one? That was my favorite–don’t tell the others, though.”

A quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you take the phone back and moves the zoomed picture to the part where he can be seen. “This short hair? Damn, that suits you so much,” you note with a smile.

“Careful,” he warns you, but there’s no real bite in his voice.

You shrug. “I’m just being honest. It puts some real good emphasis on that killer jawline you have.” It’s hard to miss the crease forming on his forehead, so you’re quick to backpedal with your hands held up. “Sorry, there’s a line I overstepped.”

There’s a strange look in his eyes that can only be seen for a brief moment, but you don’t miss it, and it kicks your brain into overdrive. What was this all about? You saw it, but you simply can’t decode it, no matter how hard you try.

Well, you’re not a real profiler yet, so you don’t beat yourself up over it too much. 

After flashing a small, apologetic smile at him, you get up to pour yourself some coffee in the back, hoping this could avert your thoughts for a while. You’re here to work and learn, you can’t make such flirty comments, even if it’s nothing more than a game.

Because why would Dr. Spencer Reid want something from someone like you? He’s older, a literal genius, an expert in his field, while you’re just a student who got a summer job at the FBI out of pity. Yeah, it must have been nothing more but pity, what else could it be?

“I’m glad I caught you alone,” you hear Emily’s kind voice from next to you. When you look up with a smile, she leans against the counter. “Are you nervous? That’s the unfortunate thing about being among profilers, you know, we notice every single sign that gives these things away.”

“I mean, it’s sure a lot to take in, and we haven’t even arrived yet.” 

There’s a beat of silence while you try to gather your thoughts. First mistake. Emily’s eyes narrow slightly, and she even tilts her head to the side as she watches you, probably looking for the signs that can give away your real feelings. 

“I was thinking more about you and Spencer. I couldn’t help but watch you two interact, and there’s definitely something… I don’t even know. Unresolved? Maybe that’s the best word to describe it,” she says. 

You utter a quiet uhm, which turns out to be the second mistake. 

The unit chief puts up her hands in defeat, but there’s a small, knowing smile on her lips. “Look, forget I said anything, you’ll figure this out on your own.”

And with that she returns to Rossi, leaving you standing there completely dumbfounded. Your gaze turns to Spencer for a moment, but he’s busy watching his boss with a suspicious look on his face until he suddenly turns to you. When your eyes meet, he gulps and returns his attention to his book. 

Having a feeling that he doesn’t need your company, you return to your seat next to Luke, who gives you a questioning look that says, ‘Do I want to know?’ You shake your head, then lean back and close your eyes to get some rest until you land.

At first, you take notes on your phone every time the team gathers to discuss what they’ve found, already stitching the profile’s little pieces together. But soon the amount of information becomes overwhelming and you kinda lose track of where exactly they are now, so you give up and decide to take mental notes instead.

“It’s a lot to take in, right?” Luke asks you towards the end of the day, and you only blink at him with a confused look on your face. “Do you know what might help?” he goes on with a smile on his face, clearly knowing what’s going on inside your head.

In the past few weeks he somehow became the person you trust the most, some sort of a big brother that looks out for you, no matter what. You appreciated his kindness, especially when he gave you insight about what it’s like to be a newbie on this team. 

At least Penelope wasn’t stand-offish with you. Quite the opposite, actually, she even invited you for a drink on your first day.

“Ask questions.” It sounds so simple, yet so hard. How do you ask questions without looking like a complete idiot? He seems to notice what you’re thinking about, because he goes on. “You’re not a profiler, but I know you want to learn. So, ask away whenever you have the chance, I’m sure everyone will be glad to help out if they have the time to explain things.”

You let out a sigh as you put your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “I don’t want to bother them, they have a lot on their plates,” you admit. 

“Okay, I have an idea. While we’re here, we’ll meet in the hotel lobby every night after work, and you can ask whatever you want. How does that sound?” he asks with a smile. 

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be a problem for you?” He takes a deep breath as he rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s not really mad at you. “Alright, this sounds good then. Thank you.”

He nods, and you can tell he wants to say something, but then his attention shifts to something behind you, and you can’t help but follow his gaze. In the door of the room the team’s working in, there’s Spencer who’s watching the two of you with a deep frown, but the moment your eyes lock, he turns on his heels and walks away. Just like that, without saying as much as good night. 

