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sublimecatgalaxy · 3 years ago

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Fuck To Make Up

Pairing: Fezco (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: Even though they had a child together, the reader and Fez have spent months away from one another. They were amicable when it came to their child and making sure she's healthy, but their friendship dwindled. One night after their baby goes to sleep, the reader and Fez have an eye opening conversation. And a leg spreading one too.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, swearing, angst.

A/n: Catch me naming their child Lily in all of my fics. This is based off of the genius @fezcossidepiece, "someone make a baby daddy fezco fic when y'all aren't together (anymore) but one day he comes to visit y'all baby and once she's asleep y'all confess how much you miss each other, then y'all fuck. hard."

I gotchu guys, leave it to me.

"Okay, babygirl, let's go see your daddy." I whisper, pressing a kiss to Lily's cheek as we make our way across the parking lot. It was Fez's weekend with her, my heart breaking in my chest as I climb the stairs, not wanting to hand her off just yet.

I was dumped yesterday- cheated on- my heart in sharp pieces that I was forced to pick up to maintain my daily life. My boyfriend- ex boyfriend- Mark, was a jerk; a jerk who Fezco never liked so I could only imagine that he would be relieved to hear that Mark was finally out of our daughters life. It was still hard nonetheless. Now I'm alone, no one to talk to or share my feelings with, no one to touch.

Fezco and I decided to call it quits two weeks after Lily was born which was about a year ago. We had been together since high school, close as close can be but then we found out we were pregnant and things just shifted. I knew that he would be a good dad simply based off of how he took care of Ash his whole life. And Ash ended up sort of okay- a bit homicidal and quick to shoot anyone who looks at him the wrong way- but a good kid nonetheless.

He was good throughout the pregnancy, being with me every step of the way but we realized quickly that we couldn't keep up just getting by. It would've taken a toll on Lily and we would've ended up hating each other over time. Now we would speak briefly when picking up or dropping Lily off, but that was it.

Fezco smiles softly at me, his eyes flickering down to the sleeping infant in my arms. She's quiet, her long eyelashes resting against her cheek as she snores, not a care or worry in the world. I must look terrible, my eyes red and dry, my cheeks stained with tears.

"You alright there, ma?" Fez asks, his eyebrows pulling together as he takes Lily from me, a whine leaving my lips at the distance between her and I. She's my best friend, my baby, and when I'm upset, she's the only one I want to be around. I just sniffle simply, taking a deep breath with I shrug.

"Just some personal stuff, I guess. Gonna miss lovebug, here." I reach out, my hand brushing over the top of Lily's head as a soft smile stretches over her lips. Fez just looks at me sadly before turning back to look into the apartment.

"You wanna come in?" He questions simply, my eyes widening at the offer. "C'mon, I haven't seen you this run down in a while." He laughs, my eyes rolling playfully as I nod hesitantly, stepping past him and into the apartment. I haven't been here in a while, but nothing seemed to be different. Still the same old decor and terrible wall paper that their grandma was keen on keeping up. "You want water or somethin'?" I shake my head, sitting down at the kitchen table as Fez watches me, bouncing Lily gently in his arms. He looks down at her fondly and sweetly, pressing his lips to the spot between her brows. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, uh, make yourself comfy." He sends me a simple smile, one that's more out of courtesy, the smile never reaching his eyes. I watch as he walks out of the room, my stomach swirling in anxiety at the thought of being alone with him, without Lily as a buffer, for the first time in a year. I would have to tell him about Mark, knowing that he'd probably be relieved. He didn't like when random people were around Lily in a grocery store let alone a whole other man being in her day to day life.

"You sure you don't need anything?" Fez reappears a moment later, his hand reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his neck. "Not really sure what to do in this type'a situation." He chuckles sheepishly, moving to sit next to me at the kitchen table.

"It's alright." I whisper, my hands fidgeting in my lap as I take a deep, shaky breath in. "Mark cheated on me. I found out yesterday." My cheeks warm in embarrassment as my eyes flicker away from him, waiting for the 'I told you so' speech. But he doesn't say anything, his jaw just grits, his brows pulling together as he sighs.

"You alright- fuck, sorry, 'course you're not." He laughs bashfully, rubbing a hand over the top of his head as I laugh tearily, reaching up to wipe my tears away.

"I just feel like shit." I chuckle, running a hand through my hair as he snorts.

"You look like it too-"

"Shut the fuck up." I reach across the table, slapping his arm as he chuckles, his gaze shy. Our interaction makes me smile, liking the back and forth banter that Fez and I always had. I don't know why breaking up drew this line between us, especially with a daughter, you'd think that we'd still be friends. It was always just too hard. "I don't know, sometimes I just don't wanna bother you with this shit. I know you don't like Mark- fuck, I barely liked Mark..." I trail off as he rolls his eyes at the mans name, visibly cringing. "I just didn't want to be alone all the time." I mutter sadly, biting at the inside of my cheek while my eyes train to a spot on the floor.

"You're not alone. Don't know who told you that but-" He cuts himself off with an incredulous laugh, shrugging his shoulders at me as my brows pull together. He looks at me, realizing that I meant what I said and that I truly feel alone. "You seriously tellin' me that you thought that just because we decided not to be together that we had to, like, hate each other?" He asks, leaning against the table as my eyes flicker down, avoiding his analytical gaze.

"It's just hard to act like we didn't date for almost four years. Like it's weird to be friends and move on with other people and have a kid together." I explain, his face falling as his head shakes simply.

"I haven't moved on." He replies simply, my lips parting in quiet shock. "You kind of just made the decision that we couldn't figure it out. Watched you move on with fucking Mark and hated it. Couldn't fucking stand the guy but couldn't stand to see you wit' anyone else." He admits lowly, his eyes lifting to look at my confused and shocked expression. He just stutters a bit, his cheeks flushing as he adjusts himself in his seat, realizing the weight behind his words. "Sorry, I don't mean to dump that on you- shit." He whispers, dragging his hand over his face as I clear my throat, all worries and concerns of Mark out the window at this new information. Did he really just casually say that he missed me?

"Fez, I-" I start but all words fall short as he stands. I watch him as he walks to my side of the table, bending down to quickly capture my lips in his. I gasp quietly, his hand resting against my cheek as he tilts my chin upwards with his thumb. My legs wobble as I stand, my arms winding around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to me, his free hand moving to grip my hip. His lips are heated against mine, the kiss messy and hot. It's almost as if no time had gone by, his hands knowing exactly what to do and his lips skillful against my own. "Fuck, Fez." I moan, my eyes fluttering shut as he presses sweet kisses against my cheek. "I missed you, god- we're such fucking idiots." I giggle breathlessly, my thighs clenching at the gruff laugh that leaves his swollen lips.

"You're the fucking idiot. I been here, waiting on my ass for you." His forehead rests against mine, a stupid grin on both of our lips. "I don't know how to politely ask for permission to fuck you so-"

"God, please just do it." I sigh, immediately thrown over his shoulder at my words. I giggle as I pound my fists playfully against his back, his hand slapping my ass. I moan at the feeling, watching as the tile turns into carpet, his bedroom door closing behind us. He tosses me onto the bed without another word, his hand pulling his shirt over his head. He stares at me, his eyes raking over every inch of my body.

"You know how long I been waitin' for you to come around? To be inside you again?" He asks, his flirty words dripping in arousal. His pupils are blown, lip tucked in between his teeth as he reaches down to hook his fingers in my sweatpants. “I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now." He admits with a shocked laugh, slipping my pants off of my body, tossing them to the floor behind him. He slips between my thighs, grinding against me in the process. I moan, my head thrown back as he chuckles, his lips dragging against my throat.

"Fez, you can take your time later. I will literally do anything if you just touch me." I plead, the air in my lungs escaping me completely as he stalls, his eyes dangerously mischievous as he smirks. "Yes, I said anything. Right now I just want to feel you inside of me." He nods quickly at my begging, pushing himself out of his pants as I reach down, slipping my hand between my thighs. He watches me with hooded eyes as my fingers dance over my clit, my back arching off the bed.

"Fuck, angel." He moans, batting my hand away as I whine, his thumb quickly replacing mine. "You can't even wait for me to fuck you senseless, can you?" He asks teasingly, my head spinning as he skillfully drags his thumb against me. He knew just what to do, what to do with his fingers, what to say. He's always known me from the inside out and he's proving that he still does.

His hands slip up my shirt as he leans over me, his hands kneading my breasts as my hips jump. My eyes flutter shut as I hear him shuffle out of his boxers, his tip dragging against me as I whine.

"Take a deep breath." He mutters against my lips, my chest rising in a heave. He slowly enters me, his worried eyes watching me as I hiss. "Good girl, spread your legs for me." He whispers, my thighs parting a bit as he nudges himself further inside of me. By the time he bottoms out, there's a thin layer of sweat coating both of our bodies. "Fuck- you're taking me so well." He groans, his hips pulling back to thrust into me. I cling to him as his thrusts grow in momentum, a blissed smile on my face.

"Missed feeling you inside of me." I grin, my nails digging into his shoulder as he smiles proudly.

"Yeah? I bet you thought of me when he was fucking you." His dirty words make me clench around him, knowing exactly what to say to drive me crazy. "I bet you would touch yourself thinkin' bout me fucking you nice and good." He was right, there were many times that I was left unsatisfied, my fingers slipping between my thighs as I pictured him between them.

"Fez-" He captures my lips in a heated kiss, his hand traveling down between us to rub circles against my clit. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you're gonna forget that douchebags name." He grunts, my high quickly approaching as he pounds into me, his whole body moving to lean upwards. His fingers leave my clit, both of his hands pulling me to him by my thighs as he slips in and out of me. The angle is new and very much appreciated, his thumb returning over my wet clit, his eyes looking down at the movement.

"Fuck baby, so hot." He groans, his head dipping a bit as he chases his high, well aware that I was barreling towards the edge too. "Wanna feel you cum around me." He whispers, his lip tucked between his teeth as my breasts bounce, my hands reaching up to knead them, my head thrown back in pleasure.

