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aubreyprc · 4 years ago

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favourite crime

part six of my sour series

for @florenceremingtonthethird who asked for hotchniss + favourite crime, hope you like it bestie💘💕💓💞 (also big shout out to @ssa-m-187 for editing this lol love u my bestie bff)

-hotchniss affair, which is something me and lili (@eprcntiss ) spoke about for .. two months at 4am because we have mental problems, (love u king) but yes. this does have cheating in it so .. this is ur warning don't come for me i bite :)

ao3

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we'd do

'Cause I was goin' down, but I was doin' it with you

Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

Oh, look what we became

The first time it happens, she’s been on the team barely two months. A bad case in Missouri that lands the team in a tough spot with no good outcome, the loss of three young girls inevitable and it leaves them all drained, hurt, and in need of something that doesn’t leave them drenched in their guilt, in their failure.

They end up in the hotel bar, of course. Everywhere else feeling too far out, no one having the energy or the desire to travel somewhere that would take them further away from their beds for the night. The horrifically pitched screams of the mothers who had lost their children ringing in their ears, a sound that not even the soft but overly loud music playing in the surprisingly busy bar could drown out.

Reid leaves first, followed by Morgan, a soft hand on the younger man’s back as the two leave the bar; the genius taking the unfortunate deaths of the victims harder than the rest of them, him being the one to be in the room when the shots had gone off. Him, and Emily. Emily, who was staring at the drink in front of her, tracing her fingers around the rim of the glass as her mind replays the moment the bullets went off over and over again. Emily, who was unable to even look up to say goodnight to Reid and Morgan, not even realising they had left the table until Hotch gently nudges his knee into hers, sitting across from her and sending her a soft but, layered-with-questions smile, a little tilt of his head as she lifts her lips into a sad smile when she looks up for a moment before dropping her eyes back to her glass. Emily, not even hearing JJ announce she was calling it a night, a soft hand on the brunette's shoulder causing her to jump before turning, a quiet goodnight leaving her mouth as she smiles sadly and avoids eye contact, fearing the barrage of questions behind one look.

Rossi looks at Emily, then at Hotch, whose eyes haven’t left her since they sat down over an hour ago, and decides to make his leave as well, knowing full well that if anyone was going to get Emily to talk, it would be him. Although, looking at her, he can’t help but wonder if she even would talk, knowing first hand the damage that watching three young girls get shot can have on a person, especially a person like Emily. A person who holds so much in, but feels so intensely it could easily become her downfall. He taps Hotch on the shoulder, a whisper of talk to her leaving his lips, and closing the tab on his way to his room; he walks out, looking back one last time to find Emily looking at Hotch, watching as his lips move and Emily responding with a small smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly once Rossi is out of ear shot. Her eyes slowly lift to meet his, the pain behind them almost knocking the air out of his lungs.

“No,” she says in a voice he barely even recognises. “You really don’t want to hear it,” she tells him, shaking her head.

“I’ll have to read the report anyway…” he offers, tilting his head as she looks down again, before gently reaching out and grabbing her hand that rests on the table, stopping the nervous tap of her fingers. As their skin touches, her eyes snap up to his, a look in them he doesn’t think he’s seen before; but the burning in his hand as it rests in hers, and the way the feel of her hand in his has his breath catching in his throat, he assumes he’s probably looking at her the same way.

“Talk to me.” he says to her gently, trying to conceal the way these feelings are making it harder for him to catch his breath properly by speaking in an almost-whisper.

She stares at him for a long moment before she sighs, slowly pulling her hand out from his, but missing the way it felt rested on hers the moment it leaves his grasp. She clears her throat, leaning back into the chair as she tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down at her lap.

“I don’t have anything to say," she says quietly. “You know what happened.”

“I wasn’t in the room.” He tells her, watching as she tenses, starting to pick at her fingers while her hands rest together on her knee.

“No,” she tells him in a small yet stern voice, taking a deep breath before looking at him. "You don’t want to know, Hotch.” When they make eye contact, her eyes bore into his as though she could change his mind with just her gaze.

“I have to know," he says, pausing briefly. “It’s my job to know, Emily. We can talk about it now or, I can read it in the report later in the week. But either way… I’ll know. And I’d rather hear it directly from you.”

Emily looks at him, before sighing, grabbing the drink she hadn’t touched in over an hour and finishing it in one go.

“We’re going to need some more...” she starts, voice trailing off as she watches him grab the bottle of whiskey Rossi had bought for the team before they’d all taken off, and pours them both another drink. She takes it with shaky hands, downing the whole glass before even starting to speak. She then shares everything with him. She tells him how the young girls died, how they were so close to saving them before something even she can’t figure out went wrong, how shots rang out and all she could hear were the cries of the now-dead girls, and how those cries are a sound she'll likely never forget. She tells him how the sight of those three now-dead girls were the only things she could see, how the unsubs almost shot both her and Reid before they were shot by Morgan, how he then pulled them out of the room after saving their lives. She tells him how the rest is a blur, and how the last thing she remembers after leaving was him, standing in front of her asking if she was okay.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her, a unexpected pain blooming in his chest as he watches her wipe her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, unable to move past how small she looked sat there, working through her most recent trauma brought on by the job. He pours her another drink, pushing the glass towards her as she laughs sadly, grabbing the glass and looking at him. He takes her hand again, his eyes on hers and smiles.

“You did everything you could.” He tells her again, and after a few moments, she nods.

Even as they spend another hour draining what's left of the bottle, sharing laughs and sharing stories, the harrowing sound of the girls screams and the sound of the heavy silence that followed, coupled with the sound of mothers' anguish learning of their daughters' deaths is something that remains a constant, similar to a ringing in the ear that lingers even after the event. Sounds they both needed to replace.

It’s the need for the replacement sound that leads them into spending the night together (at least, that’s what they tell themselves the next day). Neither have an explanation of how exactly they ended up in his hotel room, his hands in her hair as she clawed at the buttons of his shirt, his lips on her jaw as he has her pinned on the door, teeth scraping her neck as she tilted her head. No idea how she ended up with her back meshed against the mattress as he pressed above her, entwining their hands at the side of her head as he kissed her, the sound of the cries and the silence and the screams of the mothers effectively drowned out by their soft whispers and sighs, the two hidden in the dark, not thinking of the consequences, the outcome, thinking of nothing but themselves.

It’s after, as the moonlight that pokes through the window catches his wedding ring, the silver band glistening in the room as his arm rests over her, and it grabs both their attention, the room all of a sudden engulfed in a different sort of silence. A silence that only lingers in the presence of two people who stumble over a line that can not be uncrossed, hanging them in the middle of something that feels almost like a crime.

She leaves a few hours later, dressing in the dark while she feels his eyes glancing over her.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow.” She says almost awkwardly. As she grabs her jacket from the middle of the floor, she hears him sit up and the sound causes her to tense.

“Emily—”He starts but she knows what he’s going to say and she doesn’t need to hear it.

“This was a mistake. It was a tough case, we— we had too much to drink and—”

“Em—”

“You’re married, Hotch.” She says, cutting him off, turning to face him. Even in the dark of the room she can see his face pale at the mention of it.

“I know.”

“Let’s just forget about it, okay? Pretend it never happened.”

“Okay," he affirms, and she nods before dipping out of the room, tiptoeing towards her own; and as soon as she’s behind close doors she closes her eyes, leans her head the wall, and curses herself for ending up in a position like this again.

He showers, trying to rub the evidence of her from his body, the hot water burning his skin. As he lays in bed that night his mind runs wild, thoughts of Emily racing through his mind before he’s reminded of his wife, his child, who are at home waiting for him. It's then that the guilt sets like a stone in his stomach, unable to truly understand just what it was about Emily that caused him to break the vows he said to Haley surrounded by their family and friends all those years ago.

Both Emily and Aaron try to move on from it, but something lingers between them.

She remembers the way his lips felt on her body, the way his hands spanned her entire abdomen when flattened against her, the way his fingers laced so gently into hers, the way his teeth left marks on her neck. She remembers how she had briefly registered that his hands might leave bruises but thinking nothing of it at the time, but now she's sat regretting that whisper of a thought because those bruises he left meant he was on her constantly, a stark reminder of what had gone down, branded on her pale skin for days afterwards. The fact that he’s her boss, her married boss no less, has her walking on pins, automatically tensing when he’s around her and actively avoiding being alone with him, overcome with the fear that what they did was unable to remain a one time thing.

He remembers how she sounds whispering (sighing, he tells himself sometimes, before shaking the mere memory of it from the forefront of his thoughts) his name. The way his given name slipped easily from her mouth, the way her body felt under his, the way her lips fit so perfectly against his he's now left with the fear that they might be part of the same puzzle. But more than anything, he remembers the way she looks when she’s at peace, when she’s staring at nothing and thinking about nothing, an easy smile splitting her face when he traced patterns across her arms and asked her pointless questions in the dark and he knows it's a sight he wants to see again. More than the wanting it itself, it's the knowing he shouldn’t want it that leads himself craving it. He wants to feel her lips on his, to feel her hands entwined in his own, to hear her say his first name in a way he doesn’t think anyone has ever said it before, so full of husk yet so soft and delicate, it’s a craving, it’s a crime and it’s one he wants (needs) to commit again, but it’s the knowing he shouldn’t want it that makes it all the more dangerous, and ultimately all the more appealing.

The two spend far too much time catching the other in a deep stare for either one of them to be able to act as though there isn’t a want, a need for a repeat, (for several, repeats) all while knowing the damage they’d do, how much betrayal would follow them around, knowing what they would destroy for just a few moments of whatever it was that they had created in that one hotel room that one time. So when he shows up at her door nine days later, the look in his eyes one she remembers all too well, she isn’t the least bit surprised, and she isn’t even hesitant as she lets him in, closing the door behind her with a bite to her bottom lip.

It’s three weeks later when their fun slowly turns into something neither expected, and it's then that the surprise shows up. It's then that he finds himself wanting to stay the night, to wrap her in his arms and feel the rise and fall of her chest slow as she falls into her slumber, to kiss her softly in the mornings when she’s groggy and content.

Then it's four weeks. When their secret nights in hotel rooms are no longer just sex but comfort, when it's resting in each others arms discussing cases, when it's acting as an emotional beacon for each other, gentle whispering and soft hands running through hair, delicate wipes of tears and tender kisses shared... it’s four weeks in when they finally realise that whatever this started as, it isn’t that anymore. It's four weeks in when they realise this goes far deeper than whatever they had originally been telling themselves it was.

Their affair truly begins four weeks and two days after that first night in Missouri, a betrayal of his vows to the woman who is raising their son alone as he travels for work and chooses to share a bed with another woman, another woman he now has feelings for. Any chance for good this "other woman" may have had, ruined; by choosing trouble, by choosing to catch feelings for her married boss, by choosing to let herself fall so far into something she knows she can never have. Again.