You don’t miss the thoughtful hum Luke lets out at this, but he doesn’t comment on what just happened. 

On the second day of your stay, Tara and JJ offer to take you to the police station in the morning. They both have a pretty suspicious smile on their face whenever they look at you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to remain silent. 

But not five minutes into the trip, Tara turns in the passenger seat to look at you. “What’s your impression so far? This is the first time we brought you along after all,” she notes with a kind smile.

It’s hard to put the flurry of thoughts in your head into words, but after giving yourself a few seconds to think, you give it a try. “It’s a lot to take in, especially when you start brainstorming, but I’m everything but bored. I know I don’t do much to help, but I’m doing my best to absorb as much knowledge as I can. I’m glad Emily decided to bring me along, I’ll have to figure out how to thank her.”

There’s an exchange of glances between the two profilers in the front seats, one that you don’t understand. They looked surprised for a moment, but then they both had that same smile on their lips. 

“What is it?” you ask eventually as you put your hands on the backs of the seats to lean closer. 

JJ takes a deep breath, then looks at you through the rear view mirror. “It wasn’t her idea,” she admits, which draws a questioning hum out of you. “Penelope told Spence that you mentioned how good it would be if you could see us in the field once during your internship, and he convinced Emily to let you tag along.”

A quiet chuckle leaves your lips at this. “I’ll have to thank Penelope then,” you note, although you’re dying to add that Spencer deserves something too.

No, you have to ignore that voice that keeps reminding you of just how perfect he is. It’s kinda pathetic, really, how your mind has been thinking about him nonstop ever since you joined the team. 

Okay, no, it began back during his classes.

Damn it, you think, hoping your internal struggle isn’t that obvious from the outside.

To your luck, the conversation shifts back to the case, and the two profilers tell you trade secrets you usually wouldn’t hear. While you stayed behind with Penelope, she taught you things too, but you wanted to see what it’s like to be a profiler in case you ever wanted to choose this career, so being here was much more valuable. 

When Tara touches a topic you already heard a lot about, the words spill out from your lips before you can stop yourself. “Yeah, Luke mentioned that yesterday.” Her eyes narrow, and for a moment she glances over at JJ, who now has a knowing little smile on her face. “What?” you ask. 

“It’s just,” Tara begins slowly, carefully thinking about how to phrase what she wants to say. “Based on how much effort Spencer put into getting you this intern position, we thought he would be the one to teach you. But it seems like he’s barely talking to you, at least in front of us.”

Your brain momentarily short-circuits at this. “Yeah, he secured this position, but he has a lot of responsibilities, I guess he’s happy someone else takes the time to teach me,” you say hesitantly, and when JJ hums in a way you don’t really like, you can’t stop yourself. “What was that hum? I heard it, there must be a reason.”

She looks at you for a moment through the mirror before turning her attention back to the road ahead. “I’m not sure if happy is the right word, that’s all. Look, I’ve known him for a long time, he’s one of my closest friends, I can see if something’s bothering him. That’s all I’m saying, I don’t want to get too involved in this. You two will have to figure it out yourselves,” she says, closing this topic for now. 

It was too late by the time you noticed there was someone behind you. 

The unsub walked into the police station without any of the present cops noticing, and when he saw you sitting behind a desk, he decided to take you as hostage, so now you’re standing there with his arm around your chest and a knife held to your neck. It’s terrifying, there’s no better word to describe it, but within seconds he has several weapons aimed at him, and you can hear it in his voice that he’s losing hope that he could get out of this alive. 

To you, it doesn’t matter if he regrets coming here, it doesn’t matter if he dies, all you can think about is the possibility of him taking you down with him. He has nothing to lose, why would he leave you alive? 

What happens around you in the next few minutes is a blur. You close your eyes to fight your tears, and it turns out the darkness is almost soothing, especially after you tune out the voices too. But then you hear a gunshot right next to you, and in a moment you feel him let you go, to which you react by quickly taking a few steps away from him. 

When you look back, you can see Matt standing there beside the lifeless body of the unsub, gun in hand, and somehow the sight of a dead man is what makes you break down. The tears are flowing harder than before as you collapse onto the ground, your back resting against the desk you were sitting behind as you pull up your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, come with me.” 