"Please, Fez- fuck I'm coming!" I cry out, my hips twitching as I fall over the edge, my thighs trembling beside him as his orgasm hits him. He twitches inside of me, the feeling of him filling me up making my head spin with satisfaction. It was a feeling that I missed over the last few months, thankful that he got the balls to tell me he missed me.

He falls on top of me with a laugh, staying inside of me as he softens. I rub his heaving back, my fingers tracing along the freckles that litter his skin. My lips press against his shoulder, my eyelids heavy.

"I love you, I missed you, I want you." He whispers against my cheek, my heart warming at his words.

"You've got me."

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Euphoria Taglist: @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx@ssprayberrythings @username-lols @pessimisticbiitch @urmomsangel @rosepetalsparks@bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e

Fezco Taglist:@fudgemesteveharrington @hy-my-name-is-riley @trinbby13 @squishiejiminiee @marvelsbiatch @chaoticevilbakugo

#euphoria #euphoria series #fezco #fezco x reader #fez #fez x reader #fezco fanfic #ashtray #ashtray x reader #fez angst #fez fluff #fezco euphoria #ashtray euphoria

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Love Potion

Request: What about a Draco imagine where she is dared to put a love potion in his drink by ron hermione and harry. And he ends up drinking it?

A/N: Here’s your request! I hope you like it! I’ve made some slight changes, but I hope you like it regardless. I’ve made the effects of the love potion a lot gentler than what would be experienced; I’ve tried to make it look like Draco has a great love for the reader that he doesn't mind showing, but not in a way that would bring any cause for worry.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: love potion

Word count: 2.7k

She was going to hell; she was sure of it. If she wasn’t going to hell, she was going to be tormented by this for months.

The love potion sits heavy in her pocket as she walks into the Great Hall for breakfast. Spying her friends at the Gryffindor table, she heads towards them.

Hermione spots her first, “Morning, (Y/N). Did you sleep well?”

She frowns at her, “Not particularly.”

Ron finishes the food in his mouth before he asks, “Do you have it then?”

“Yes, but I really hate this idea.”

“It’s a dare, (Y/N). You should have picked truth.” Harry states as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“If I had chosen truth, you would have asked if I had a crush on anyone and I am not ready to release that information yet.”

Harry rolls his eyes, smiling at her, “We all know you have a crush. We just don’t know who on.”

“Exactly, and you won’t ever know. That’s the exact reason why I picked dare. I just didn’t think you would dare me to essentially drug Malfoy.”

“What are you so worried about?” Ron asks, grabbing a piece of buttered toast from the centre of the table.

“You’ve dared me to drug Malfoy. He isn’t exactly the happiest bunny, is he? If he finds out I did this, he’s going to make my life hell. More so than he already does. I can take being called names but who knows what he’ll escalate to after this.” She drops her head into her hands, regretting the day she was ever born.

Hermione casts a worried glance over her, “She’s right. Who knows what the reaction to this will be? It might not be the smartest idea.”

Ron starts to splutter indignantly, “You were up for this last night!”

Hermione nods, “And now I’m saying it’s a bad idea. (Y/N), if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

Ron sighs, “If you don’t do this, you forfeit, and you have to tell us your crush. I can already guarantee you that I’ll be making fun of you. This is a chance for you to get some revenge on him though, for everything he’s called you.”

She sighs, weighing up her choices. Malfoy hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make her life difficult but her friendship with the ‘Golden Trio’ meant that she would be in the firing line of any rudeness sent their way.

“I don’t even know how I’m going to slip him the potion.”

“Drop it in his drink?” Ron suggests, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought of that Ronald! But how do I get close enough to him to put it in his drink?”

Ron is silent for a moment before shrugging, “Now that is the question.”

She groans, letting her head fall back onto the table. Harry begins to laugh but is quickly stopped by a swift kick to the ankle from Hermione.

“That’s it!” She announces, slapping her hands onto the table, “I’m going to do it.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione watch her walk away.

“This has the potential to backfire horribly,” Harry murmurs; Hermione hums in agreement.

She has reached the Slytherin table now; silently thanking every god and deity that Draco is sat somewhat apart from his friends as he eats his breakfast.

“Draco?” She asks, quietly.

“(Y/L/N)? Can I help you?”

“I’m really sorry to do this, but could I borrow your notes from Potions yesterday? I zoned out and I think I missed an important part of the class.”

“Why can’t you ask your friends? I’m sure Granger has her own notes.”

“Please, Draco. We both know that yours are the best in the class.”

He smirks at her answer, but nevertheless, he turns to his bag and starts looking for the notes.

As he’s distracted, she takes her chance. Unscrewing the top to the love potion and pouring it into his pumpkin juice. She whispers an apology as she hides the empty bottle in the pocket of her robes.

Draco turns back to her, the aforementioned notes in his hand. He stands as he hands them to her.

“(Y/L/N)?”

“Draco?”

“Why are your friends watching us like that?”

She turns to the Gryffindor table to see Harry, Ron and Hermione watching her and Draco with wide eyes and open mouths. They’re sat there in disbelief that she actually carried out the dare; the pit of guilt in her stomach grows deeper.

She takes the notes from him, “I’m not sure. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor talking amicably is bound to get some people talking though,” She teases slightly, “Thank you for your notes, Draco. Really.”

He takes a drink of his pumpkin juice before he replies, “It’s fine. Just bring them back to me before our next lesson with Snape.”

She nods as she turns away. The guilt pooling in her stomach as she heads back to the Gryffindor table so she can grab her bag and head to her first lesson.

She was screwed.

----

An arm being wrapped around her shoulders set off the first alarms in her head. Looking up to the owner of said arm, she was only slightly surprised to see Draco.

“Can I help you, Draco?”

“I wanted to walk you to class.”

“We don’t have the same class first period.”

He shrugs, “And? I’m still going to walk you to class.”

It isn’t a long walk to her first class. She spies Harry, Ron and Hermione waiting outside the classroom waiting for her.

She pauses, turning to the boy whose arm is wrapped around her shoulders, “Thank you for walking me to class, Draco. You didn’t have to.”

He looks down at her, smiling softly, “I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Join me for lunch?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“Enjoy your lesson.” Draco murmurs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek before leaving for his class.

She looks towards Hermione in shock; (Y/N)’s hand rising to touch the place where Draco’s lips had been but a moment ago.

Hermione looks just as shocked as she does but understanding soon sweeps over the brunette’s face.

“What? What is it?”

“The love potion you gave Draco has made Draco fall in love with you, (Y/N).”

------

The morning goes by swiftly, and (Y/N) soon finds that the lunch hour is soon upon her. Leaving the classroom, she is surprised to see Draco waiting for her. His presence doesn’t fail to bring attention to the pair; her classmates all have their eyes on her as she walks up to the blonde-haired boy.

“Ready for lunch?” She asks, giving him an out in case the love potion has worn off early.

His arms sneaks around her waist and he pulls her in for a long hug; one that she happily returns. “I missed you,” he whispers.

“You did?” She murmurs into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I missed you a whole lot. Come on, let’s go to lunch.” He says, pulling away from the embrace but keeping a tight hold on her hand.

Truthfully, she was happy to let Draco hold her hand all day long. She had never shied away from her feelings for the Slytherin Prince but kept them to herself because it wasn’t anyone else’s business.

On their entrance to the Great Hall, she felt as if all eyes were on her or rather their entwined hands.

Draco leads her to the Slytherin table, purposely choosing a spot away from his friends. She sits down next to him where he lets go of her hand, but quickly places it on her knee; using his only free hand to put food on his plate.

The feeling of his hand on her knee almost has her confessing to her crimes then and there. She likes it too much.

They eat in relative silence; small bits of conversation is the only silence. Draco asks her about her morning; whether she was enjoying her classes, how her exam revision was going. He did this all the while looking at her as if she was the only girl in the world for him. The intensity of his gaze had her ducking her head, pushing her food around on her plate.

“You make me really happy.” He states.

“I do?”

“Yes, you make me very happy, (Y/N).” That’s all he says as he returns to his lunch.

(Y/N) pushes her plate away, telling Draco she’s full when he looks at her in concern. She doesn’t elaborate that she’s becoming consumed with the guilt from this morning, but also becoming consumed by her feelings for him.

------

It wasn’t real. The effects of the love potion on Draco wasn’t real; his love for her was not real. He would never have feelings for her; the chances of any feelings for her would be most certainly lessened the minute the love potion wears off from him.

As the day continues, she has to remind herself of this too many times to count.

------

It was a long day.

She takes it upon herself to take Draco to the Slytherin common room where the final effects of the love potion can wear off in peace. On the way to the common room, Draco had wrapped an arm around her waist and dropped a kiss to the top of her head as if they were in a relationship and the affection was not the result of the love potion currently running through his system.

She felt her heart start to break at this. Her feelings for Draco has so far gone unnoticed by Harry, Ron and Hermione. As well as by Draco himself. She would not let herself break from this; she would suffer the consequences of the love potion in private – where she could be alone with her guilt and her thoughts.

Entering the Slytherin common room, she and Draco take a seat on the couch in front of the roaring fire. He toes off his shoes, instantly making himself at home. She perches on the edge of the couch; feeling as if she has just infiltrated enemy territory.

“(Y/N)? I need to tell you a secret.”

“I think you’ve done enough of that today, Draco. .”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I don’t understand what you’ve just said, but here it is.”

Draco becomes silent, as if dragging out the suspense for the confession.

“Draco! Just tell me.”

His shoulders start to shake, and she starts to worry thinking he’s started to cry. It doesn’t take her long to realise that Draco is actually laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s my secret. Are you ready?”

She nods, poised for whatever he has to say.

“I faked the effects of the love potion.”

“You knew I put a love potion in your drink!? Why didn’t you say anything?” She shouts, grabbing a cushion to throw at him.