The two fall even deeper into their mess when the feelings expand into love; eight letters, three words neither would ever mutter aloud, keeping the confession unspoken, even if they were both painfully aware of it.

He’s a married man, he shouldn’t be involved with— he shouldn’t be falling for —another woman, let alone his subordinate. She, she’d told herself that when she got out of Interpol, out of the CIA, and into a normal life, that she would avoid trouble, avoid anything even under the umbrella of it, yet three months into being in the BAU, is sleeping and falling for her married boss. They share a bed almost every night in different hotel rooms across the country, and when they're not across the country he’s in her bed, he’s walking around her apartment; it almost looks domestic, almost normal, as long as they both ignore the shiny metal band sitting on his left hand, one that reminds them he isn’t hers, couldn’t be hers and they're brought right back into reality. They are having an affair, and even if they continue to tell themselves it won’t fall apart, that they’ll figure something out, their joint happiness is always shot down by his need to leave, to go home to his wife and pretend as though his heart isn't lingering in her hallway, pretend that he doesn’t crave to be in her bed, wrapped up with her in his arms as they whisper words of no importance. She watches him go and acts like he doesn’t take half of her heart with him, acts as though the thought of him and his wife together doesn’t make her feel slightly nauseous, as though how much she misses him has her wanting to smash every glass in her apartment, as though she isn't overwhelmed with just how deep he rested in her, and how quickly whatever this is had escalated from something that really, should never have happened to begin with.

She's standing in the middle of his hotel room, flattening her shirt and pants as she listens to him speak to JJ on the phone, humming in agreement with whatever the other agent was saying; Throwing her hair over her shoulder she catches him heading towards her, feeling his eyes rake down her exposed neck and cleavage, her stomach fluttering when she catches him smirking at her eyebrow raised in question, continuing on his venture towards her; as soon as he says goodbye to JJ and throws his phone onto the bed, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into his chest, catching her lips with his own as she places her hands on him softly. Smiling as he slowly pulls away, she starts running her hands up his chest to hook her arms around the back of his neck, clasping her hands together as they rest there, gently scratching at his hair as he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer, as if he could join them as one.

"We have to be at the station in ten," he whispers, looking down at her. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Hm," she teases, shrugging her shoulders as she holds back a smirk. "I suppose so."

Aaron laughs, kissing the smile on her face as she chuckles happily.

"Go," he says softly, reluctantly letting go of her. "I'll meet you guys down there."

She nods, grabbing her jacket from the chair; she's turning go to when he gently grabs her wrist, turning her around and kissing her quickly, before she chases his lips, connecting them yet again.

"I'll see you later," she says quietly, smiling as she turns, ducking out of his room and into hers across the hall, leaving a cleaning tip and ruffling the sheets before grabbing her go bag and walking out, bumping into Morgan on her way out the door. The two of them walking towards the elevator when her eyes catch Aaron's as he leaves his room as they pass his door, a small bite to her lip before she looks away.

It's a look that follows him all day, one that means he has to grab her half way through the day, hiding them in a file room while he kisses her like his life depends on it. He thinks, maybe it does.

The case finishes quicker than they expect and they're on the way home that night. He walks up behind her in the back of the jet, touching her elbow to turn her towards him while everyone is preoccupied.

"About tonight..." he starts regretfully, and even though her heart falls out of her chest, she paints on an understanding smile, she has to. He's not even hers.

"It's okay." she says through a sad smile, trying to keep her voice neutral, forcing it not to give away that it hurts, that she'll never come first for him. He looks at her with a sadness she isn't sure she's seen before and it makes her tilt her head slightly, and gently grab his hand as it falls from her elbow.

"Is everything okay?" she asks gently, lacing a few of her fingers through his, their eyes flashing towards the team for a split second before he entwines their hands together; sighing before he looks at her, he just nods softly.

"Everything's fine," he tells her, "I'll try and see you tomorrow?"

"Aaron," she says, forcing him to look at her, "Spend the weekend with your son, it's okay." She smiles at him softly, actively avoiding the word wife or the name Haley. Avoiding his left hand, the cold, harsh metal feeling like a flame on her skin, a reminder of what they are doing, what they were destroying. And even with that knowledge at the forefront of their minds, even though they know this can't end well, that they're hurting people, that if (when) it got out they would lose everything...he would lose his wife and son, his job, his friends... she, her new family, one she'd searched years for and finally found, knowing if (when) they found out about her and Aaron they'd never be able to forgive her for destroying said family, then she'd have no choice but to go back to the life she wanted out of, back into the grasps of undercover operations and fake friends... even understanding all of this is not enough for them to stop, too caught up in each other, too tangled in a web of feelings that border on love and obsession, too fond of nights spent wrapped in each others arms, basking in the afterglow in hotel rooms across the city, across the country, as they laugh and share jokes and stories no one else has heard.

He listens to her, and then spends the weekend with his family and hates that as he watches Haley smile with their son, he's wondering what Emily is doing, the other woman a constant thought, the craving to be around her a pull just a little too strong, and he's at her door Sunday night, a smile on his face as she opens the door, stepping aside to let him through and for twelve hours it's just them. Behind her closed door they can pretend that this is normal, that they are fine. They can pretend that what they have is real.

(She notices the lack of a wedding ring somewhere between late Sunday night and early Monday morning, when he cups her cheek gently with his left hand and her body doesn't tense under the feeling of a cold ring on her skin. She doesn't comment on it.)

Haley wound up joining him and the team at the bar, his invitation more of a formality at that point, a small, we’re just going for a few, something to take our minds off work for a few while, leading to him mentioning that she should come, thinking she’d never accept because she almost never has but then she does. She accepts gladly, a small smile on her face as she mentions something about how she should get to know his friends better, and kisses him quickly before leaving the room, leaving him standing there, his mind running in circles about how the hell he’s going to cope with Haley and Emily in the same room, the same table.

He gives Emily the heads up, tells her the day before that Haley will be joining them, and she just nods, her body a string of tension even as she smiles, a small okay leaving her lips.

Now here he stands, watching as Emily stands at the bar with Morgan, a loose smile on her lips as he talks to her, handing her a drink with a wink and a smirk, and it causes him to clench his fists and look away, back at his wife as she speaks to Garcia, but he has no idea what about as his attention was completely stolen by Emily once again when she and Morgan laugh, a laugh he has only ever heard when it’s just the two of them, a laugh he wishes he could bottle up and keep for himself. He hates the jealousy that flares up in his chest as he reminds himself that he’s sat with his wife, he isn’t supposed to be jealous, he has no right to be jealous. Because, after all, Emily is a free woman to do as she pleases, their ‘relationship’ merely a string of stolen moments, secrets and lies, and he knows she deserves better and that he should let her go. She'll find someone who can— who will love her openly and freely, who will be able to show her off to their friends and kiss her in the streets and take her on dates and share ideas about the future, a future he’s well aware does not and cannot exist for them. But he can’t do that, he can't let her go, because as much as he’s fought his feelings and as much as he bites his tongue and ignores the flutter in his heart when she smiles at him, he loves her. He loves her selfishly and so completely that he won’t let her go, he can’t.

“Aaron?” Haley questions, her tone obvious that it’s not the first time she’s tried to grab his attention. He’s pulled from his thoughts, turning to face her with a small smile. “What are you staring at?” she asks with a laugh, turning to follow his gaze, frowning when it lands on Emily.

“Nothing,” he retorts, bringing the bottle of beer back to his lips; she turns to him with a confused frown.

“Emily and Morgan?” she asks sharply. “Why are you staring at Emily and Morgan?”

He’s silent, racking his brain for any excuse as her eyes stare daggers into his.

“There’s a fraternisation rule, no two members of the same team are allowed to…” he starts, the last words dying on his tongue, “Just making sure they’re behaving,” he says with a slight smile, a hint of a joke in his tone and even as she smiles, nodding her head at his explanation, he knows she doesn’t believe him, knows she’s been questioning his schedule more these last few weeks, wondering about his phone calls and just where he disappears to after them.

“Emily and Morgan?” Penelope laughs, “Please. Emily wouldn’t touch Morgan if he was the last guy on earth, trust me. They’re just friends.”

“Good.” he says, clenching his jaw as he takes one last look at them, his eyes lingering on Emily for a moment too long, he realises, when Haley turns to look at her as well.

Haley brings it up later that night, after Jessica leaves, after she’s checked on Jack.

“Emily seems nice,” she says casually, walking into the bathroom. “Are the two of you friends?”

“Sort of,” he replies, heart hammering in his chest.

“Sort of?” she questions, leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah,” he pauses, looking at her, “She’s a member of my team, we spend time together as a team…”

“But you get along? You like her?”

“I suppose,” he lies, as images of her underneath him, on top of him, lay next to him, smiling, laughing, winking, kissing him, all flash through his mind. Like doesn't begin to cover it, he thinks to himself.

“You seemed very interested in her tonight.”

“What?” He looks up just to see Haley shaking her head, dropping the subject.

“Nothing,” She says, “Never mind. It was nice getting to know them all tonight… It’s a shame I never got the chance to speak to her.” She continues as she walks into the bathroom.

“Yeah…” he says, running a hand over his face, trying to figure out whether the tightness in his gut is because she almost found out about him and Emily, or if it’s because she didn’t.

The sound of the gunshot coming from inside the building causes him, JJ and Reid to freeze, and the silence that rings in his ear piece, has his stomach rolling, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs and terror coursing through his veins. The minute of silence feels like hours, and he’s almost running into the building himself when a gasp of breath echoes through their ear piece, followed by Morgan’s gasping of we're okay, and the terror that had threatened to overtake him turns to relief, turning around to compose himself, the realisation that he could have just lost her making him feel sick.

He turns just as he hears people leaving the building, the two unsubs being taken out by officers, Morgan and Emily following closely behind, her holding her head as she laughs at Morgan and he smiles back at her. He knows he should wait, that he shouldn't have this need to run to her, to make sure she is okay, but before he can even think about it, he's rushing towards her.

"What happened?" he asks as he forces himself not to reach for her as she meets his eyes.

"This idiot thought he could shoot his way out, ended up shooting me right in the middle of my vest." Morgan sighs, rubbing the centre of his chest as he mumbles.

"You should get checked out by the medic," Hotch tells him and he grumbles, sending a nod to the two of them before wondering towards the medics.

"Are you okay?" he asks her once they're out of ear shot.

"Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes at his eyebrow raise. "Honestly, I'm fine."

He grabs her chin gently, forcing her to look at him as he examines the cut on her head, her eyes widening as he cups her face.