You look up at the person who’s kneeling next to you, and you find Spencer there, watching you with a worried look on his face. There are so many things you want to say, but you simply can’t get yourself to speak up, so you just take his extended hand and let him help you up. He takes you to the small kitchen across the station, far from the unsub, far from the things you want to forget. 

The moment the two cops who are drinking coffee there leave, he closes the door and leans against it with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s defensive, building a distance for some reason, but in your current state of mind, you can’t bother to think about it. So, you just wait as you try to breathe, inhaling then exhaling over and over again. 

“I won’t ask if you’re okay, because it’s clear you’re shaken,” he suddenly speaks up. 

You nod, genuinely glad he doesn’t feel like interrogating you about your feelings. But despite all this, a part of you can’t stop thinking about the why. Why did he bring you here, away from the rest of the team? Or did he just plan to separate you from the body of the man who attacked you until they cleaned up the scene? 

Spencer takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair as he paces in front of you. “You should go back to the hotel and stay there until we go home. I’ll talk to Emily, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I stayed with you,” he goes on, and he finally looks at you–really looks at you–which makes your heart skip a beat. 

There’s so much pain and guilt in those hazel eyes, as if he assumed it was his fault this happened. How can he think that? What on Earth could possibly make him believe the unsub attacking you was his fault? 

Following your instincts, you step closer to him and gulp, still hesitating a little if you should do what you’re planning to do. His brows furrow as he looks down at you, but he doesn’t stop you when you put your hands on his shoulders to make sure he’s focusing on you in the next few seconds. 

“Please, tell me you’re not blaming yourself for what happened,” you say softly. Your heart clenches when he gulps and licks his lips, because you can tell that’s exactly what’s happening, just as you assumed. “Spencer, no one knew he would show up here. This place was supposed to be safe, you couldn’t have known.” 

His hands drop to his sides as he thinks about what to say. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. 

You shake your head a little at this. “It's not your fault.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Spencer points out with a sigh. 

Having no idea what he’s referring to, you give him a questioning look, but he chooses to act instead of speaking, and puts a hand on the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. You return it without hesitation, but it doesn’t last long, because he pulls away eventually to rest his forehead against yours. 

He remains silent for a few seconds, maybe waiting for you to say something, maybe trying to stall to think it through. Eventually, he kisses the tip of your nose and says, “Do you know what bothers me besides bringing you here and putting you in danger? That I don’t know if this kiss was a mistake or the right thing to do. Which one is it?” he wonders, as if you knew the answer. 

He’s right. This is a question even you don’t have the answer to. 

But with so many things going on in your head, from the unsub issue to the kiss, you don’t have the brain capacity to think about the consequences. Because there will be consequences, that’s guaranteed. 

[ghost-doodles]

part 2

so here is basically part 2 of the au.

while i will be trying to stay some what in line with the plot of YOI time line wise some of it might be shortened a bit bc not only am i not much of a writer but im trying to meld together a bit of the jayvik plot from arcane too.

anyway

Unlike Yuuri who evidently had a crush on victor from the start Jayce is a bit further into the closet and only thinks of his feels as deep admiration and like standard idol vibes 

So for a majority of like the first week he is like what the fuck is happening

Instead of having to loose weight to be allowed to skate Viktor says that Jayce needs to get more flexible in order to pull off some more technical moves in step sequences and help with his jumps 

It takes about 3 weeks and while he is doing it Viktor does let him ice skate but he refuses to let him do anything complicated and refuses to teach him 

Viktor during this time is getting along with Jayces mother and trying to get to know Jayce, albeit a tad unsuccessful thanks to his awkwardness 

He also meets Mel and well he doesn’t exactly like her but he is using her facilities so not much he can do about that and admittedly she has some say in shit

he is also working on his own PT for his knee because while he doesn't know what he wants to do in regards to jayce he does miss skating even just for himself 

Right when Jayce was about to be able to fully practice for the first time his old rink mate Ekko comes and starts arguing with him about leaving Heimerdinger and their rink and going to train under Viktor

while not as close given age Ekko also admires Viktor and is a tad jealous 

Jayce and Ekko aren't exactly rivals but they have a bit of a back and forth/ old pupil new pupil vibes 