He catches the cushion easily. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. Turns out the whole day.”

“How? I saw you take a drink!”

Draco grins, “Sleight of hand. After I saw you put the potion in my drink, I distracted you long enough to switch the drinks.

Her face falls into her hands, “Oh my god. I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

Draco pulls her hands away from her face, “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t! I am so glad you didn’t drink the potion; I’ve felt awful about it all day. I am so so sorry, Draco. Nobody deserves that! Please forgive me.”

He squeezes her hands, “You’re forgiven. It’s not like I haven’t taken my revenge by embarrassing you all day.”

She pulls her hands away from his, running them through her hair. “You faked the love potion? Why?”

“A number of reasons.”

“And they are?” She prompts.

“Well, for starters, I knew that if it didn’t work, you’d never hear the end of it from your friends.”

She nods; this much was true. They would never let her live it down. “Okay, what about the rest?”

He mumbles something so quietly that she has to strain her ears to catch any part of what he says.

“Draco, I didn’t hear you.”

A blush stains his cheeks and he doesn’t look you in the eye as he says, “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You what?”

“I wanted to spend time with you.” He states.

Her eyes widen as she looks at him incredulously, “Why? Why did want to spend time with me?”

The blush is back in his cheeks as whispers, “I like you.”

If her eyebrows could go any higher then they would be in her hair. Draco doesn’t miss this.

“What? Would it be so bad if I did?”

“Of course not, Draco. I just don’t understand.”

“I know. I’ve been awful to you in the past, and you can’t know how sorry I am. But I do, I like you. I faked the effects of the love potion so I could be near you.”

“Oh, Draco.”

“Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you. Do you want to know why I was dared to put the love potion in your drink?”

“An explanation would be nice.”

“I had to choose in a game of truth or dare. I chose dare because if I chose truth, Harry, Ron and Hermione would pressure me to confess who I have a crush on and I wasn’t ready to say anything.”

Draco is quiet for a minute, letting her words sink in. She lets her gaze shift from Draco’s face to watching the fire currently warming the Slytherin common room.

“Who do you have a crush on?” Draco eventually asks.

She continues to watch the fire; not knowing what to say but also scared to look him in the eyes and confess. Her heartbeat races; her pulse sounds in her ears.

“Who do you have a crush on, (Y/N)?” Draco repeats.

She fiddles with her fingers, whispering, “I don’t know what to say…”

“You almost drugged me today. I think the least you owe me is the name of your crush.”

She opens her mouth; an apology ready on her lips, but when she sees the smile on his face, she realises that he’s trying to make a joke. He’s trying to make light of the situation.

“Draco! I’ve told you how sorry I am.”

“I know. And I’ve accepted your apology.”

She relaxes slightly, smiling at the blonde-haired boy sat next to her. The boy smiles back at her, poking her leg with a socked foot.

“Come on, tell me who you have a crush on. It has to be someone really important for you to choose a dare over a truth.”

She sighs, “I have a crush on you, Draco.”

His smile disappears, “I told you to not pity me.”

“I’m not pitying you, Draco. Not one time through this conversation have I pitied you.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious when I confessed my feelings for you.”

“You really like me?”

A smile breaks out across her face, “I really do.”

“I don’t know if it’s been established but I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“I would only fake the effects of love potion for one person, and that person is you.”

She places a hand on her chest, smiling widely, “I’m honoured, Draco.”

He laughs quietly, grabbing her hand from her chest and bringing it up to his lips.

“I’d rather you kiss me properly, Draco.”

He raises a single eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“It is.”

He shifts on the couch, tugging on the hand he’s still holding to pull her closer to him, to press her against him. His hand reaches up to caress her cheek; his nose brushes against hers. She surges forward and presses her lips to his; Draco is shocked only for a moment before he kisses her back.

When they start to run out of air, they pull away.

“I’m glad you accepted the dare.” Draco whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

She grins, kissing his quickly before whispering back, “So am I.”

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Banjo Riff // Platonic!Reggie Peters

IN WHICH: Luke rejects Reggie’s ideas for country music one too many times leading to the friendship fracturing and putting the bands future in question. Luke, with the help of his girlfriend the reader and his friends scramble to make it up to the bassist.

Warnings: Swearing, hurt!Reggie, Luke being an ass, fighting, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.2k

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my notes for MONTHS now. Song referenced is Lay Here With Me by Maddie & Tae (featuring Dierks Bentley)

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If there was one thing Sunset Curve, then later Julie and the Phantoms would rely on, it was the battle between Luke and Reggie. Since the conception of a band between the friends, Reggie had always wanted to play a country song. He had learned how to play the banjo in preparation, but Luke rejected both the idea and songs as always.

"You said our sound was vintage '80s and '90s rock music Luke. The band evolved into a pop-rock sound-"

"Because our band changed from Sunset Curve to Julie and the Phantoms. I love you, man, but there's no way we're going country." Luke finally snapped with a heated glare on his face. Luke didn't mean to snap so severely, but it happened.

Luke watched as Reggie's face completely dropped into the kicked puppy expression that tore everyone apart. Instead of making light of the conversation, Reggie mutely nodded in response before turning to grab his bass for the band practice. Luke's stomach dropped at the rather odd behaviour, but Luke blamed his response on his current writers' block.

"Let's start with Flying Solo." Luke proclaimed, hoping Reggie's favourite song would cheer him up. Alex's curious gaze bounced between the two other males in the band just as Julie wandered into the garage.

Before Julie could even question the tension, Reggie had started the beat on the pad stationed on the keyboard. The young female immediately jumped into the first rehearsal song with ease. Every attempt Julie was about to question Reggie's uncharacteristic quiet, the bassist started a different song.

"What's his problem?" Julie questioned as Reggie packed up his stuff and practically sprinted out of the studio. He'd rejected the offer of a pizza movie night.

"Luke here decided to be an asshole again." Alex's tone of voice was sugary sweet in comparison to the glare he sent his guitarist.

Luke flinched at the furious expression on his bandmate's face. It wasn't a secret Julie and Reggie gravitated to each other in sibling bond. The two had been friends since infancy through their parents; Julie was there when the Peters started fighting. Reggie was there when Julie's mom passed away.

"Don't kill me!" Luke pleaded, scrambling around the piano from the intimidating Puerto Rican who had a solid punch. Julie's anger faltered at the guilt on the boy's face, "I was frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on him!"

"What did Reggie do to deserve it?" Julie asked from the other side of the piano, acting as a barrier between the teenagers.

"He asked about the band doing a country song," Luke admitted with a grimace. His hazel eyes dimmed once more.

"What is your issue with country music? Your girlfriend is literally a country singer Luke!" Alex cried, stepping in between the two feuding bandmates.

Rock n' Roll Luke Patterson had been dating a well-known country singer for close to two years now. Luke had always been adamant that country wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but if you looked in the false bottom of the console in his car, you'd see a different story. Beneath the Eagles, Nirvana, AC/DC, and Gun N' Roses CDs, you'd find countless CDs of his girlfriend. He even had a playlist with a name that concealed the music in it.

Luke was a secret country fan, but he'd take that to his grave before he let anyone other than you know that.

"I don't have an issue! I don't think our band would benefit from branching into that music genre!" Luke argued with his bare arms crossing over his chest. Both Julie and Alex were about to respond when the studio gained another inhabitant.

"Would anyone like to explain why Reggie stormed into my house holding his songbook? He literally dropped it in my garage and tried to light it on fire?" You asked from the double doors with said book in your hand.

All three out of four members of Julie and the Phantoms recognized the book with a country landscape. The sight caused all their stomachs to drop at the obvious symbol of Reggie's hurt feelings.

"Funny story-"

"Luke Patterson...did you hurt his feelings about his love of country?" You asked through clenched teeth. Your response was Luke wincing at the anger blistering in your tone, "Did you ever think that country music is his comfort music? Fix this, Luke. Reggie, of all people, doesn't deserve your frustration."

You turned on your heel with Julie following in the attempt to find the forlorn bassist, most likely being hard on himself. You checked the beach house Reggie's dad had gotten in the divorce to no success. The school auditorium was empty, and so was the stable where Reggie worked part-time for the horses. You had returned back to Julie's house to sit on the porch to brainstorm.

"Isn't this the week he's with his mom?" Julie questioned with a furrowed brow. You could only shrug as Julie pulled up the calendar she shared with Flynn.

Reggie's parents had somewhat amicably divorced two years ago after attempts of reconciliation through therapy. Reggie had sat down with them to tell them how he felt with them fighting, if you recalled. They decided to do a trial separation for a few months and, in the end, had mutually agreed to divorce.

"I think Mr. Peters is taking care of his mother in a different state. She broke her hip, and now she's being moved into a retirement home." You offered the girl the encapsulated sunshine in just her smile.

"I suppose we'll try the Carter-Peters home." Julie breathed, bouncing on her feet to your car parked in front of her house. Julie's fingers tapped the screen in a chat thread she hadn't touched for months.

Your keen eyes easily read Carrie Wilson's name at the top of the thread that had been dormant since the end of their friendship. Apparently, Julie received little help in the frustrated sigh she released and the increasingly violent tapping of her screen.

"As usual, Carrie is no help," Julie announced with disgust in her voice. She squeezed the hand you placed on her knee before your hand returned to the wheel.

"One day, you'll have to tell me what happened between the two of you."

"Old news. Happened just before you moved back from Nashville." Julie once more avoided talking about the issues.

It was the same response every time you questioned the friendship that had fractured in the few years you'd been in Nashville. Before you left, Carrie and Julie had been attached at the hip, and when you came back, they were at each other's throats. Well, mostly Carrie was because Julie had too big of a heart to stand up to her former friend.

"Well, the beat-up van is still there." Julie caught the van, more of an eyesore, to be honest, sitting in the three-car driveway. The van was shared between Reggie and Flynn as a joint gift from their parents when Reggie's mom moved in with Flynn and her father.