"What are you doing?" she whispers frantically, her eyes moving quickly towards the rest of the team who, thankfully, were completely preoccupied, He drops his hands instantly at her question.

"You might need some stitches." he tells her, looking at the cut on her head and she rolls her eyes once again.

"I'll be fine." she replies, but his eyes drop down to hers, a plea in them. "Well, fine." She smiles, laughing when he smirks at her and they walk to the medics, her eyes on the floor as she bites her lip and he gently runs his fingers across hers before heading towards Reid and JJ.

(He goes to her hotel room that night, helps her put cream on the stitches as she leans against the sink, a smile on her lips as he mutters to her about being more careful, before kissing her forehead and walking out of the bathroom. The normalcy of it causing her heart to flutter in her chest.)

He can't help but stare at her, when the team end up at Dave's for dinner one Friday night, and so when she dips away into the bathroom while everyone is distracted, he waits a few moments, drinking the last of his wine before he follows suite, looking behind him to find everyone enthralled in their own conversations before turning to head up the stairs.

Just as he reaches the bathroom door, it opens. She smirks at him as he stands there, before laughing when he grabs her hips and walks them backwards into the bathroom, silencing her laugh with a kiss as he closes the door with his foot, her smile breaking their kiss as she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Hi," she says softly with a smile, one he can't help but kiss again as his own grows on his face.

"Hi. You look beautiful," he whispers against her lips, smiling again as a blush form on her cheeks as she looks down, biting her lip before lifting her head to look at him.

"You don't look too bad yourself." She jokes, laughing once again as he backs her into the sink.

He kisses her, pulls her in by her hips and she goes effortlessly, fitting against him perfectly, slotting together like it was something they were always meant to do.

"Lets go out for dinner," he says as he pulls away. She stares at him, shock written all over her face.

"We— we can't... what if someone—" He stops her with a quick peck.

"Let's. Go out. For dinner." He says again with a smile, and it's one she can't help but reciprocate.

"Okay. Okay," She agrees, smiling as he laces one of his hands through hers. "Where?"

"That's a surprise." he teases quietly before kissing her jaw, then her neck, before she cups his face and pulls it gently to hers.

"We are not having sex in Dave's bathroom." she tells him with a slight laugh, running her thumb across his cheek gently as he pouts.

"Why not?" he smirks, leaning over to catch her lips in his once again, before placing a few more scattered across her jaw and neck.

"Because..." she begins, pushing him backwards playfully before grabbing his face with both hands. "Everyone is downstairs... They'll notice we're both gone soon."

"Fine." He pouts, pressing another kiss to her lips before stepping back from her; a strand of hair falls over her cheek and he reaches out, tucking it behind her ear before holding his hand there, but as he does, he notices her tense under his touch and pull away slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asks her. She just nods.

"I'm fine. I should head back down."

"Emily," He says quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he follows her gaze as it quickly flits down, and then he realises.

His ring.

"Hey—" He says gently, but she just shakes her head.

"Its okay. I'll see you down stairs."

"Emily—" He repeats, but she's gone as soon as the door opens, and he can't help but curse at himself.

(The feel of his ring cold against her skin lingers all night, a harsh reminder that he isn't hers and it has the texture of his ring feeling like a weight, a burn that sticks to her cheek even hours later.)

He grabs her just before she leaves, the two of them the only ones stood in Dave's front lawn.

"Hey," He says to her and she turns to face him.

"Hey." She smiles, but it isn't her smile. "I was just leaving..."

"Emily." He says and she stops and finally looks at him.

"What?" She sighs, "I'm tired, Aaron. I'm going home."

"I'm sorry." He tells her and she laughs, shaking her head.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." She tells him, "Everything is fine."

"Em—" He starts again but she grabs his hand, his right hand, he notes.

"We're fine." She smiles, "I just—"

"I know." He whispers.

"I'll see you on Monday." She tells him and he nods.

"I'll call you," he promises as she starts to walk off, before getting into the car. He watches it drive off before he turns around, choosing to ignore Dave's eyes on him in the doorway.

He takes her for dinner a week later, a feeling of complete normalcy falling over them as they sit at the table. It gives them a hint into what could be, had things been different. It takes them both by surprise how easy their conversation flows, how easy it was to forget just how complicated things truly were and for just one night they were able to pretend that it was just him and her and nothing else mattered. Emily is laughing at something he says while he laces their hands together on the table because he can. She smirks at him, lifting her glass to her lips.

They're both so caught up in each other that neither noticed Penelope entering the restaurant with a date of her own, didn't see the smile on her face drop the moment she spotted the two of them and didn't feel her sense of right and wrong shift completely as she watched her married boss and newfound close friend laugh together on the other side of the restaurant, with their hands clasped together and a look love in their eyes.

Neither Emily or Aaron see her as they leave the restaurant hand in hand, don't spot her as they share a kiss as they walk down the street, right past the table she was sat at and they don't feel her heart shatter, the two people she had come to understand as good, pure, innocent, in something that to her feels like a crime. Unable to understand how Hotch, the man she trusted with her life could be doing this while his wife stays at home and raises his son, she can't fathom how Emily, a woman who embodied good and protection, could be dating a man she knows is married, a man she knows has a son.

Emily and Aaron don't notice her.

Things would have been very, very different if they did.

It all falls apart one week later.

It's starts with an outburst of Penelope in the briefing room on a Monday morning.

"What did you get up to this weekend, princess?" Morgan asks Emily with a smirk, "It seems you still have that glow." He winks, which earn him a playful eye roll and a smile in return.

"Nothing." She smirks, "Why, are you jealous?" She teases.

"Is there something to be jealous of?" He jokes back, raising an eyebrow at her as they take their seats.

"No." She shrugs with a smile, watching as he squints at her.

"So you didn't do anything this weekend?" Garcia asks, and the room goes silent as Emily looks at her with confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She laughs, "I...?" She trails off, but her confusion has her stunned for words.

"Over the weekend? You had no plans? Didn't go anywhere?"

"What are you getting at?" Emily questions, as the normally overly sweet, nice, go-lucky tech analyst she's come to see as a friend interrogates her.

"Well, you're always asking other people what they do over the weekend yet whenever anybody asks you you seem to avoid the question... Is there a reason for that?"

"Pen?" Morgan mumbles to his best friend, raising an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion everyone else is.

"Does no one else find it strange that we seem to never get any information on what she does over the weekends... It's like she's sleeping with a— "

"Garcia." Hotch scolds as he stares at her intensely and the blonde woman goes silent.

"Of course you defend her." She mumbles under her breath just loud enough for him to catch and he stands.

"My office." He tells her, already walking out and Penelope freezes, regretting her outburst the minute she finds all eyes on her, and she walks out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Morgan asks the rest of the team, who shake their heads with shock. Apart from Emily, of course, who feels a stone set in her gut as she watches her leave.

"Do you care to explain what that was about?" Hotch asks the moment they are sat down.

"How could you?" Penelope asks him sadly, looking at him.

"I'm sorry?" He asks her, a frown on his face.

"You... You have a wife at home, and a— a child. A family." She says, shaking her head.

"Garcia? What are you—"

"I saw you." She tells him, finally meeting his eyes and his heart drops to his stomach, "You and Emily, at the restaurant."

He remains silent, processing her words.

"I always saw you as... as good. You were a leader and you had the respect of everyone in the room and you always did the right thing and now? Now I don't know what you are." She pauses, shaking her head and looking down. "No— I— You're a man who cheats on his wife."

"Penelope—"

"I don't want to hear this. I'm not the one you owe an explanation to." She looks at him, "Either you tell Haley or I will. I refuse to be a part of this, to let you do this."

"There's more to it—"

"No," she sighs, "There isn't." She stands, "If that's all, sir."

"Garcia." Hotch says and the woman turns to face him, but no other words form.

"I'll give you a week to tell Haley." She says, and then she's out of his office, her ultimatum hanging in the air behind her.

He takes a breath, trying to calm down as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest and he stands, making his way back into the briefing room, avoiding eye contact with Garcia as she apologizes to everyone.

"Prentiss," he calls at the door, "A word, please." He says, already walking out of the room.

Emily stands, looking at Penelope as the woman refuses to look at her and she knows what's about to happen before she even leaves the room.

As she walks into his office, she finds him closing the blinds.

"She knows, right?" she asks and the defeated look on his face tells her before he does.

"Yes," he says, "She saw us at the restaurant."

Emily nods, taking a seat on his couch as a sick feeling washes over her.

"She said either I tell Haley or...or she will."

Emily remains silent, just nodding her head, taking everything in as best she can; Aaron takes a seat next to her, sighing as he sits down.

"You should tell her," Emily whispers, "It's better coming from you than from Penelope."

"I know," he whispers back, "I just—"

"I know," she says quietly, accepting his hand when he laces his fingers through hers.

"We'll talk about this tonight," he tells her, and Emily just smiles sadly before she stands, slowly pulling her hand from his.

She's stood in the middle of his office, neither sure what the next move is, neither sure what the next move should be.

"We should..."

"Is she going to tell the team?" Emily interrupts, the realisation that their...whatever this is...going public means people actually knowing about it hitting her a second time around.

"I don't know," He admits.

"Okay," she whispers, clearing her throat as she turns to leave. He grabs her hand, forcing her back to him before he kisses her, wrapping his hands in her hair as he kisses her like it will be the last chance he gets. (He realises it might be). She kisses back just as intensely, the potential finality of it overwhelming her as they pull away, his forehead resting on hers.

"We will talk. Tonight," He whispers into her mouth.

"Okay," she replies, before slowly backing away, before she turns and is out of the door.

The smell of her perfume lingers in his office, and he stands surrounded by it for a few more moments before there's a knock at his office door.

"No case," JJ tells him as she opens the door, "I'll let everyone know about last week's reports that need finishing."

He can only nod, shock still having him at a loss for words, and without any indication of there being something wrong, she smiles before leaving his office.

Hotch walks out an hour later, catching Emily's eyes as he heads for the elevator, his heart feeling like it could fall out of his chest as she just smiles sadly at him, already accepting that they were over, that they had to be.

Once he arrives home, he drops his brief case onto the floor and just looks at Haley with eyes of guilt and a hole being eaten into his stomach by nerves.

"I have to tell you something."

It takes four hours of screaming, crying, shouting, and one ultimatum before he leaves the house, a weight still on his shoulders as he drives to her apartment with a heavy heart, Haley's words ringing in his ears.

"You have to choose," she tells him, "Me or her. Her or your son."

"Haley—"

"Choose," she says, "Your family? Or Emily?"

He knocks, his heart feeling like a burden as it thumps in his chest, and as she answers the door, the simple question of his family or Emily doesn't seem so simple anymore.