Jayce is kinda put in a corner because he very much would rather work with Viktor but he kinda abruptly quit from his old coach as he initially thought that he was just going to quit as a whole

Ekko also brings the message from Heimerdinger thinks Jayce shouldn’t be coached under Viktor since Viktor tends to be ruthless with his training and he doesn’t want Jayce to get a head of himself

This cues a bit of an argument between Ekko and Jayce which Mel ends up over hearing

Due to this she suggest that they should have a small competition that if Ekko wins then Jayce goes back to Heimerdinger but if Jayce wins then he gets to choose 

Jayce doesn’t initially want to compete but Mel persuades him by explaining if he wins not only does he get to continue his work with Viktor but it will show what he is capable of 

In all reality she knows that if she host this competition it will be great publicity for her rink and with bring in a lot of supporters and new skaters

Heimerdinger is reluctant but ultimately agrees to it 

Mel wanting to make it even more interesting suggest a piece which has two different opposing compositions one of which is a more up beat opera number which is meant to specify hope and the future the other is a classical piece of longing and nostalgia 

Jayce gets hope Ekko gets nostalgia 

Similar training sequence to YOI except its both Heimerdinger and Viktor working against each other with Jayce and Ekko rather than both of them skaters under one coach like in YOI 

Heimerdinger does keep trying to help Jayce much to Viktor’s silent demise 

Jayce’s thing he is working on getting out of his head an realizing that he’s like actually pretty good and can definitely be an a top figure skater

he is also learning to not be complacent with choreography and elements that if he can do something he doesn't always need to ask

similar to canon where it was viktor who persuaded him to do hextech

Ekko like Yuri is younger but shows great talent especially with his control in the air and his transitions, known for flying across the ice

However, tends to rush through his programs sometimes seeming a bit to fast and not emotionally invested

Debuted the prior season and was able to take 1st in his last JGP and is looking to take the gold in the current Grand Prix 

Viktor adapts his program he was going to skate this season into something for Jayce, something that is supposed to be more hopeful and powerful showing a new Jayce who is coming confidently for the Gold 

Ekko’s is supposed to be a slower piece which follows the nostalgia of his old junior self and even the sadness of letting go but at the end the brightness of a new career in the senior divisions 

They go through training shenanigans both together and separate in similar fashion as YOI while Viktor and Jayce navigate where they want their relationship and coaching to go

[rowansro]

Hehe okay here it’s is, I sort of forgot about it I finished it like a week ago, this is more just yapping than anything, I might turn it into a proper fic at some point :)

After the final break (electra pov)

Okay okay so, i like to think that after their final break porter had done or said something that literally shattered leccy completely. And it hurts them so bad that a day or two after they start full on spiraling and going down a rabbit hole of stuff like ‘i won't ever be able to trust someone again’ ‘why would he say that about me’ and eventually end up to the conclusion that they had done something wrong and that something was wrong with them internally / something wrong with their system so they try to figure out what they did wrong OR what's wrong with them. Then fast forward like two hours and the components have not heard anything from leccy and are getting worried so they send in killerwatt to find out what's going on and he walks into leccy sitting on the floor with their hands inside of them pulling wires out of themselves trying to find the problem, their like in full tears and the tears are getting onto the wires making MORE problems and kw is just standing there frozen in horror with no clue on what to do because their boss is sitting in front of him literally pulling themselves apart and he is NOT trained for this.

Electra is completely oblivious to killerwatt being there and just keeps pulling at wires, just as kw starts walking over, leccy notices him and just as they look in his direction they pull out and accidentally snap the wire that controls their emotions and help them regulate, this sort of severs their emotions. They just kinda stop and look up at KW who is in shock at what he's just watched electra do because he knows what wire they just destroyed and they know had dangerous this situation has just become, as a singular tear escapes their eyes that are like full of horror because they ALSO know what they did, and it's sort of what their aim was, if they cannot feel anything then they can't be hurt by anyone again.

KW sits down in front of them and all theses wires and grabs their hands both to stop them from doing any more harm and to start trying to ground leccy who has literally no ability to process emotion but is somehow the most panicked they will ever be, KW starts frantically calling for wrench and the other components because, well, electras insides are all over the floor. While wrench and all that tend to electra, kw just tries to keep holding leccys hand both for electra and for his own comfort because my man is traumatized, eventually volta or joule notices how traumatized kw is and drags him away.