"We both know Reggie-"

"Would walk to work through his problems. The number of times I've found in walking downtown…" Julie trailed with a shake of her half up half down hairstyle she left uncovered by a hat. Another symbol of her finding herself outside the grief that had concealed her.

"Oh, thank god." Flynn moaned from the front porch with her headphones resting on her shoulders instead of her ears, "He's been playing his old bass that makes that odd high pitch squeak noise. I couldn't take it. Get him out!"

You opened and closed your mouth with the inability to find the words, but Flynn knew already, "Doors unlocked. He's in his room."

"Thanks." You informed the fashionable teenager before brushing passed into the house. Not much had changed since Reggie had moved part-time into the house; his parents shared custody.

Flynn was right; the sound of that screech was like a bread trail to the last bedroom in the hallway to the left. The door opened a smidge to reveal Reggie sitting in the dim room with just his bedside lamp on. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Reggie." You breathed from leaning against the door jam, "I'm not sure what Luke said but don't give up on writing. Your songs mean something, Reginald."

"Then why doesn't Luke even read my lyrics? He barely read the title of my last one before tossing it aside!" Reggie whined before taking on a caricature of Luke's voice, "'Home is Where my Horse Is'? Reggie, stop putting your songs in my book!"

You couldn't help the snort at his interpretation of Luke, "That's a...uh...an accurate voice?"

Reggie didn't even crack a smile.

"Okay, maybe don't push Luke's buttons but imagine turning this hurt into songs!"

"Okay. Can I be left alone?"

"Sure." You sighed, turning to leave the room again, "But first. Don't get rid of this Reg. You have good songs."

You left Reggie's songbook on the dresser by his door on your way through the Carter-Peters household. Flynn sighed in relief when Reggie didn't continue using his old bass and even waved as you and Julie pulled away from the curb.

Reggie's eyes had stayed on the songbook you left on his second-hand dresser as if it would get up and bite him. All he could see was Luke rolling his eyes when Reggie had opened the book to show him a new song he'd written. Reggie was tired of only being known for playing bass.

"I brought you some leftover pizza." Reggie wasn't aware he'd been staring at the songbook for hours by then. He was only aware of Luke when he offered a peace offering in the form of Reggie's favourite food.

"I-"

"I'll go grab a soda from the fridge." Luke retreated just as quick as he had entered the bedroom. Seeing Luke was like rubbing salt in the open wound, and once more, Reggie's emotions flared.

Reggie was already at the fire pit in the backyard when Luke had argued with Flynn overtaking one of her sodas. The soda that had dropped on the back porch as Luke saw Reggie's fingers about to drop the songbook in the crackling fire.

"Reggie!" Luke shouted, ignoring the cold spray of soda on his bare arms. The hazel-eyed guitarist shoved Reggie away from the fire.

"What the hell, dude?" Reggie groaned, rolling onto his stomach to push himself to his sit on his knees. His blue eyes seeing Luke stomping the ignited corner of the songbook that had caused them issues.

"What the hell were you doing, Reggie?" Luke demanded with the songbook held tight in his grip. The glare on the messy-haired teenager directly pinned on his best friend, "Why would you try to destroy the book?"

"What's the point of having something our band won't branch into?" Reggie shrugged, moving to sit with his knees pulled to chest, "I've tried to keep the peace but Luke. I'm starting to understand why Bobby left the band."

Luke's heart clenched at the honesty Reggie was revealing, "What do you mean?"

"Screw the blood pact." Reggie grumbled, recalling the oath Alex, Bobby, and he had done to keep the truth from Luke, "Bobby didn't leave because he got an early acceptance into Juilliard."

Luke's eyebrows furrowed together, "What?"

"Luke...you tend to get possessive over the music we make. You brushed off Bobby's opinions, and we all didn't want to hurt your feelings. You've had a shitty time with your parents, but like Bobby, I feel like you don't appreciate our talents."

"What? Dude, you're killer on the bass! Alex's insane on the drums!"

"We know that. Maybe Bobby should have told you the truth on why he was leaving. I don't think you noticed but

"Luke. The songs we perform are all written by you. It was fine, but then when Julie joined, all of a sudden, you were okay with someone else writing with you. But you've never even looked at the songs I've written."

Luke silently listened as Reggie rambled on about how he, along with Bobby, felt underappreciated by the guitarist.

"And now you've been bit by the writers' block bug, but I think the band should take a break. Get our heads back on straight. Before we destroy the band, destroy our friendships." Reggie told his best friend with tears rolling down his face, "Just a week or two."

Luke's mouth hung open as Reggie circled around him to enter the household, but the telltale sound of the lock engaging broke the teenager. But Luke wasn't one to give up, so he created a group chat with Alex, Julie, Flynn and you. A single text that had all of them meeting at the studio.

"He quit the band?" Alex demanded, taking the songbook from Luke's hand, "What the hell?"

"One second he's in his room, and the next he's about to burn that! I may not like-"

"Luke, have you even read a single song he wrote?" You asked your boyfriend with your arms resting down on your knees. The boy in question half-heartedly shrugged with his eyes on his battered shoes.

"How are we gonna fix this?" Julie asked with a frown marring her pretty face usually lit up with sunshine. Her question was left to waft in the forlorn atmosphere in her family's studio.

"Give me that." You demanded towards the band's drummer with determination lit up in your eyes. Alex hesitantly handed over the songbook to your grabby hands.

The other individuals in the room watched as you settled into a chair with a stray acoustic guitar you'd left. Your eyes focused on the notes Reggie had placed around one of the unfinished songs. The soft melody was played a few times before you noticed Alex creating a beat with his drums.

"If I just tweak the song to make this piece the verse instead of a chorus." You mumbled under your breath with a pen scratching the paper. In a different colour, you jotted down the lyrics of a song you'd been working on previously. It was a song you'd struggled with the ending.

Alex huddled around you to add his own notes for the drums, "Definitely a song with a soft backing beat."

"Perfect. I just joined what he has with a song I'd given up a while back. The two songs are the last two pieces of a puzzle." You informed the drummer. Both of you unaware as Julie, Luke, and Flynn watched your brainstorming.

Luke felt out of sorts not being included in writing a song, but he thought it was suitable to not work on it. It gave Luke insight into how Reggie felt not being included in songwriting.

"I have an idea." Luke interjected with a grin, "Reggie's always wanted to see a real ranch. Do you think your uncle would be okay with us staying at the ranch?"

Your eyes flitted up to the mischievous hazel of your boyfriend's scheming gaze, "My uncle adores having people on the ranch. He'd enjoy teaching Reggie the ways of ranch life out of a city."

"How are you gonna get Reggie out to Nashville without it being band business?" Flynn questioned from her position on the couch, "He did just ask for a break from the band."

"Uh...I could pretend to enter a music competition." You offered hesitantly as you'd never actually performed on a stage for the group. You'd kept your personal life separate from your successful career as a country musician.

So you conspired with your friends to make amends with the bassist.

One Month Later, Nashville

The beat-up van pulled into a parking spot in front of a building. The band had seen the building in pictures on your Instagram. Alex, Luke and Julie all shared a look Reggie couldn't catch with his mouth wide open at the city.

"So, where's this competition?" Reggie inquired with his steps in line with Julie. The distance between Reggie and Luke is still noticeable.

True to Reggie's word, the band had come back together after two weeks of a break, but the bassist and guitarist's friendship was still fractured. A particular cloud of awkwardness followed each attempt; Luke tried to branch it together.

"Uh, not here. Y/N invited me to tour the recording studio she uses through her label." Luke offered to the confused bassist. As usual, Reggie barely cast a glance at the guitarist.

"C'mon!" Alex called out from the open doorway with the new addition of you by his side.

Luke was quick to nearly tackle you in a hug and a lingering kiss on your lips. The band all made sounds of feigned disgust. Even Reggie joined in the usual banter within the group.

"Hey, Reggie, do you want to see how us country artists do it?" You quipped with your arm interlocking with his. The cold leather of his jacket raising goosebumps on your arm as you dragged him to the recording booth.

As soon as he was comfortable on one of the spinney chairs by the producer's side, he watched like a hawk. The band had never been in a real professional recording studio owned by a label. It was interesting to everyone, but mostly they all watched Reggie's reactions.

"I was working on this song." You spoke from inside the booth. With a nod, your producer began playing a portion of the song.

"Is...is that-" Reggie was cut off by as Luke interrupted him.

"Your song? Yeah."

Reggie stared at his best friend, "What?"

"You were right, Reggie. I didn't appreciate what you could bring to the band, and I'm so fucking sorry about that. You have excellent songs even if I'm not a fan of country music." Luke genuinely informed his best friend with his hands clasping his, "I want you. Both you and Alex to have a bigger role because we started this band together. We all share responsibility."

"So for now. Alex and I finished one of the songs you had written. I was wondering if you'd like to make it a duet? Release it as a single with a full writing credit."

Reggie absolutely beamed in response to your question. He was in the recording booth beside you in mere seconds.

For the week the band stayed on your uncle's ranch, Reggie was in the studio with you going over the song. It is a song you released as the leading single for your upcoming studio album with Reggie and cemented his career. It wasn't the last time you did a song with Reggie. In fact, he set himself up as a sought after country songwriter.

"Holy shit!" Luke shouted as soon as Reggie told him the success of one of the songs had brought interest to Julie and the Phantoms, "I could kiss you! I'll never doubt your skills!"

Reggie and Luke's fractured friendship healed with the promise of a yearly visit to the ranch in Nashville. Plus, Reggie impressed Luke and Alex with the banjo riff in a country song the band released on their third studio album featured by you. Reggie would always be thankful he had the chance to record ‘Lay Here With Me’ with you.

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.”

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.”

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go.

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse.

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder.

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.”

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia.

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow.

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow.

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed.

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life.

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready.

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family.

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day.

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again.

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head.

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article.