She steps aside to let him in, closing the door behind her just like all those other times. Except, this time she isn't filled with excitement and happiness, rather with dread and heartache, knowing what he had come to say before even opening his mouth.

"I told you dinner was a bad idea," she jokes, he lets out a breathy laugh, wondering just how much longer he could have had with her had they just stayed in. "What happened?" she asks quietly, eyes trained at the ground next to his shoes.

"She was upset, angry. Rightfully so." He pauses before taking a deep breath and speaking quickly. "I have to choose," he says to her, his eyes landing on hers as they lift back up towards his face. "It—it has to be her," He admits sadly, "for Jack."

Emily nods, squashing down the pain with a deep inhale.

"I know," she tells him, "I get it."

"I wish—" He stops, shaking his head as he looks to the ground.

"Me too," she breathes.

"If things had been different... if—"

"But they're not," she tells him curtly, her voice thick with emotion and misplaced hurt. "You have to choose your family, Aaron. It's okay. I get it, honestly."

"None of this is okay," he says with the shake of his head. "This shouldn't be so hard."

She doesn't reply, just looks to the floor, heart breaking in her chest as she realises that this really is it for them, that whatever they had was over now and the aftermath of them had just begun. He takes the few steps to stand directly in front of her, their eyes locking as he stands inches from her and he takes her face in his hands.

"I don't regret this," he admits to her. "I should. I know I should. We caused so much damage and there are so many reasons as to why I should but I don't. I can't."

"Me neither," she whispers, leaning into him.

He catches her lips in his slowly, basking in the way she feels; the way her fingers clasp behind his neck, the way her hands press up against his chest, the way her body bends into his perfectly. As they part, she smiles.

"I hate you," she tells him, and he laughs, running his thumb over her cheek.

"I hate you too." He whispers back with a smile of his own, before kissing her one last time.

The irony of that one four letter word is not lost on either of them.

"I should go." He whispers after a few moments, before kissing her one last time. "I meant what I said. I don't regret this. Any of it."

"I don't regret it either," She assures him, lacing her fingers through his as they rest on his cheek before bringing their hands down, smiling sadly as she steps away from him. He clears his throat before he starts walking, holding down the door handle before he turns to face her.

"I— " He says.

"I know," she tells him, "Me too."

And just like that he turns away and walks out of her door for the last time, the sound of the click of the lock drowning out her sobs as she curls over, leaning against the couch as she tries to catch her breath, tears finally falling freely down her face.

Three hours later, she makes the phone call.

"I want back in," she says sternly. The man on the other line whistles.

"Five months..." Clyde says "I had you down for at least a year."

"Yeah, well.."

"Is everything okay?" he asks her.

"That depends, is that London job offer still open?"

"For you? Yes."

"Then everything is fine," she tells him.

"Emily—"

"I'll explain it all when I'm back. It doesn't matter right now."

"Can you get a flight out on Monday?"

"Yes."

"Then...welcome back, Agent Prentiss." Clyde smiles, and Emily closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, welcoming the feeling settling over her now. Some semblance of relief, maybe, from something that shouldn't be a solution to a problem that shouldn't have happened to begin with.

He lets his tears fall on the journey home, back to his family. He takes a few minutes in his car, sitting in front of his house, to compose himself before going inside.

He's rocking his son to sleep that night, his mind replaying his time with Emily as he stares out of the window when Haley comes up behind him, throwing her arm over his shoulder gently.

"We can work through this," she tells him, and he ignores the voice in the back of his head that makes him question if he really even wanted to. "There's a house in Boston just a few miles away from the major crimes unit, if you get the transfer we should look into it."

"Sounds good," he responds half heartedly, and she kisses his cheek before walking out of the room and he goes back to staring out the window, starting to actively wonder if choosing family was the right thing to do.

Emily hands in her resignation to Strauss four days later, words of apologies and a job offer in London that she couldn’t give up falling from her mouth as the older woman accepts it, wishing her the best of luck for the future and letting her know there will always be a job for her at the FBI should she choose to return one day.

She leaves a different letter on his desk, one that reaffirms that she doesn’t regret what they did or what they had, and that the last five months they spent together were the happiest she had ever been and that maybe, if things had been different they could have been something great. She tells him she understands his decision, and that she hopes he finds happiness with his family. She ends it with an I love you, something she’d debated for awhile before knowing that she had to tell him, that there couldn't be a single thing she regrets about their relationship. She heads out of his office, wondering whether she should say goodbye to the team she’d started to look at as family before deciding she couldn’t, not if they were going to be aware of her relationship with their boss; she'd rather live in denial, refusing herself proper goodbyes, than finding out how they may hate her after finding out about everything.

The team do find out, three days after learning about Emily’s sudden departure, their questions answered by Penelope when she explodes with the secret she wished she never found out. They never get the chance to confront either of them, Emily somewhere unknown and the announcement of Hotch’s transfer getting to them too late. The man already in a different building in a different state.

He finds the letter the day after she leaves, reads it more than three times over. His mind echoes with her final words, the I love you feeling like a stab to the chest, as snippets of a life that could have been if things were different flash before his eyes. It makes him furious. Furious that he fell in love with her and even more furious that he had to pick his wife. His son. His family. He transfers to Boston, he and Haley starting fresh in a new state, a new home and a new job.

But the ghost of Emily lingers. How could it not?

He and Haley divorce a year later, some things just unable to be fixed, and he thinks about calling her, telling her that he loves her too, even all these years later... but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because she could be happy in London, could have found someone who can love her the way he wishes he was able to from the start, and he won’t destroy that possibility for her.

She builds a life in London but she never fully moves on, a string of short term relationships left in his wake because no one was ever able to make her feel the way he did, and she doesn't think anyone ever will. She thinks about calling him, wonders if he and Haley were ever able to recover from his—their—betrayal, but a call from her could have repercussions, she knows that, and it stops her every time.

They never do find their way back to each other, and forever remain a bittersweet memory each can look back on with a smile, knowing that even after everything, they could never regret what they became, those five months of something better than never having anything at all.

fin

#hotchniss sour series #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #tw / affair and cheating #just hotchniss having an affair :/ that’s it #but it’s sad :/#and :/#they’re so in love but he’s married #yknow #anyway #yup #hotchniss affair rights 💞💕💘💓#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner

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viastro · 4 years ago

Text

pretty u | boo seungkwan

ミ★ synopsis: in which vernon and chan come up with the brilliant idea to drown seungkwan in the wave pool to get your attention.

ミ★ genre: lifeguard!reader, humor, fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of peeing in the wave pool (is that even a warning ??)

ミ★ word count: 2,126

ミ★ pairings: seungkwan x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! there’s absolutely no trace of angst in this, and it’s been a really long time since i’ve written a oneshot without any angst HAHAHA this is just something lighthearted i came up with at like two am last night. hopefully you guys enjoy it ! remember to give lots of love to seungkwan <333

“Do we have to go into the wave pool? I’m pretty sure all the kids pee in it.”

“Don’t kids pee in every pool?” Chan counters, and Seungkwan frowns at that. The sudden realization that children and some grown adults will pee in any large body of water they see hitting him like a truck. Vernon laughs at Seungkwan’s facial expression changing into one of disgust, and pats him on the back. “It’s okay Seungkwan, we’ll all take a shower after we leave the waterpark anyways.”

The three walk up to the wave pool with Seungkwan still being disgusted at the fact that children and some grown adults find the pool as their personal bathroom. That is, until he looks up and sees who’s at the lifeguard station.

“Holy shit.” Seungkwan mutters, causing Chan and Vernon to look in the direction he’s staring at, just to find you sitting in the tall stool. You look around at the different people in the wave pool, making guesses in your head at who may be peeing as you also keep an eye out for anyone drowning.

it’s how you find joy in your shift.

“Ooo~ Kwannie has a crush!” Chan teases, causing Seungkwan to reach out and slap his shoulder. “Shut up! I just thought they were pretty.”

“Go and talk to them.” Vernon says, pushing Seungkwan in the direction of your lifeguard stand, just for Seungkwan to just head straight into the wave pool with no other thoughts. Vernon and Chan share a glance, before following after their red headed friend.

“Since when have you been shy? You love talking to people.” Chan asks once they catch up to Seungkwan. They’re now thigh deep into the water, but Seungkwan keeps sneaking glances at you.

“I bet that kid’s peeing right now. There is no reason for him to be looking that pleased in a god damn wave pool.” You mumble as you stare at the child with an odd smile on his face. You know, the one that you make after you’ve held in your pee for a long time and finally got to the toilet.

Yeah, that type of smile.

“I don’t know I’m nervous and they’re working! I don’t wanna bother them when they’re booked and busy. They gotta save lives you know.” Seungkwan tells the two, and they just frown at him as the water has now reached their chests. Chan and Vernon share another glance, before turning back to Seungkwan.

“That sounds like a bunch of excuses.”

“And what about it?” Seungkwan asks, and Vernon squints at him. He opens his mouth to respond but Chan just lets out a laugh and steps in between them, stopping the two from almost having a brawl in the wave pool. “It’s fine! We can get Kwannie to talk to them later.”

“Aye now I didn’t say all that…” The two don’t listen to his protests as Vernon high fives Chan, telling him that’s a great idea. Seungkwan lets out a sigh of defeat, deciding to just stand around in the wave pool as they wait for the waves to come.

He doesn’t know why his friends are so invested in his love life. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been in a relationship since high school? And it only lasted two weeks because Seungkwan found out that they don’t like Wonder Girls? Vernon and Chan didn’t blame Seungkwan for that though. They know how much their best friend loves his girl groups.

It’s nearing the end of summer break, and the trio decided to go to the water park as a means to end summer with a bang. If we ignore the fact that Seungkwan almost drowned, Vernon almost passing out when there was a drop on one of the slides, and that Chan fell off the floatie in the lazy river, then I guess he could say it was a rather successful day. Seungkwan sputters when Vernon splashes water into his face, knocking him out of his thoughts.

“You gonna keep staring or are we going to have a water fight?” Chan asks with a playful smile, and Vernon motions for Seungkwan to come at them. “Alright, you guys asked for my wrath.”

Your eyes end up landing on a group of guys that look around your age that are laughing loudly as they splash each other. You raise an eyebrow when you take notice of the red head, and you find yourself entranced by how pretty he is. From his kind eyes, to his high cheekbones, and his infectious laughter, you find yourself smiling slightly.

Vernon takes notice of your staring, and smirks to himself, coming up with a plan to get you and Seungkwan to talk. When Seungkwan turns around, Vernon quickly whispers the plan into Chan’s ear, and the youngest grins, nodding his head.