Killerwatt tries to stay as close to Electra as he can while they recover, the other components have to pull him away to make sure he takes care of himself instead of watching over electra.

I like to think that one of the things about leccys recovery from the breakdown is to do with their emotions, considering that they really went and fucked them up in the breakdown and needed they systems that control their emotions to be replaced they needed to learn lot of things emotionaly again and it kind of changed them as a person, they become a lot nicer and more of a people pleaser, trying theri best ot not hurt someone but also at the same time not letting themselves get to close to other people after they are cleared to be out and about again. Killerwatt his slightly hurt by this but wont show it, over the time frame of a few months KW and electra start to become closer as leccy finds that KW is really good at grounding them when they start to panic or get overwhelmed / overstimulated and slowly opens up to him emotionally. KW at one point does want to talk to electra about his feelings for him but is too scared to because he knows what electra is capable of doing if things work out.

About, i would say 5 or 6 months after the breakdown electra calls for KW late at night and just sort of asks him to sit down next to them on the couch/bed without saying anything else, electra could feel like a panic attack could happen and didnt want to be alone, as they start to feeling like more overwhelmed with their thoughts they sort of interlock pinkies with KW before he catches on to why electra had called him in and properly holds his hand, electra ends up resting their head on killerwatts shoulder and KW just lets them rest for a moment before asking them whats wrong, and in slightly shaky voice they respond with “killerwatt i remember” and KW looks down at them and asks them “remember what?” electra looks up at them with glazed eyes and just bluntly says “i remember how it feels to sit there and rip out my own wires” before they start to weakly sob, although this isn't an odd sight for KW after the breakdown, it's odd for electra to talk about what's upset them so KW pulls them into a proper hug knowing that the physical touch and deep pressure helps electra alot. Electra ends up falling asleep on top of KW and he also eventually drifts off, when electra wakes up killerwatt is still asleep and they kinda have a bit of a ‘holy shit is that what love feels like again’ (they definitely felt this kind of love with porter but as i mentioned before, they had to relearn their emotions) , when killerwatt wakes up leccy apologizes for being an inconvenience and for calling KW in so late the night before but in response KW just hugs them tighter.

Something something, Electra angst in regards to coalectra that end up turning into leccywatt, something something

Im cooking guys I promise

[jitterbugbear]

an uneventful evening

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[solardrake]

Delivering mail to the furthest corners of the server ✉✈

[romanceddawn]

Puzzleshipping: "You gave me your heart, you know..." [Insp.]

❕ Please do not repost to any other sites ❕

[be-an-echo]

Merry Christmas guyyyss🎄

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Gosh, do I love discovery writing. The freedom. The sense of play. The way you have to hold the material lightly and follow where it leads, never being afraid to scrap things that don't work or to rewrite to emphasize things that do. You have the fun of discovering the story you're writing rather than the frustration of being unable to capture the ideas in your head. This way might wind up taking ages, but it makes the writing process such a joy.

[mycological-mariner]

Cool so I get to start training in a forge and welding and steam engine maintenance and fitting on weekends

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[winterrose42]

Finding out youre agorophobic is wack bc its like, if you dont know then for me at least you just go out anyway and dissociate the whole time feel like absolute garbage and take days to recover from a small trip to groceries and finding every excuse possible to drop plans with people until they eventually stopped asking and stopped talking altogether. And now its like, oh. Is this why going outside feels like dying. Huh. And i wanna go out and do things but the thought makes me vomit for a week leading up to it and i was told oh its just being dramatic so yeah cool whatever.

Now im like, okay i actually have to get to used to going out and being around people adn put things in place for the paranoia and anxiety and plan things in advance and i gotta tell myself about it and walk myself through it everyday leading up. And im an adult so fuck everyone i will in fact be taking my headphones and a fidget and wearing my rat jacket as a security blanket in 90 degree weather thank you. I am in fact, allowed to accommodate myself and set boundaries fuck you actually.

[1ncandescentrage]

I'm happy that my chronic pain and I have been living more in harmony as of late