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend.

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him.

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face.

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,”

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake.

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow.

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby.

“JJ, you could have told me.”

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway.

“Night Spencer.”

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room.

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key.

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest.

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills.

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him.

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix.

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in.

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi.

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him.

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?”

“Because it’s part of my suit.”

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high.

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.”

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered.

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject.

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head.

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one.

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend.

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.”

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,”

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.”

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men.

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.”

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them.

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility.

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal.

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance.

That was two weeks ago.

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before.

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU.

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval.

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded.

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.”

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all.

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked.

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau.

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out.

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in.

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells.

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.”

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-”

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead.

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-”

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat.

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch.

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood.

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest.

“We cannot show him these.”

He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.”

“That’s exactly what they are.”

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims.

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong.

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face.

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.”

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?”

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.”

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.”

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?”

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere.

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

“Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role.

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance.

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though.

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did.

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.”

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office.

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest.

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense.

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on.

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave.

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake.

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.”

God, could he read you.

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better.

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.”

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two.

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,”

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof.

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.”

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face.

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head.

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.”

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was.

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in.

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?”

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot.

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.”

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground.

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level.

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.”

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back.

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again.

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded.

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack.

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name.

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?”

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed.

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges.

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.”

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little.

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.”

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile.

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,”

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.”

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home.

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking.

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip.

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house.

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.”

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!”

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!”

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests.

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed.

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times.

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite.

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar.

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him.

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair.

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.”

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top.

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces.

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked.

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.”

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five.

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.”

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom.

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door.

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life.

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?”

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much.

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder.

“So who’s in the lead now?”

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping.

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could.

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.”

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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archadianskies · 4 years ago

Text

croissant aux amandes

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Saturday Day 6: Meet the Family • Reverse AU; Mob AU RK900/Simon

Ronan supposes he should be thankful his mother is keeping this particular meeting just between them. He’d rather be uncomfortable in private than openly humiliated though he thinks there’s a degree of humiliation regardless.

“We could do with a connection to the DPD,” Amanda swipes up on her tablet and the screen fills with a detailed profile. “Gavin Reed, former detective, freshly made Lieutenant as of two months ago. Negligible age gap, questionable morals but gets the job done. He likes cats, which is in your favour.”

“With all due respect, mother,” Ronan makes a face, “I’d rather be disowned.”

“Duly noted,” she nods, swiping a new profile onto the screen. “David Allen is your senior by thirteen years, Captain of SWAT Unit 32 and wields immense influence. His team is loyal to him, and he is known to be a kind, honorable man. He likes dogs which isn’t to your favour, though he is not against cats.”

Ronan studies the profile for a few moments- it wouldn’t be a bad match but it still didn’t feel right. “Perhaps in another life?”

“I will put Captain Allen as a ‘maybe’,” Amanda notes. “If not the DPD, then we could accept Carl Manfred’s offer.” The screen populates with a new profile, lengthier and more detailed. “Markus Manfred is an excellent candidate: no age gap, powerful family, powerful connections. Kind, thoughtful, charitable, and very well educated. Not sure where he stands about cats, but he’d be cordial about it I’m sure.”

“I find the older brother far more tolerable company,” Ronan scoffs, turning away.

“Leo?” Amanda says incredulously. “Leo Manfred has nothing to offer, that son squandered his inheritance and spent half a decade high on red ice, disgracing his family.”

“He’s gotten clean and is redeeming himself. He’d be a far better companion than his pretentious, insufferable -”

“Enough,” his mother commands, and Ronan cuts himself off. “There is of course Elijah Kamski, since he is unmarried and of similar age to his cousin Reed. We already have the Kamski connection through your brother, though.”

He tries again. “Are they the only options?”

“They are the best options we have researched,” Amanda turns the screen off. “There are female candidates as a backup but you said you prefer men so these are the male candidates. The gender is of course irrelevant; your fiance must be the one who brings the most to the table.”

“Mother,” Ronan sighs miserably, and Amanda sits beside him. She rests her hand over his, and knowing she is not an overly physically affectionate person only makes the gesture more meaningful.

“You have submitted no candidates yourself, Ronan, these men are just the ones my team have found,” she reminds him carefully. “I want you to be happy with your choice, whether it be genuine affection, or an amicable arrangement like your brother.”

He knows it could be worse. He knows she could force an arrangement and there would be nothing he could do about it. The Stern family controls this city and it isn’t out of character for his mother to want an advantageous match now he’s turned thirty and declared no intentions to marry yet. It is a kindness, doing all this for him when he has been dragging his feet the past year, knowing this was to come.

“I can postpone the luncheon, if you would like more time,” she says gently, squeezing his hand.

“I’ll have an answer by then, I promise,” Ronan vows, because he does not want to disappoint her and delaying it will only prolong this particular brand of suffering.

Connor finds him under his favourite tree by the pond, and Ronan scoots over to make room on the blanket.

“That bad huh?” His older brother teases, though his smile is apologetic.

“It wasn’t...bad,” he concedes with a wince, “just awkward. And uncomfortable. She suggested Reed at the DPD.”

“Oh, yikes!” Connor laughs and Ronan manages a brief smile. His expression softens as he shifts to wrap an arm around Ronan’s shoulders. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be The One, you know? I don’t- I’m not... inclined romantically or sexually. Chloe is a wonderful friend, and I treasure her company. Our marriage provides her power and influence and security, and safety to nurture her relationship with North under the guise of a bodyguard.”

“You are...happy?” Ronan asks curiously, and Connor smiles.

“I’m very happy,” he nods. “It might not be romantic love, but there’s love in our friendship. You can have that too, brother, if you want.”

It’s a lot to think about. It’s too much to think about, really, and so after too many hours of being stuck in his own head, Ronan escapes to his favourite spot in the whole city: Jericho.

The cafe is somehow in the heart of town but so hidden it feels like stepping into an entirely different world, and he’s been escaping to its bare brick walls and cosy interior for years now. It’s owned by the Lambert twins, Daniel and Simon. Though the older twin is abrasive and curt, the younger is shy and gentle and always has time for Ronan.

“You look like you’ve had quite the day,” Simon laughs, already reaching for a mug and starting to make him coffee. “Take a seat, I saved an almond croissant for you.”

“You’re an angel, thank you,” Ronan takes the corner booth and watches as Simon goes through the familiar, well practiced motions. It’s close to closing and there’s only one other patron, so Simon decides to sit opposite him with his own mug of coffee.

“What’s got you looking like you’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders, hm?” The blond prods, and Ronan delays answering in favour of sipping the perfectly brewed mug of coffee in his hands.

“My mother was being a little...overbearing this morning,” Ronan says hesitantly, leaving out the big details. “With the best of intentions, of course. She means well, but I still feel like I’m being slowly backed into a corner.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, it must be difficult,” Simon frowns empathetically, earnestly, because he is a good and kind friend. Ronan thinks if he weren’t the son of a crime family, he would marry Simon.

They would have a soft, quiet life full of love and be entirely uneventful and Ronan would manage the business side of things for the cafe so Simon would never have to worry. Maybe they could adopt a cat or two. He wouldn’t even mind a dog, honestly. He’s partial to german shepherds.

But that’s never going to happen, and it’s with a sinking feeling Ronan realises once he marries he may have to cut ties with Simon completely as he takes on more and more of their family’s work in the criminal underworld.

“I… am to be married,” he says no louder than a whisper but Simon hears it, Simon’s lovely blue eyes widen at those words. “Well, in the future I mean. My mother is trying to matchmake me with- with certain friends’ sons.”

“In 2038?” Simon asks in disbelief. “Your mother is trying to matchmake you in the year 2038?”

“She means well,” Ronan repeats, sighing tiredly. “She just wants me to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.” He echoes her words with the same regal air and Simon laughs though not unkindly.

“Sounds intense.”

“I have a luncheon next weekend with all of our extended family and friends, and she expects me to announce an answer then.” He picks at the almond croissant, and it’s as perfect as always- buttery, flaky and fresh. The layers are light, the almond slivers paper thin, and the sweetness just right. It feels like a last supper, knowing he probably won’t be able to return. He’d never want to drag Simon into his world of blood.

*~*

Danny arrives in time to help him sweep and mop up. His brother is a warm, comforting presence in his peripheral, and Simon soaks it up like warmth from a blanket.

“Saw one of those supervillain black cars the Sterns use on the way here, was it Ronan again?” Danny asks as they’re putting the mops away. “You know he’s getting engaged next weekend, right?”

“How did you know that?” Simon blinks in surprise as he hangs up his apron.

“Leo told me,” Danny shrugs. “The old man said he’s pushing for Markus to marry him.”

“Oh,” Simon tries not to sound so disappointed, and he’s not even sure what for- that Markus is to be married, or that Ronan is the one marrying him.

“Yeah, I know right? Ugh, gross,” his twin makes a disgusted face. “Poor Ronan, imagine having to marry Mr Perfect and run the criminal underworld.”

“They’re a respectable family!” Simon argues, feeling a twinge of indignant anger on Ronan’s behalf. “The Sterns have transformed the educational landscape of the city- Kara was able to open a kindergarten because of their philanthropy! Imagine having that influence- I’d- I’d completely revamp child services and open shelters and proper mental health centers for abused children and adolescents. I’d make sure no one ever had to go through what we went through.”

“You sweet sweet child,” Danny snorts back a laugh, though it isn’t mocking in the least. “They’re a necessary evil for this city because the senator is an incompetent but dangerous fuckwit. Don’t get me wrong, I like them- they get things done. It’s just the thought of the Manfreds joining that circle that gives me bad indigestion.”

“Markus Manfred is- he’s an amazing man, Danny. Ronan and he would be perfectly matched,” Simon chews his lip, feeling his chest ache. “He certainly would bring the most to the table.”

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just something Ronan said,” Simon flashes an apologetic smile. “He said he has to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.”