“Alright, Seungkwan.” Vernon announces, and Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. He turns his head, only to feel his heart drop into his stomach at the mischievous smiles on Chan and Vernon’s faces. He takes a step backwards when he realizes that the waves are beginning to form.

“Whatever you guys are planning, the answer is no.”

“Okay well, we’re going to do it anyways.”

???!!!???

“So basically, we’re going to the deep end.” Chan explains as Vernon steps forward and grabs Seungkwan’s arm, dragging him further into the wave pool without asking for permission. Seungkwan begins to protest, but he’s no match to Vernon’s strength as they go into the deeper part of the wave pool. “And then you’re going to pretend to drown.”

“I’m gonna what?”

“You’re going to pretend to drown, and then the pretty lifeguard will see. Then they’ll come and save you, and suddenly we do a time skip and you’re hearing the wedding bells.” Chan finishes, and Seungkwan just shakes his head vigorously.

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay great. Hold your breath!”

“WHA-” All Seungkwan gets is a mouthful of chlorine as the big wave comes and Vernon and Chan push his head underwater. He flails his arms above the water as another wave comes, and you squint in their direction when you see the red head not being able to swim.

“Oh shit.” You quickly take off your sweatshirt and leap into the water, swimming over to the trio who are trying to help the pretty boy out from under the water. Seungkwan kicks Vernon and Chan’s legs under the water, and they let him pop up to take a breath of air, “YOU SAID PRETEND TO DROWN!”

“My bad!” Chan states before they shove his head back underwater.

“Excuse me!” You exclaim once you reach the three, and you help the pretty boy out of the water. He coughs once he’s out from under, and you hand him the floatie you have. He runs a hand through his wet hair, clinging onto the red floatie like a lifeline as the last big wave hits.

“Are you okay? I think we should take you out of the wave pool.” You tell him, and Seungkwan nods his head. He’s incredibly embarrassed but he can’t really let it sink in due to the fact that his two best friends almost drowned him.

You lead the pretty boy out of the wave pool, with you dragging him out as he holds onto the floatie. Vernon and Chan follow from behind, grinning at the sight of the two of you.

Do they feel bad?

no <3

“I think I inhaled a whole lot of pee water when I was under.” Seungkwan mutters when the two of you finally make it out. You wrap a towel around him that you grabbed from one of the stations on your way over, and you giggle at what he said.

“Honestly, whenever I’m on lifeguard duty I kinda just look around at all the kids and adults to see who may be peeing. I’m 98% sure that I saw a kid pee right before the wave hit.” You tell him, and you laugh when you see his expression morph into one of disgust. Seungkwan’s eyes sparkle at the sound of your laugh, and Vernon and Chan quietly squeal as they watch from the other table.

“I can get you some water if you want. Swallowing pool water is kinda nasty.” You offer, and he shakes his head at you. “It’s okay. I’ll just have my friends go and grab me some since they’re the cause of me almost dying.”

You nod your head as you remember them not making any move to help the poor guy once the wave started to hit. Seungkwan lets out a breath before extending his hand out towards you, “Hi, I’m Seungkwan. Thank you for saving me.”

You grin, reaching out and grasping his hand, giving it a firm shake. You ignore the slight tingle in your stomach at the fact that you’re currently shaking the hand of someone so pretty, “Hi, I’m yn. I’m glad that you didn’t drown.”

“You know what, me too.” Seungkwan tells you, and you let out another laugh, shaking your head at him. You turn and glance over at the pool once you hear your fellow lifeguard blow his whistle at you, waving his hand over so that you can go back to your post. You give Seungkwan a regretful smile as you stand up and begin walking back, “I have to go back to my spot now. Make sure to drink lots of water!”

“What time do you get off?” Seungkwan asks, and you pause, turning back around so that you’re facing the pretty man. He’s staring at you with a hopeful expression on his face, and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

“I get off at 5, so in around thirty minutes or so.” Seungkwan nods his head at this information, before giving you a thumbs up. “I’ll wait for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, before waving again and walking back over to your post. You run a hand through your hair, smiling as the feeling of excitement flows through you at the fact that you have a date after your shift is over.

While Vernon and Chan walk back over to Seungkwan, with Vernon placing a cup of water down before his friend who has a dazed expression on his face. “So… did the plan work?”

Seungkwan bites the inside of his cheek, nodding his head, and the two punch the air in victory. However, Seungkwan glances up at the two, a death glare on his face as he stares at them. Vernon and Chan quickly stop celebrating, knowing that this may be the last thing they see before Seungkwan commits homicide.

“You’re gonna kill us?”

“Yup.”

“Can we at least get a head start?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

And with that, Vernon and Chan begin to speed walk away from Seungkwan, knowing that they aren’t allowed to run on the pool deck. However, Seungkwan is quick to catch up to the two, pulling them both into a headlock as they quickly scream out apologies.

You watch the three play fight with an amused smile on your face, knowing that his two friends set up Seungkwan to drown so that they can catch your attention. You look away, biting back a smile at the fact that their plan worked though.

“What are you smiling about?” You turn your head to see the child you’re 98% sure peed in the pool staring up at you from the water. You raise an eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh, you know. Just another day saving lives.” You respond, and the kid frowns at you.

“But you’re just sitting there.”

“And I’m 98% sure you peed in the pool, you wanna keep going?” You ask, and the kid scoffs before swimming away from you. He turns around to shout, “You’re mean!”

“Use the bathroom next time! It’s just a few feet away!”

“Damn. You two are perfect for each other.” Chan mutters after Seungkwan’s done choking the two. They’re all just sitting at the table, watching you argue with the child. Vernon nods his head in agreement when you stand up from your chair to point at the kid, “Yeah, you’re both snarky.”

“And we also save peoples lives.” Seungkwan adds, and Chan tilts his head to the side.

“You don’t save live-” Vernon quickly places his hand over Chan’s mouth to stop him from speaking when he notices Seungkwan’s eye twitching at them. Vernon laughs, patting Chan’s head, “Silly. Of course Seungkwan saves lives! He spared us from seeing God earlier.”

Chan nods his head once Vernon removes his hand from covering his mouth, and Chan lets out a smile at their red haired friend.

“Right… you save lives.”

“Of course!”

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dex-xe · 4 years ago

Note

if you’re still taking requests i’d love to see “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” with alison and thomas cause u know that lil bitch gets panic attacks/meltdowns and i feel like alison’d be hella good at talking him thru em

Thomas, Alison, Pat & the Captain General #23: “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

(So this is a fic for these three, I couldn’t decide who to write so here’s all three of them trying to deal with an upset Thomas. Also,, for some reason these are getting no interaction on ao3, yes they’re on there as well, so if anyone wants to go check out some of my stuff on there pls do @/littlemouseinapartyhat :))) Also I know all the fics so far have focussed on a select few characters but the next one will be the Button House women on a sleepover,, spoiler alert Fanny joins in and has fun :P)