“Brings the most to the table ,” Danny repeats, stressing the start and end of the sentence. Simon looks at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think-”

“Oh I do think,” his brother’s grin falters slightly, “But only if you want to, Simon. It’s a pretty crazy idea and uh, we might mysteriously disappear only for our bodies to be found in an underpass somewhere in a couple of weeks.”

It’s a ridiculously crazy idea, Simon knows this for a fact, but it’s so crazy it might just work.

The Stern estate is beautiful, even from the other side of the huge wrought-iron gates.

“You boys must be lost,” a guard drawls, sauntering over to the driver’s side. “Best you head back down the driveway and forget you ever came this way.”

“We're catering for the luncheon you dumbass,” Danny rolls his eyes. “So best you step aside and let us through so we can set up.”

The guard falters, frowning heavily. “There’s no mention of-” he looks at the side of the delivery van, “Jericho Cafe on the guest list.”

“Because we’re not guests,” Simon tries to mimic Danny’s impatient, snappy tone. “We’re catering for the guests.”

“Hey, listen, honest mistake,” Danny shakes his head. “No harm done. Let us in and we’ll do our job and you can do yours.”

“I-I’ll run it by the boss,” the guard fumbles for his phone.

“Ask Ronan,” Simon says firmly. “He’s the one who booked us, not- not the boss.”

The stretch of time as they wait for an answer feels like an eternity, like Simon is awaiting sentencing where the outcome could very well be execution. Is he signing his own hit? Is dragging his twin into this the worst mistake of his life?

“Alright, sorry about that,” the guard apologises, pocketing his phone and waving at someone up ahead. The gates part, and Simon doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more fear. “Go on through, the service entrance is on the right-hand side.”

“Thanks buddy,” Danny salutes lazily before driving through the now opened gates. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Danny-”

“No, shut up, we’re doing this. He ran it by Ronan and Ronan okayed us to come through,” Danny exhales slowly as he brings the van to the service entrance. A couple of confused kitchen staff come out to see them.

“Alright,” Simon swallows thickly. “We’re doing this.”

They unload and designate whole delivery trays laden with baked goods to be carried by the staff. Simon leads the way, trying to will his hands not to shake as he carries the feast he and Danny spent all yesterday prepping for, and all this morning from the crack of dawn baking so it would be as fresh as fresh can be for this very moment.

He enters the dining room and there is Amanda Stern, matriarch of the Stern family. There is Ronan Stern, handsome as can be in a sharp tailored suit, and beside him are a couple- his brother Connor Stern, given the resemblance, and a lovely blonde lady in a periwinkle blue dress.

“Simon-”

“Madam, I have come to ask for your son’s hand in marriage,” Simon commends his voice for not trembling as he sets down the tray on the long dining table. Behind him, Daniel places his tray down and soon the staff follow, more and more until the table is absolutely brimming with food. “This is what I bring to the table.”

Amanda looks at him, expression unreadable and Simon thinks oh, he’s absolutely about to be executed. “You’re the Lambert boy,” she looks him over as if taking him apart atom by atom. “That cafe in Capitol Park.” “Yes ma’am,” Simon nods, clasping his hands behind his back so she won’t see how badly he’s shaking now he isn’t holding anything. She turns her eyes to the spread on the table.

“What is Ronan’s favourite?”

“The almond croissants,” Simon answers immediately, gesturing at them. Amanda nods and he picks one up using a pair of tongs, serving it to her on one of the bread plates. He risks a glance at Ronan who still seems frozen in shock, and it’s as if everyone is waiting with baited breath as Amanda bites into the croissant. Chewing thoughtfully, she sets the plate down and looks over at him.

“I prefer blueberry danishes, but I can see why he likes these,” she’s smiling now, an amused matronly smile. “Is he your chosen fiance, Ronan?”

“If he would have me,” Ronan replies softly, reaching for Simon’s hands. “If a life with me is what he wants.”

“Yes,” Simon smiles, “I do.”

~*~*~

{ Inspired by [this tumblr post] about the intricacies and formalities of the 'Bride Price'.}

#rk900 #simon pl600 #daniel pl600 #detroit: become human #amanda stern #connor rk800 #dbhrarepairsweek #simon900 #annie writes: dbh

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jjungkookislife · 4 years ago

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The Key to My Drawer Ch. 9

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: bf2l, angst, 18+

wc: 2.9k

warnings: cursing, Tae is angry, Tae punches yoongi (once), miscommunication, manipulative (?) yoongi, insecure reader, tae flip-flops with his emotions, ~_~ = flashback

date: July 6, 2020

The pile of letters has dwindled significantly with less than a handful left. You figure you’ll be done reading them all by time Taehyung gets home tomorrow afternoon. It’s late, you’ve spent the entire day reading his letters. You’ll read one more before going to bed. You yawn as you curl up under the blankets, looking at your phone to send Taehyung a goodnight text. He replies immediately, sending you a heart emoji.

Yoongi came by today. He said he wanted to talk before we left for Hoseok’s bachelor party. It’s been a long time since he and I have been in a room together, just us. Don’t worry, I didn’t punch him… hard.

He came to apologize and to say he wouldn’t stand in our way. We’ve been on amicable terms, but I don’t know if we can rebuild the friendship we once had. He said you made it crystal clear that you weren’t interested in him or anyone else... I don’t understand what that pertains to...

He said he knows you’re my girl…

Everyone knows...

I don’t want to have a grudge against him; it wasn’t his fault he fell for you too.

Maybe if I had said something sooner, he wouldn’t have? Or maybe he would have anyway and everything would have been more complicated? I’m not sure and I don’t want to speculate.

I’ll admit, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then it seemed to click. It probably had to do with that night I went to your apartment and let myself in because you weren't answering your phone. It happened a few weeks before our birthdays. You weren’t answering your phone, and I panicked. I know we hadn’t been talking as frequently as we used to, but no matter how mad or upset we were at each other, we never ignored the other. We’ve always been able to communicate… I didn’t know if you and Yoongi were a thing, and honestly, I didn’t want to know as I rushed over.

I hadn’t thought about THE KISS since last year...

I let myself in before going into your bedroom. The sight of you curled up and sobbing broke my heart. I hesitated to go to you. I’ve never hesitated before, but now I did. It killed me to see you hurting and knowing it wasn’t my place to comfort you… not anymore.

I’m an idiot. I know that now, baby. I’m an idiot and a coward and I know I don’t deserve you in the least bit, but I hope you can forgive all my shortcomings. I know I can never, ever make up for the time we’ve lost, but I hope you’ll allow me to love you for the rest of my days.

“Tae?” your voice cracked and so did my heart. You looked so heartbroken… I thought it was because of Yoongi. I approached you cautiously, kneeling in front of you. You tried to wipe your tears, but more just flowed freely.

“I’m here, love… I’m here…”

“Tae…” you threw your arms around me, clinging to me as you wept into my chest. I cried with you, our hearts breaking simultaneously.

I held you in my arms, rocking you until your tears ceased.

“What happened?” I asked softly, not wanting to make you cry again.

“Everything,” you shuddered as you climbed back into your bed, pulling your knees into your chest. A sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, opening them to stare at the ceiling. A few stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

I bit my bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

“What’s wrong with me Tae?” You asked, turning to look at me. Your bottom lip wavered, you were fighting back a sob, but in the end, it escaped. “What’s wrong with me?”

I sat beside you, wrapping my arms around you, but that just made you cry even more. You didn’t want to hear ‘nothing was wrong with you’, and I didn’t know what you meant at the time.

“Yoongi… he said some things,” you mumbled.

“What things?” I was angry. My hand curled into a fist.

“It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t anything but truths…” you stated cryptically. I didn’t understand, I thought Yoongi had broken your heart. I was an idiot, baby. I swear, I am.

“You’ll find somebody who loves you. I promise, love. You’ll have someone who will take care of you and your heart. Who will love you for you. I promise. Someday, you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You deserve that and so much more…” I really put my foot in my mouth, huh?

I’m an idiot.

You weren’t crying over Yoongi, were you? You were crying because of Yoongi… he wanted to talk to you about moving on from me, and you refused. You had hope that I was in love with you and I said all those things… and while I do mean every word… I hope you know that I will love you, and I know I’ve made mistakes and can probably never make up for them. I still hope you find somebody to love because despite loving you, and wanting you to selfishly love me back, I do hope you find somebody to love. After all the pain and heartbreak I’ve put you through, I don’t deserve you and I know that… I know that…

But… the selfish part of me, the one that seems to gnaw at my chest and rip its claws into my flesh, wants you to choose me… to love me. Baby, I don’t deserve to be with you, I’ll be the first to tell you, although from what Yoongi said I know he already said his piece.

I love you… I have loved you and I should have told you a long, long time ago. I hope I’m not too late, baby. I pray with everything in me that I’m not too late, but if I am, baby… if I am, I hope you find somebody…

I don’t want to cry; I don’t because I don’t deserve to. Not after everything I’ve put you through, love. You deserve the world, and while I want to be the one to give it to you, I understand if it’s too late.

I don’t even want to write about this, baby. I don’t, but I don’t know what else to do. You’ve finally fallen asleep and I’ve let you out of my arms so you can try to get comfortable.

I’m so sorry your heart’s been broken. I wish I could fix it, baby. I don’t.. I don’t know what to do. I know it’ll be rough moving on, but I’ll be here for you. As a friend or as a… distraction. Use me, love; use me to heal if it’s what you need. I love you, Y/n. I do… I hate to see you hurting. I hope someday I can take all your pain away...

You shook your head, wiping at the tears that had started to run down your cheeks. You grabbed a tissue and blew your nose.

Everything was just a huge misunderstanding. That night makes sense to you now. So much sense…

~_~

Yoongi had asked to meet with you and you had allowed him into your home. It had been a few months since he had kissed you, and while you didn't reciprocate his feelings, you wanted to salvage the friendship.

Yoongi understood, he knew he didn't stand a chance… not when you had already given your heart away.

“I know I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. I am but Y/n… please. Taehyung’s not going to tell you how he feels. He’s had his entire life to and what are you going to do? Wait for him until you’re 60? 70? Think about it, Y/n. Really think about it. If you’re not going to tell him, and he’s not going to tell you, what are you doing? You’re just saving yourself on the off chance you end up together. I at least said something, and yeah, I knew you weren’t going to give me a chance, but I couldn’t go on in silence.”

“Yoongi, that’s not fair…” you murmured.

“I can move on from you now, Y/n. I won’t pine for you anymore because I know I said what I had to. If anything, I feel sorry for you. It’s your life, your choice… but do you really want to wait for a man who will never tell you how he feels? Or tell him how you feel? We’ve all watched from the sidelines… we’ve all watched this grueling game of cat and mouse. Trust me, Namjoon and Seokjin discouraged me from telling you how I felt but now I’m free… yeah, it sucks getting rejected but I’m free to move on. Are you still going to wait for him?” Yoongi’s words are harsh, and they’re not coming from a place of love despite how he might be trying to sugarcoat them. Your face sours, and Yoongi softens. He may have been too harsh. He sighs, carding a hand through his hair as he heads to the front door, his hand on the doorknob.

He looks at you over his shoulder, his heart sinking to his stomach as he sees tears run down your cheeks, but it’s not his place. It’s never been his place. It will never be his place.

Yoongi opens the door, turning away from you, his voice firm, “I hope you find somebody, Yn. I genuinely do because you deserve to be loved…”

The door slammed shut, and you broke. You ran to your room, curling into a ball, sobbing your heart out. Yoongi was right… Taehyung was never going to tell you how he felt. Why were you still so in love with him? Wasn’t he tired of playing games? Weren’t you?

You ignored his messages, not wanting to see him.

But of course, he showed up anyway. His presence caused more tears. How many more would you shed for him?

When you awoke the next morning, you promised yourself you would move on, but it didn’t take long for you two to fall into your same routine and eventually, you slept with him again on your birthday.

Taehyung was it for you. He’d been it for you for a long time and although sometimes you wondered if he was worth the effort, you knew deep in your heart that he was. You knew you should have said something on your birthday or even on the drive to your parents’ place, but it never seemed like the right time.

Now half the year had come and gone… and Taehyung was away.

~_~

“Tomorrow,” you told yourself. “Tomorrow I’ll tell him. Come what may, I’ve waited long enough.”

You exhale shakily, before grabbing the letter to finish it.

Anyway, I hate thinking of that night. I know it was months ago, but Yoongi coming to my apartment a few days ago just brought all those feelings and anger back. I get it now; I do…

Yoongi came over, and yeah, I punched him, but not right away… I guess I should start from the beginning?

Yoong reached out to me for the first time since the kiss. I didn’t want to ignore him, but I also didn’t want to see him. He said he wanted to talk in person, clear the air before we were forced to spend a weekend together for Hoseok’s bachelor party. I gave in; I told him to come by my place and he did.

I promise this is important…

It was awkward… so awkward. We haven’t really talked since then.

“Well…?” I prodded as he took a seat on the couch, I sat in the recliner with Tannie at my feet. He rubbed the nape of his neck before sighing.

“Have you told Y/n?” He asked.

“What does it matter to you if I have or haven’t? It’s none of your business.” I was immediately defensive, angry.

“So no,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “What’s it going to take, Taehyung? How much longer are you going to keep her in the dark? Do you enjoy toying with her emotions?” Yoongi scowled as he crossed one leg over the other, his dark eyes set in a glare aimed at me.

“No! I love her…”

“Tell her, man. Tell her before she finds someone else… she’s waited long enough…” Yoongi sighed, shaking his head.

“I know..”

“Say something, I’m begging you. I can’t see her going through this any longer. I care about her, I do but she’s never going to tell you she loves you. Do you think I was the only one in love with her? I wasn’t, I was just the one who actually had the courage to say something. You better hope nobody else does, Tae… she’s not going to wait around for you forever…”

“Who else loves her?” I blinked, what was I missing?

“It doesn’t matter, Taehyung. It doesn’t fucking matter, okay? She loves you and only you. Trust me, I know. She’s your girl, Tae.”

“She’s n-”

“Shut up! She’s your girl, Tae. She’s always been your girl. We’ve all known that. She’s always been your girl.”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked.

Yoongi gave me an incredulous look, “you’re fucking kidding me. Mother fucker! Taehyung, your parents have been planning your wedding since you were in high school!”

I stood, pacing back and forth, he was right. But do you love me? The way I love you?

Do the nights we made love mean something to you like they did to me? Or was that just sex? This is so confusing, what do I do?

Yoongi rose from his seat, sighing.

“Look, I don’t expect us to be friends, but please tell her. She deserves that much or let her go. I told her to move on, but she won’t.”

“You told her to what?”

Yoongi pales, biting his lip, “I told her to move on.”

I punched him in the face.

I may have exaggerated, but I did apologize after.

He shook it off, saying he would do the same.

“Tell her. She deserves to find love with you or move on from you. Don’t keep her from finding happiness, Tae. I know you love her, she loves you too. There’s nothing but fear keeping the two of you apart. I shouldn’t be telling you how she feels about you but I also can’t stand to watch her pine after you anymore. I love you both dearly and even if we’re not friends now, I’m still rooting for you…”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m begging you, please tell her… please.” Yoongi wiped at his eyes, before taking his leave. I watched him go, unable to stop him.

He was right.

I should have told you years ago, when I first fell in love. I’ve had several times to do so, several opportunities to tell you I love you… that I’m in love with you, baby. I have been for such a long time. It shouldn’t have taken Yoongi begging me to finally tell you. Yoongi is right. It’s not fair to keep you waiting on me. You need to have the chance to find love because I’ve lost my chance, haven’t I?

I’ve been selfish all these years. I’ve been selfish in keeping you to myself without actually making you mine.

So I'll tell you. I will. I just need a way to do it. I don’t just want to blurt it out in the middle of an episode of Naruto in the living room. You deserve better than that…

You shouldn’t have had to wait so long for me. You deserve better. I know you do, and I’ll be happy for you if you want to find someone better than me because you’re so deserving of it, Y/n. You are. You truly are.

I just want you to be happy, whether it’s with me or someone else. You’ve been put through too much to settle for less, baby.

So wait for me, love.

But only if you want to because...

It’s coming…

I’m coming…

Wait for me, baby…

Just a little longer…

I love you, Yn.

You’re crying again, although you never really stopped. Your eyes are raw, and your throat hurts as you wipe at your nose before reading the letter once again.

Taehyung’s going to tell you…

He’s finally ready to tell you, and you’re ready to tell him…

All the heartache, all the pain… it’s coming to an end!

You laugh through the tears, grinning madly. Taehyung loves you! He’s in love with you and every letter proves it and although you’ve both put each other through the wringer time and time again, you’re ready to accept his love and give him yours. Yes, it may seem foolish of you to forgive him for not telling you, but you never said anything either. None of that matters right now. You’ll be able to talk it all out, but you just need to tell him.

You eye your phone, shaking your head. You can’t do it over text, it's too important for that. You’ll have to wait until he comes home tomorrow… just a few more hours. You’ve been waiting since high school, you can make it through a few more hours.

You curl up in his blankets, inhaling his scent.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow… your life would change completely.

<< previous // next >>

#the key to my drawer taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader insert #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #best friend!taehyung #best friend!au #taehyung non idol au #bts fanfic #taehyung x yn

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chrisevansluv · 3 years ago

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That is also the way it is in America. People just don’t like Jenny so they like to pretend they have confirmation her marriage was perfect and strong and that there was a scandal that paints her, specifically, in a bad and devious light. And also all anons are perfect angels who can cast any stone they want with no proof. Divorces can take months or years to be finalized here so people definitely date in the time from when they file for divorce or even just agree to separate until it’s finalized. She still works with her husband on projects and has referred to her divorce as amicable so even though there might have been hurt at the end of it, which is natural affair or not- a marriage ended, her ex husband seems to be totally ok with her. She can call him her husband but also be separated from him or have experienced a shift from romantic towards friendship that they were dealing with privately. To be fair, they filed for divorce in May 2016 but it does seem that even if there wasn’t anything physical between her and Chris prior to that, as the timeline Jenny and Chris have provided would suggest, there was definitely something, I dunno, emotional between them going on. Chris was very obviously interested in her on that podcast and I definitely sense that they had laid a lot of emotional connection ground work by that time. Adult relationships are not always so cut and dry as anons seem to think they are.

That's why I said there's the optipn they appeared still together to the public, but could've been separated in private. We don't know what happened (nor that it's our business/or I care). It's something that happened 3 years ago, that's dead and somethimg they both moved on from.

Again, we can have an opinion (based on what story you decide to believe), but we can't take anything as a fact because we weren't involved in the relationship nor knew personally Chris and Jenny

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ritchieblackless · 4 years ago

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Blackmore and Powell's friendship pt III {The last lap}

Well, first of all, thanks to everyone for supporting this mini series (just three post omg) of Cozy and Ritchie's friendship. They were so cute and I think they didn't realize how goals they were....

Also, this part will be more long than the others because it's the last one and because there's a lot to cover in this last lap.

Making 'Down To Earth'

Making that album was important for those two because they were in their own. The band, in a certain way, was no longer Ritchie's band.. Although Ritchie will never admit it, without Cozy's help Down To Earth and his successful career after Cozy left, would have been a little more difficult. Without mentioning that Cozy discovered Joe Lynn Turner.

As Cozy quoted in his 1982 interview.

"He [Ritchie] seems to have more success with Rainbow since I left. I'm really glad for him. -Cozy (Kerrang! 1982)

But returning to the point... As the two dorks were men in charge, due to pulling the new Rainbow out, they had to be closer to each other more than they used to and spending more time together under a lot of stress. Perhaps that was the reason why their friendship quickly wore off.