Prompt list

Inbox

Far too many times, Pat and the Captain had discovered Thomas buried to his eyes in the murky green water of the lake. It was hardly a surprise to either when Thomas had bolted from the house and dove into the water with the arrival of a new Lord Byron with film crew in tow. As soon as his overwhelming emotional meltdown had begun, Pat and the Captain had shared one single glance across the film set, a knowing glance of full understanding of what they must do later. Their usual nightly patrol was punctuated by a detour to the lake where they, like usual, would sit on the grassy bank beside the water for two hours persuading Thomas to come inside. They’d eventually peacefully appease him and watch as Thomas took the long and silent walk back to the house where he’d dramatically flop into his bed - and remain there for days on end. Pat waited until the Captain had finished gawking after Adam to catch his arm and drag him swiftly towards the lake. They stood on the shoreline watching Thomas huff and puff in the dark water, running his fingers repeatedly through his soft curly hair. “So what do we do exactly?” Someone asked. Unaware they had been followed, both men spun around to find Alison behind them, hands on hips gazing out at Thomas. Pat turned back to face the lake, stepping up the algae ridden waterline. “Thomas!” He called. “Thomas! Are you alright?” Thomas didn’t respond. Instead ducking further below the surface to drop his nose under the water too. “Listen, Thorne!” The Captain shouted out to him. “It’s getting dark, you must come inside at once.” “Does he listen?” Alison asked. “Eventually,” the Captain sighed. “You might care to take a seat, Alison. He can take a little while, whiny child.” Alison perched on the edge of the bank, picking at the grass as she rested her chin on her knees, ready to watch whatever Pat and the Captain had planned for the poet. “Thomas, do you want to talk about it?” Pat shouted. “I get you’re upset, mate. But come out and we can have a chat, yeah? What’s wrong?” Thomas stayed silent, staring blankly back as if not a single thought was running through his mind. “I know you don’t feel well, and I won’t pretend to know what’s happening in that little brain of yours but talking it out will make you feel a thousand times better, I promise,” Pat told him. “Now listen here, Thomas. I demand you listen to Patrick and vacate the water with haste,” the Captain yelled towards him. “The film crew’s left, Tom, nothing left here to worry about,” Pat said. “You can come inside and calm down a touch, yeah? Letting it all out will do you the world of good.” “The sun is setting, Thorne. Whatever this silliness is, you had better push it down deep and come inside!” “Captain, that’s not exactly the best advice at the moment,” Pat told the Captain covering his frustration with a small chuckle. “We’re here to fetch him from the water, not provide a therapy session.” Pat turned fully towards the Captain and held his hands out to try and placate him, hoping he wouldn’t resort to his idea of talking never helping - as he had insisted with Fanny only weeks earlier. “If we find out what is troubling him, we can get him out.” “But-“ Alison stood up abruptly and stepped between the two of them. “Okay, well you guys aren’t helping him in the slightest,” she said. “What? I’m helping?” They said simultaneously, snapping to face each other and shoot incredulous looks. “You’re not doing anything!” “Okay, my turn,” Alison returned to watching Thomas’ morose face above the water. She took her phone from her back pocket and dropped it onto the bank before pulling off her heavy green jumper. She stepped into the lake, muddy water splashing about her ankles and coating the cuffs of her jeans. She sighed at the thought of slaving over laundry the next morning to recover her best jeans. “What the bally hell are you doing?” The Captain questioned. “You can’t seriously be going out there?” Pat said. “Fetch Mike if I start to drown, hey?” She said before wading deeper into the water. She was pleasantly surprised that she could keep her feet planted firmly on the silty bottom of the lake as the freezing winter water pooled around her legs, then hips, all the way up to her shoulders, and to the point where she had to push up onto her tiptoes to keep her head above the surface. Reaching Thomas within a matter of moments, Alison stopped in front of him and dropped ever so slightly so she was eye to eye with him. “Thomas,” she said quietly. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?” She reached a dripping hand from out of the water and reached as if to cup his cheek, hovering millimetres away. “Can you hear me, Thomas?” Thomas nodded jerkily, trying not to break his eye contact with Alison. “Good, you don’t need people shouting advice at you from the shoreline. You need someone to bring you back down, don’t you?” He nodded again. “You’re floating, aren’t you? Well above the lake and you feel like you can’t come down because everything that’s happening in that head is keeping you up. I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes,” his voice cracked. “I’ve been there, Thomas,” Alison confessed quietly. “I’ve felt that: where you desperately need someone to catch hold of your leg and just pull you back down. It’s a panic attack, Thomas, or something similar; I’m not sure but it’s nothing to be afraid of. I just need you to focus on me, yeah? And the water. The water? The water! It makes you feel sick, doesn’t it? Can you feel it, can you feel that nauseous feeling like when you touch someone living? It’s there, isn’t it?” A thought overtook Alison, a simple but risky idea. It could bring Thomas straight back to reality, or it could make him feel a thousand times worse. Her hand stayed in position close to Thomas’ face, as she flicked her attention to it slightly. Leaning forward, her hand pressed into his cold form fading through his skin momentarily. Thomas took a deep breath, he had no need to but the overwhelming emotion had stopped his breaths for so very long. “Can you feel it? Does it make you feel, Thomas?” She whispered, trying hard to keep her balance on the lake bed and not fall straight through Thomas. “Fair Alison,” Thomas whispered. “I- I feel sick.” “Good, it’s called ‘grounding’. Using the things around you to bring you back to reality. I’m right here with you, so use my touch, my voice,” Alison said calmly. She couldn’t help but think about the first anxiety attack she’d ever experienced. Year eleven, minutes before a presentation on igneous rocks - Mike had been the one to sit on the corridor floor with her and coach her through it, using the very same techniques she was employing for Thomas. “When there are people in the house, people who work to mock me, it is as if every noise, every colour, every person is simply too vibrant,” he whispered, barely audible to Alison. “It is as if every bone in my body is being accosted by the senses, too many senses.” “I know, I know,” Alison muttered. “I know, Thomas. But you mustn’t drown yourself in the lake! This doesn’t feel particularly pleasant for me, let alone the undead. So, don’t drown yourself, please. One of the best things about my near-death and questionable spiritual abilities is that I can help you.” “None of the others understand this horrific feeling,” Thomas said. “Patrick and the Captain, they do their best. But Captain is rather harsh and Pat insists on talking nonsense and then trying to hug me. I do not feel I need that.” “Then come to me, Thomas,” Alison urged. “Don’t drown yourself, what kind of a solution is that? Find me and we’ll talk.” “I do not wish to disturb when you are-,” Thomas started. “No, you’re not a disturbance. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Thomas nodded gently, trying not to put pressure on the cold spot where Alison was touching his face. “Now, I’m freezing to death out here, and I’m fairly sure there’s a fish in my jeans. Let’s go inside, you can choose a film, yeah?” “Yes please.” The light had dropped quickly, the orangey grey light of the evening had been replaced by darkness. They began the trudge back to the shore where Pat and the Captain were sat side by side on the bank, trying slightly too hard to seem nonchalant a hide their eavesdropping. Pat jumped up as he realised they were coming back, and the Captain uncrossed his legs to stand beside him. “Fantastic work, Alison!” Pat said, reaching out to take Thomas by the arm. He cowered away slightly, only to be guided slowly forward by Alison; more herding him than actually touching his waistcoat. Pat retreated holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s probably a record!” “Whatever did you say to get him away so quickly?” The Captain asked. “Stop being so nosy,” Alison chuckled, ringing the water out of her dark hair. “Thank you for your help, Pat, Cap. But just leave him be for a little while, okay? Come on, back in with you,” she said turning to Thomas. “I could do with a hot shower and some clothes that don’t contain ten gallons of pond water and an aquarium of creatures. Will you be okay sitting with the others for a bit while I get changed, Thomas?” Thomas contemplated and then nodded once at her beginning the long walk to the safety of the house. He was still away with the fairies, still flying high above the lake waiting for his feet to return to solid ground. But concentrating very hard, focusing on Alison in front of him - her voice and her touch, he could almost feel the very tips of his toes skimming the waterline.

#are tags gonna work today????#lets find out #apparently not #bbc ghosts #ficbymax

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mochirou · 4 years ago

Note

prompt “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

HELLO THIS GOT LONG

•♡︎•

like real people do

krbk, getting back together, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

tw alcohol, intoxication, emeto, self neglect

——————————————

A month. That’s how long it’d taken for him to break and hit the call button. It was a mistake, really, his finger had been hovering over the icon for five minutes at least. The tap barely registered through the haze in his head, and the ringing was a dull, faded noise that merely bounced off the thick layer of fog surrounding him.

It echoed through his empty apartment, which was depressingly colorless. He had refused to buy anything that wasn’t some shade of grey or orange, but now that his stuff was gone, he kinda really missed the obnoxious neon hues of his clothes strewn everywhere.

He never thought he’d miss the mess that he had angrily mentioned while chasing him out. The apartment was too sterile, bearing no trace that anyone had ever lived there. Except for the table, filled with empty glass bottles whose contents were an unwitting part of the failed attempt to drown and bury feelings that were now threatening to boil over inside of him.

“Ka… Bakugo?” The voice was soft and hesitant, laced with sadness, and an emotion he couldn’t pin down.

“E-Eijiro— I didn’ expect you to pick up…” He slurred his words, half from inebriation and half from crying.

“What did you call me for?” His voice gained a little bit of hostility, the phone audio crackling as he spat those words.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, I fucked up, I… Shouldn’t have- I miss you so much.”

“Wha-“

“Fuck, I’m so lonely. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you. Even though they have your hair color, none of it looks as… hah… dumb as yours, and they don’t have your smile, or your laugh…” His voice broke, and he set his phone down on the table as he was overtaken by sobs. He put his face in his hands, muffling his crying and making the tears streaming down his face gather in his palms.

“Are… Are you drunk?”

“U-Uh… No,” He mumbled, unconvincingly. Kirishima stayed silent, thinking.

“I’m coming over.”

“No, wait, I-“ He tried to protest, but he was cut off by the sound of him hanging up. He was about to hit the call back button but he suddenly became aware of the fact that more than just strong feelings were coming up his throat.

When Kirishima opened the (thankfully unlocked) door, he was greeted with the sound of sobbing and retching coming from the bathroom. His phone was sitting on the table, with a dribble of vomit next to it.

“Baku- Kat- Uhh….?” He cycled through his given name and surname, unsure of how to address him.

“K-Kaa-hatsuki,” He gagged in the middle of the word, leaning back over the toilet. Not much came out, just pure bitter bile. He hadn’t eaten well in weeks, only having enough to not pass out from hunger while he sat listlessly around the house or went to work. He coughed from the feeling of acid in the back of his throat, and the action caused him to dry heave.

That was what Kirishima walked in on, him leaning over the toilet, unable to move from where he was hugging the bowl. He kept retching, but nothing was coming out.

“Jesus Christ Katsuki, how much have you drank?” He asked incredulously, staring in shock at the gaunt figure in front of him.

His skin, which had once been colored, was now a dull grey. He had deep bags under his eyes, and he trembled even when he was sitting still.

“I dunno why you had to come over, I’m fine. Fucking peachy. Calling you was a mistake.” Bakugo sneered at him, but there was no malice behind it. Just sadness and hurt.

“See, this is why we broke up. You wouldn’t accept my help, even when you clearly needed it. Alright, okay, whatever. I’m too nice for this shit, I don’t know why I came over. Maybe I had hoped you changed. Maybe I have that savior complex you mentioned and I hoped you were finally broken enough to be ready for me. I don’t fucking know.” Kirishima was angry, yet his tone was icy cold and mechanical. It was paired with an unfamiliar scowl, and a pair of eyes filled to the brim with rage.

“Fuckin’ shit I did it again- Eijiro, I’m so sorry, it’s just habit. P… Please don’t leave me,” Bakugo whimpered pitifully, arm still wrapped around the toilet bowl.

“I… I need you.” Those words stopped Kirishima in his tracks, whose back was turned to leave the bathroom. His face softened, and he swiveled around to look at him.

“I love you too. You’re kinda a mess right now, when’s the last time you showered?” His voice was full of sympathy, concern, and genuine sweetness, a complete 180 from what it was just a few seconds ago.

“I don’t remember,” He said softly. He hadn’t been keeping track of it, but it’d been five days. His unwashed hair laid flat with grease, having lost its usual poof. At the mention of showers, he suddenly felt all the grime and sweat caked on his skin at once. He sniffled, and his skin crawled at the thought of how dirty he was.

“Here, I’ll take a shower with you. Maybe you’ll feel less gross afterwards.” Kirishima held out his hand, letting Bakugo lean on him to pull himself up. He stumbled right into Kirishima once he was upright, dizzy from intoxication. They both started undressing automatically, Kirishima turning on the water while they settled back into a familiar routine. When it was warm, they both stepped in, the water instantly making Bakugo feel a bit better and washing off the built up dirt. He sidled right up to Kirishima, settling in his arms and relaxing against his chest with a sigh.

“Isn’t this a bit weird, seeing as you kindaaa... chased me out of the apartment screaming a month ago and told me to never come back?” He was genuinely confused, but still wrapped his arms around Bakugo’s torso and squeezed him gently. He hummed in response, and pushed his face up against the side of his neck.

“I missed you. I’m sorry fer bein’ a dick, you didn’t deserve being treated like shit.” He interrupted his apology by pressing a kiss right behind his ear.

“I’ll try to do better, if you’ll have me.” He pushed his body flush to Kirishima’s under the water. He’d never admit it, but that was one of the things he missed most.

“Can you wash my hair? Feels better when you do it.”

taglist:

@friendly-neighborhood-pan @burn-the-witch-now @koifishkiss @plusultrachaos @sillysaladtrash @demumbrigde @worst-bunny @nebula--system

feel free to ask to be added/removed!

#kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #krbk #angst #hurt/comfort #mochirou writes #anon prompt

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 4 years ago

Text

Hi everyone! I know this is random, but I accidentally plotted an entire S7 canon divergent ending, which included Cadogan and Clarke + disciples doing the “test” and Cadogan inadvertently killing all his people through the desire for power (not Bellamy – Clarke traded herself), Clarke returning and everyone thinking she killed them all, lots of healing and forgiveness, a thriving city and finally Bellarke, cozy domestic Bellarke, and then the Anomaly takes Clarke away because everyone has to pass the ‘test’ and she already did, so they’re separated for 3 years while the rest of the people earn their place (takes a while because they all collectively share *one brain cell* and Clarke usually holds it), then Clarke returns when they pass and Bellarke is back to being cozy, but excited to be reunited. Which is why Clarke is a little lighter and Bellamy is, well, more Bellamy. Don’t ask, lol. I had this thought of a beautiful, domestic day between the two of them and I had to write it down. Please forgive me, but I needed to write this fluff and angst.

When he wakes up, his arm reaches across the bed and finds no one there. Bellamy’s first reaction is to panic, sitting straight up in the bed. Except one of the pillows had a dent in it, so someone was there, they just aren’t there anymore. He presses his hand against the sheets of the bed and they’re cold, the person long since left.

Sighing, Bellamy takes off the covers and shivers when his toes hit the farmhouse floor. The world is still relatively dark, the sun peeking over the mountains in the distance. He notices a pot of coffee in the kitchen, making his way to the house.

She’s where he thought he’d find her.

On the porch is a suspended love seat that swings back and forth, a figure covered in a blanket with a cup in their hands. The sun is pouring the world in color and light, and it hits her face in a way that makes her look like magic and fills his chest up with a contentment he never thought he’d have. He never understood visual art the way Clarke did, the colors and lines something he’d never tire of hearing about from her, but he’d never understand.

Then again, he’s looking at Clarke now and maybe he does.

Walking over to her, Bellamy opens the blanket and slides to her side, Clarke not even flinching. Of course she knew he was there, turning her head to smile at him in that way that made his heart flip. Sometimes Bellamy has to remind himself that she’s still her, that it isn’t a dream. He’s often dreamt of Clarke through their various separations, but he never thought he’d have an ending as gentle as this.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Clarke beams at him, resting her head on his shoulder and offering him her drink. He takes a sip of the coffee, the taste bitter and harsh, waking him up a bit. “I fell asleep fine, I’m just not entirely used to how quiet it is here.”

Bellamy frowns at that. “You were on Earth by yourself for three years. Wasn’t it quiet?”

“Well, not in the way you’re thinking.” She offers, Clarke’s honestly for her life more astounding every day. Something happened in that separation that crumbled her walls, and she offered thoughts and stories freely. Bellamy could spend the rest of his life listening to them, and marvels at the idea that he may just get that. “The earth was still healing, so it was very loud. The wind, the earthquakes. I got used to it after a month or so. It’s very strange to come here when it’s so quiet.”

He tries not to be upset listening to it, but it was a fact of life, he supposes. “You’ll get used to this too,” he saying, giving her the cup back and wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

Looking up at him, her eyes shine in the sunlight. “Promise?”

She’s sitting there and the wind is in her hair. The world is drenched in purples and blues and pinks, and everything is quiet. Dipping his head down, he presses her lips against his and thinks I promise, I promise, I promise.

***

“So when was it for you?”

Bellamy startles, shaking his wet curls after they’d showered – together, then apart, then together again. Running a towel through his hair, he peeks out of the bathroom. “What do you mean?”

Clarke’s in the middle of the room in her underwear, pulling her jeans up, the scars from her time alone present and shimmering. He plans on asking her about every single one, hearing every story, learning the lines of her body until he could speak it from memory. She grins at him when she notices him staring at her, lifting her eyebrows. He laughs and shakes his head.

“I mean,” Clarke continues, rummaging around the room until she finds a shirt. “When did you start having feelings for me?”

Bellamy recoils a bit. Not because he doesn’t want to talk about it, but because he’s spent his whole life loving Clarke. Or, at least, it felt that way. Frowning, Bellamy offers, “Attracted to or in love with?”

“Both, sounds fun.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was pretty attracted to you the entire time, to be honest.” He muses, hard to think of the dropship days without reminding himself of everyone they lost. “You yelled at me and I was done.”

Snorting, Clarke walks over to where he is and presses herself against his back and wraps her arms around his chest. “Such a romantic.”

“I can’t help it,” He says pressing a kiss against her forearm. “I realized I started to have actual feelings for you after you said that if I needed forgiveness, you’d give it to me. I didn’t realize… I needed to hear that. And I had no idea it would come from you.”

Clarke rests her face against his back and he can feel her smile. “And when I realized I loved you – when you killed Atom for me.”

Turning around, Bellamy faces her. Placing his hand under her chin, he tilts her head up to him. “First time you bore it, so someone didn’t have to. I was done.”

“Well, that’s annoying.”

Whatever he expected her to say, that wasn’t it. Barking a laugh, he repeats, “Annoying?”

“We could’ve been together for so much longer, had you ever said anying?”

He laughs, free and easy, placing his hands against her face and planting a kiss. “Alright you, what was your time?”

Clarke giggles and pulls herself out of his embrace. “Way later than that.”

“Oh my god—”

She laughs at him and he isn’t sure he could ever tire of hearing it. “I was attracted to you when I asked if you had a gun?”

Bellamy fixes her a look. “Really? That did it?”

“Please, like you weren’t trying to turn everyone with a pulse on.”

He supposes he has to give her that.

“Love,” Clarke’s face falls a bit. “I-I don’t think I precisely knew when I started loving you, but I remember when I realized it.”

Bellamy stills, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“When we reunited after the dropship. I thought you were dead and that I killed you, then suddenly you were there. It felt like I could breathe for the first time, and I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. When I hugged you, I don’t know… everything fell into place.”

She’s sitting on the bed, hair wet, shirt in her hands. Joining her, Bellamy takes her hand and brings it into her lap. “Yeah, I get that.”

Clarke leans into him, squeezing his hand. Pressing a kiss in her hair, she smells of soap and possibilities. “I really get that.”

***

“Platonic love of my life!”

When Clarke shouts, Bellamy startles, still not entirely used to how open she is. She’d been holding his hand and pressing kisses against his arm and he thinks he’s never felt so loved. Bellamy never knew how much he needed physical affection, but it was like Clarke knew and she was willing to drown him in it. It all felt very safe, which scares him more than he can say.

But when she shouts at a figure, he can’t help but roll his eyes.

Clarke jumps and they catch her, swinging her around in a hug. Jackson walks up to Bellamy, pretending to be aghast. “Oh look, my husband found his girlfriend.”

Bellamy snorts. “My girlfriend found her boyfriend.”

Clarke and Miller laugh, the woman kissing him on the cheek and Miller grabbing her arm fondly. The two link arms and Bellamy shakes his head, filling with fondness and family. “Actually, we were going to get some lunch at the bakery, do you want to join?” He asks Jackson.

“Did you say lunch at the bakery?” Miller calls from a few yards away. “Hell yeah!”

Bellamy rolls his eyes as Jackson says with as much love as a person can hold. “Looks like I don’t have a choice.” He snorts. “Yeah man, gotta give the two of them time to make us question our relationships.”

Bellamy isn’t sure when Clarke and Miller became so close, but he knows it directly has to do with him. His time as a disciple sent cracks in all his relationships, none more so than Miller. He came back to the man a stranger. He found him standing next to Clarke, as protective as a person can be, angry and hurt. It took a while to repair their relationship, and again when Clarke was taken from them.

But as they sit in the bakery, sandwiches placed before him, Bellamy can’t help but be grateful for the man, and everything he’s given both of them.

“We were reminiscing about how Bellamy was such a manwhore in the early days.” Clarke offers, picking at her sandwich. Bellamy frowns at that, her appetite quite sad after being alone for such a long time.

Miller barks a laugh, tilting his head back. The two of them are sitting on the same side of the booth, their loves forced to watch from across the table with exasperation and fondness. “Man, you did a U-turn into nerd real quick.”

Clarke picks off a piece of bread and plays with it. “He’s been a nerd the whole time. He was trying to compensate for it.”

“You know, I’m not sure if I’m loving this friendship.” Bellamy says dryly.

“We don’t care.” Is the communal response.

Bellamy shares a look with Jackson.

“Well, you’re one to talk, Clarke. You have your share of annoying history.” Miller offers, taking a drink of water. “When you were gone, you know how many times this one offered to sacrifice herself? I swear to god, I thought I was watching a puppy.”

Bellamy’s surprised. Miller doesn’t often offer up details from that time, but Clarke laughing at him and he’s smiling and something seems to slot back together.

“I don’t know how you did it for so long, man.” Miller says, biting his sandwich. Through bites, he says, “I felt like I was losing it. I needed to know how to stop it.”

“If only I had that power.”

Clarke chuckles at both of them.

“You know,” Jackson says. “I never really knew how you two became close.”

“Yeah,” Miller offers. “I got the impression you didn’t really like me in the beginning.”

“I didn’t.” Clarke says and Miller elbows her. With a loud laugh, she continues, “It was actually because of him.” Clarke states, pointing to Bellamy. “He said if anything ever happened to him, to keep you close. I didn’t know he was planning on running from the Chancellor since he shot him at that time, but he said he trusted you. That was enough for me.”

Bellamy catches Miller’s eye. He still sees the anger and betrayal there, but the love is more. The respect is back, having clawed his way up.

“How did you ever get acquitted of that?” Jackson asks through bites. “No one really knew – we all thought you’d be executed and then it just… didn’t happen.”

Bellamy turns to Clarke. She smiles at him softly, the way she did all those years ago. Nodding at her, Bellamy takes a bite of his own sandwich. She smiles and he feels warm and whole, something he never thought he’d be.

***

They’re standing in a field of flowers and Clarke is laughing.

It sounds like sunlight and she looks like stardrops and everything is beautiful.

“I just can’t believe this is really happening.” He finds himself saying aloud, unable to stop it. “That you’re here, we’re together, and there’s nothing to fight.”

Clarke stops wading through the flowers and turns to him. Marching over to where he is, she places a hand against his cheek. “Together.”

He covers his hand with hers and holds it there, thinking that if there’s a moment he’d like to relive for the rest of his life, he would gladly have today.

***

There’s a single restaurant in Sanctum, started by a few original citizens and Murphy. Bellamy had put on the nicest clothes he owned and sucked in a breath when he saw Clarke step out in a flowing blue dress, a handful of daisies in her hair. The two of them sit in the restaurant and it all feels very simple and normal – two words he never thought would describe the two of them.

Someone pours wine, another person brings food, and the two of them sit, looking out at Sanctum, their new home. When he sees her, he thinks his heart will explode, his skin still burns from her touch, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his life learning her.

“I have a favor to ask.” He says when the room quiets. Reaching out, he grabs her hand. “Did you know?”

Clarke looks at him, confused. “Know what?”

“Did you know the Anomaly was going to take you?”

Clarke frowns. It’s the one thing she really doesn’t like to talk about, but he can’t help but think it is all fragile, their life. “Not really, but,” she says distantly. “I knew something was going to happen. It wasn’t until it was actually happening did all the pieces come together. I knew… that story wasn’t over, I just felt it.”

Bellamy figured as much. He remembers the day she was taken, her resolve. It reminded him a lot of the day before the Death Wave – her resolute ending. “If you ever feel something like that, would you mind letting me know? I don’t think I could bare another three years without you.”

Clarke smiles and his chest fills and the world settles in a peace he longs to fill his lungs. “I have no intention of leaving.” She says.

“Good, because you’re in this with me, Griffin. Until the very end.”

She leans across the table and catches his lips. He doesn’t care people are watching, he doesn’t care about any of it. All he knows is he has her, his world is safe because she is his world.

They will have one normal day after another normal day, until they string together into a lifetime. Maybe that’s the true art, he muses. Not tragedy, not the epic stories. But a tapestry of quiet and safety, until the end of time.

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #domestic fluff #post-season 7 #season 7 #lindsey writes drabbles #nathan miller #eric jackson #sorry #I can't help it #I just needed to get this out

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poisonwonders · 6 years ago

Text

POISON IVY.

pamela lillian isley. twenty six.

biochemist / botanist / toxicologist. MOTHER NATURE.

i am not ruined. i am ruination.

okay so ------- ivy is mostly based on the PAMELA ISLEY we encounter in DC’s prime earth universe, but some influences are also drawn from new earth and DC rebirth. a lot is also just AU / headcanons.

BASICS: ivy is 26, currently working at a lab that works on researching different toxins & poisons. she did not die during the whole thanos ordeal.

obviously no one has to read all this because i got carried away as per usual ! i’ve labeled each section if there is something in particular u want to know ! c:

BACKGROUND.

domestic abuse cw, child abuse cw, parental death cw, murder cw:/

she grew up incredibly sheltered, hidden away from sight. her father locked her away and used threats and fear to force her to stay inside. he also made her believe that if she went outside, into the sun, she would burn. pamela wholeheartedly believed this, because she did have a rare skin condition that made her sensitive to sunlight.

so her mother home schooled her, and tried to protect her the best she could. it was never enough, for either of them.

ivy’s mother emptied her heart of sorrows and poured all her energy into her garden. as a result, it was a beautiful place, filled with carefully tended flowers from all over the world and meticulously trimmed fruit trees and bushes. pamela could see it from her window, and she spent most of her days looking through the blinds and daydreaming about what life outside might be like. she didn’t notice that her mother’s garden grew little by little, every time her father was sorry for yet another unforgivable, unspeakable thing that he had done. but how was pamela to know that her mother’s pain was measured in flowers? that the reason her father showered ( no, drowned ), her mother in the most expensive bouquets, flower arrangements and exotic plants - was to keep her quiet? buy her forgiveness.

every now and then when her father was away for work, her mother would let pamela out into the garden, just as dusk was setting. she’d bask in the day’s last ray of sunshine, taking in the feeling of warmth across her face, stinging her skin ever so lightly. she wouldn’t dare be out there for long. her fear of her father, combined with her fear of her skin igniting, made her careful.

but no matter how careful she and her mother were, disaster eventually struck when ivy was eleven. her father came home from a work trip early ------ and saw his ‘beloved’ daughter outside, flowers in her hair, pale cheeks rosy with laughter. that night, her mother was sent to the ER. she came home the next day, her skin stained black and blue. her mother pretended like nothing had happened, and instead immediately went out to her garden. it had grown, over night. slowly, but certainly, ivy began to see a pattern form. when her mother was trying to hide another bruise, the garden expanded, and a new vase of beautiful flowers stood on the kitchen table. she may have been young, but pamela finally understood that flowers could be used to manipulate, to destroy, to conquer.

but her mother didn’t stop - she refused to let her daughter be cooped up like a beautiful bird in a cage. so she continued to bring a young and frightened pamela outside. she spoke to her in a low voice, about how flowers bound this world together, how they were linked to its very core. she spun tales of girls just like pamela, with flowers in their hair, dancing underneath the starlight, transforming into fairies and witches and elves. she explained that her garden always listened, and if you spoke to flowers, and you kept very very quiet, they’d answer. so pamela was bewitched, and her daydreams of the magical garden continued. she’d sit perched in her bedroom window, her gaze fixed on the roses below, watching them sway in the wind.

daydream turned into yet another nightmare when she was twelve. she saw it all happen, from her window. she saw how her father dragged out a lifeless body, and began to dig up the roses that pamela & her mom loved so much. she saw how careless he was, how flowers were thrown aside, how he barely looked at his wife before tossing her into a hole beneath the garden that she had poured her soul into. now she became part of it.

it took a few weeks of ‘your mother has gone to live with her sister, who is very ill’, before the police came knocking. they took her father away, and a few months later, he was sentenced to a life term in prison.

pamela’s aunt moved into her house and started taking care of pamela instead, and pamela’s life took a drastic change for the better. she was now allowed to go outside, received treatment for her skin condition, and was enrolled in a private school. all of ivy’s free time went to her mother’s garden. on some level, she thought that through her flowers, she’d be able to keep her mother alive.

end of cw.

COLLEGE YEARS / BECOMING POISON IVY.

teacher / student relationship cw, human experiments / testing cw, abuse cw, ptsd cw.

ivy enrolled in college with a double major - chemistry and botany. she excelled in her course and soon became one of her chemistry teachers’ favorite. they embarked on an erratic relationship, their power balance completely skewed, with a naive pamela completely lost in love, thinking she had met the one. she was willing to do anything to maintain that feeling. so when he asked her to steal some seeds from another lab? there was no way that she would say no. and so it continued - he asked her to steal, from museums, from labs, from botanical gardens.

eventually, he found what he was looking for, and her perfect dream turned into yet another nightmare. he locked her up and experimented on her, injected her with every biochemical poison imaginable, a little at a time. seeing how her body reacted, how she slowly became immune to his tests. how almost succumbing to their effect drove her a little bit mad. what he didn’t count on was that pamela’s body would take to more than the poison [ continued in power section ].

after pamela broke free of his prison, she killed him. no remorse. just anger.

she dropped out of college. accidentally killed her new boyfriend with a kiss, and decided to go on the run.

at first, she had some trouble controlling her powers. the first few months, she didn’t dare touch anyone. too afraid that her touch would be toxic, deadly, disastrous. but a new rage had been ignited within her, and it was a rage that would soon become everything she was afraid of.

what was really nice though was that the sun now made her stronger, instead of weakening her!!! cool cool cool

she had been controlled by men many times by now - with disastrous consequences. people wanted to make her feel like she had been ruined, that she was now rotten. pamela refused to be anything other than their ruination in return. she wanted to prove to herself that she was now in control, that she had the power over men.

suffers PTSD after everything she has been through. it sucks

so maybe she went on a murder spree or two, while on the run. what about it?

also became very involved in environmental activist groups!!! often went to protests and was heavily involved with several pro-environment groups and their leaderships.

eventually.... started taking things waaaaaay across the line of what could be considered decent. became involved with underground groups, and turned to crime as the only answer to get the justice that she thought that she, along with mother nature, deserved.

end of cw.

ASYLUM YEARS / ‘MOVING ON’.

was eventually caught while trying to take control of los angeles, by threatening to release lethal fungus into the town’s water supply, and equally as lethal spores into the air. she wanted them to meet her environmental demands. they refused, and she was eventually captured.

after that, she was deemed insane, and was sent to an asylum.

eventually escaped, and returned to her ways of crime.

was caught again, and sent back to serve a year within the asylum’s wall.

decided to be smarter about it, and pretended that she was changed by her stay in the asylum.

she found a job in new york, at a local lab that researched biochemical toxins. it’s rumored that ivy has created poisons capable of wiping out half of the earth’s population. at that, she just laughs.

CURRENTLY / MOTIVATIONS.

ivy has managed to keep her job at the lab. possibly because the boss is a questionable figure, himself. mostly interested in money.

her motivation is to keep plants safe. she can feel every plant around her, and she can hear their pain. she communicates with them, and through them. they willfully do her bidding, and she can take control of any plant close enough to her. she is mother earth’s protector, first and foremost. any harm to her also hurts ivy.

working closely with both underground environmental groups and larger, public groups. her motivations never change. neither does her anger, or her ambition.

she will do ANYTHING to get what she wants.

pretty girls cloud her morals even further, we love a chaotic bi

PERSONALITY / CHARACTER TIDBITS.

murder cw.

that girl that’s always fucking running in high heels

loose morals? yeah

has her own very specific agenda and follows it religiously!

mood swings? yes. sweet like sugar one minute, sour like venom the next.

can be so cold!!!! literally doesn’t care 98% of the time if it isn’t related to plants or someone she loves.

she’s in a bad mood? probably would be best to hide.

might hate humanity, but she loves children. can be so maternal! will always protect kids and take them under her wing.

has a really nice aesthetic! wears a lot of dungarees, wooden shoes, flowery patterns and pastel colors.

uses her sexuality as a weapon.

so so so smart !!!!

kinda unstable, too?

lowkey into the idea of sisterhood. will have girls’ back.

used to be super naive, now she’s more cynical :c

thinks that humanity ain’t shit ( except for her gf, who is The Shit )

lowkey just wants to live on a deserted island with her gfs and her plants but she can’t do that yet because !!!! people !!!!! keep !!!! fucking with her plants. and ivy is also of the belief that someone’s gotta keep this world pure. so that’s what she’s about, really. purity. a peaceful world where plants are safe from harm. by any means necessary.

end of cw.

POWERS.

IMMUNITY:

ivy is completely immune to all toxins + poisons and can also use them as weapons through her skin and lips. the natural oils that her body produce are also laced with biochemical toxins, so her mere touch can be lethal, if she wants it to be. she can also conjure up toxins and manipulate plants into becoming toxic.

also possesses specialized toxins, such as truth serums & love potions.

MENTAL CONTROL OF PLANT LIFE:

ivy can control plants, completely and effortlessly. she can animate them to attack and ensnare her opponents. she can also create new plant hybrids and accelerate a plant’s growth and strength and size. if she has seeds with her, she can also grow new plants quickly.

ivy also has a very special relationship with plants, and treats them as her children and family members. they thus respond to her will and command.

she has also brought back formerly extinct plants to life !!!

she can also feel plants. what they’re feeling. she shares a deep telepathic bond with wildlife, and can communicate with all flowers, trees and other plants.

she can hear through plants! if she focuses, she can eavesdrop on people through plants. super useful, really.

hmmmmm plants also act as her spies, a lot!

DURABILITY & STRENGTH:

all that poison and it just made her stronger!!!! really though, it’s the sun that makes her strong!!!

anyways she’s more agile than the average human and less prone to injury.

#returningintro #✦ ° • ☆ ◣ ▽ ┊IVY • about. )#plot with me !!! ♥#also if u know where that quote is from we are instant bffs thank u

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