Anyway... time for quotes! I'll put first the 'Making Down To Earth' quotes and then the 'Woring off friendship' quotes.

"After a while we were going crazy, we couldn't find anybody at all. Then Roger Glover said, 'Well, what about me?' Ritchie asked me what I thought as I'd have to work with the guy and I said, 'Fair enough, I'll give it. try, once I start playing I can never hear anybody else anyway.' So Roger became the bass player." -Cozy. (1979)

(Ritchie knew Roger for years and still he asked to Cozy what he thought about Rog...it shows you that Cozy's opinion was important to Ritchie)

"All the members we've got are very competent at what they do. Don's been playing keyboards for years, Roger's an accomplished bass player, Graham's a great singer... all I've got to do is teach Ritchie a few new chords and we'll be alright." -Cozy (Sounds 1979)

(A little of English humor for y'all. I'll skip the quote where Ritchie says that he would loved having that laugh with Cozy because you already know that one. Where Ritchie tacitly said that he miss Cozy)

Now, the quotes about their, as Cozy called it, battle of wits.

"Cozy and I, we're always trying to outsmart each other. He's a very fast person, him with his cars. Me, with my medieval music, he hasn't got a clue where I'm coming from. So we have our differences, but when we're on stage we click because he wants to be the best drummer and I want to be the best guitarist." -Ritchie (Melody Maker or Sounds 1979)

The next two quotes are from the same paragraph but I divided them because... yes.

"Ritchie and I have argued about their [Graham, Don and Roger] inclusion, well, we have a lot of arguments anyway as you can well imagine. When we don't agree over certain things, he usually wins because it's his band, he started it all in the first place, so I'm not going to knock that. But I will make my opinions heard." -Cozy (Pelo 1979)

Cozy was very strong-willed, also a little stubborn but he'll never lose the respect for Ritchie and his baby as you can well read.

"I'll say what I think to Ritchie and he respects me for it. I think the only reason that I'm still a member of Rainbow is that Ritchie knows that I'll beat him up if he fires me. So we have differences of opinion - in fact it nearly came to fisticuffs at one point in Geneva - but at the end of the day it's usually OK, we have a few drinks and make it up. But it's good all the same, it's healthy. We're men enough to know that united we stand, divided we don't necessarily fall but it's not going to be so easy. So if we stick together we could end up conquering the world. Which'd be nice, wouldn't it?" -Cozy (Pelo 1979)

Awwwww, Cozy... you two already did. He softie.

"We disagree about a lot of things, although we tend to agree upon the end result. I do feel uncomfortable with him in some situations, but we do treat each other with a great deal of respect." -Ritchie (Sounds 1979)

You... you toxic dorks. I'd love to know what that 'Uncomfortable' means.

"I've had thoughts about leaving Rainbow every other month. It's easier to quit, but harder to keep going - and I don't believe in giving up. Ritchie must have been thinking 'I wonder how much longer he's going to take this?' while I was thinking 'how much more can he put up with me?' - it was a battle of wits. This is reflected in the way we play, very aggressive; but in the end we've got great respect for each other." -Cozy (Sounds or Melody Maker 1980) (they in the two interviews say the same so sometimes i get confused but trust me hasha)

I think they were just tired of each other but not tired of being friends but being band mates and driving force.

BUT, although their fights and arguments and all. Ritchie still cared about Cozy. (I'll put a sweet quote just for change the bad taste in mouth of the other quotes)

"I'm speaking for myself and that night I was very sensitive, as in fact I always am, but on that night I felt I could not come across to the audience and I was disgusted with what I was doing. So I came off and I said to Cozy: "Shall we do an encore?" He was very mentally brought down, he'd just done his solo, and so I decided not to do an encore. The whole thing about doing an encore is that it should come from your inner self." -Ritchie. (Sounds 1979)

Is not the first time though. He, in Rainbow, usually wanted to do an encore but then he'd see Cozy, as he said, mentally brought down and as much as Ritchie wanted, he'd not do an encore... just for Cozy.

'After-Rainbow' relationship.

As I showed you in the first part, they ended in very good terms and still being friends and they were still good friends until, of course, Cozy's death.

"Ritchie and I are still really good friends. He came to see us [MSG] while ago. I left the band very amicably way and there's no hard feelings. I just think five years was quite long enough. We'd both seen enough of each other. It's a long time to work with any relationship, especially in an artistic way, it was better to part as friends rather than as enemies." -Cozy. (1982) (it was a cut off article I found in pinterest long ago so i don't know the very source)

Cozy was still supporting Rainbow after he left and he liked "I surrender" and all. And he discovered Joe Lynn so when Graham left... Cozy told Ritchie about Joe.

And for the last quote... I will leave this funny but sad but nice (????? ... you will understand what i mean)

"Last time we saw Cozy was in Denmark. He was doing an interview beneath my window in the garden of the hotel. I couldn't resist but to throw water out of the window and onto him. We always played practical jokes on each other. Cozy went too soon, but that's the way he'd have wanted to go, in his car. -Ritchie (Blackmore's Night Q&A online)

"We always played practical jokes on each other". Ritchie you're such a liar and you're talking advantage of Cozy's death because if he were still alive he would tell you that you were afraid of his practical jokes.

But he is deep about Cozy's cause of death, and he's right about it so that, again, shows you that Ritchie knew him very well.

So we reached the end, a fair-sad but happy ending for their friendship. Is sad because Cozy's death but is happy because they were still the goal friends that they always were. And i have no doubts that he still misses him, because Carry On Jon is very similar to The Loner and i don't think it's a coincidence.

Anyway, Long Live Rock 'N' Roll and I want their friendship.

#sorry i didn't know how to end the post hshshs #cozy powell #ritchie blackmore #rainbow band #two dorks #long post #now if you excuse me I'll go to the bathroom to cry #i don't have words #just... two adorable dorks #rainbow #ritchie blackmore's rainbow #graham bonnet #don airey #roger glover

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siren-queen-imagines · 5 years ago

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Jealous

This one was requested by the lovely @daughter-of-pan12:

“Hey I was wondering if you could do a request I have about Scott from teenwolf I was wondering if the story could be based off of halseys music video colors but Scott and the reader end up together in the end.”

So my darling, I changed things up a bit from the video but I still hope you enjoyed it!!

Masterlist Want Me to Ship You?

“Since when do you play tennis?” You asked Scott with amusement, smile on your face as he walked over to you from the tennis court.

“I don’t. Trying something new because Coach asked me to.” Scott shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the bleachers.

“Asked or demanded?”

“A little bit of both?”

The two of you shared a laugh.

“Well, plus side is, I may or may not have blackmail material. It depends.”

You showed him the photos you took of him playing on your camera. You were on the yearbook committee so you taking pictures wasn’t completely out of the norm.

“Depends on what?”

“If you like tennis...and how you feel about the shorts.”

Scott chuckled and looked down at his legs. If you didn’t know how he felt about them, you couldn’t use them against him. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t mind you teasing him. It’s something that hasn’t been brought up yet but Scott liked you...a lot. He didn’t know if you felt the same. I mean, even when he’s oblivious to it, sometimes he swears you’re flirting with him...so he’ll flirt back.

There were a few instances where you both caught the other staring at each other in class. Stiles had talked to him over and over about just asking you out. He was able to ask Allison and Kira...why was it so different with you? Maybe because with Allison and Kira, they were more romantic in the beginning while he’d been friends with you first. Would asking you out ruin that friendship if it doesn’t work out?

No. Not with you. You were too amazing to let a relationship ruin your friendship...assuming it ended amicably and neither of you didn’t do anything to mess it up. But he’d have to actually ask you out before this could even be an idea.

“Shorts aren’t that bad. I could go a little looser.”

You smiled and shook your head, a small laugh leaving you.

“Then these pictures aren’t what I hoped. Unless--”

“Not in the yearbook. I’m not on the tennis team.”

“Damn that’s true.”

Scott looked up to see Stiles stop walking. He then pulled out his phone and Scott’s phone chimed.

“Why is Stiles standing there staring at us?” You asked, slightly perplexed.

“I don’t know.” Scott replied, pulling out his phone.

But he knew. He knew that Stiles wanted to give you guys some time alone.

Did you ask her yet?

Scott sighed and looked up at Stiles who held up his arms as if to say, “huh?”. Scott quickly typed his reply and sent it.

“Hey, so are you going--” Scott started before his phone chimed again, interrupting him.

ASK HER!

Scott turned his phone on silent and put it back in his pocket.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Judging by your reaction it’s not important pack business.”

“No, it’s just Stiles being Stiles.”

“Is it explaining why he’s still staring at us instead of coming over?”

“No. It’s a long story.”

“Anyway, you were asking me something?”

“Oh yeah, um, are you going to the carnival this weekend?”

“Yeah. Me and a couple of us were told to go take pictures for yearbook.” You replied, slightly unenthusiastically.

“You don’t sound excited about that.” Scott let out a small chuckle.

“I’m kinda not because that means I’m going for fun reasons.”

“Well, do you wanna go with me? You can get some pictures and we can have fun...like a date.”

You froze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise. Scott McCall is asking you out on a date? HOLY CRAP! You’ve liked him for the longest time, like since the end of elementary school, and he wants to take you out…

“Or we can go as friends, it doesn’t have to be a date.” Scott backtracked after your pause in response.

“No, no that’s not it.” You replied quickly after he backtracked. “It’s just--are you sure you’re asking the right person on a date?”

“Unless you’re not the real Y/N Y/L/N, I’m sure I have the right person.” He smiled at you brightly.

“R-really?”

“Yeah. Of course. I mean, if you want.”

“I--” You smiled, letting out a small laugh because you still couldn’t believe it. “I would like that.”

“And maybe we can invite Liam and Hayden. Double date for less stress and we’d be able to get some pictures for the yearbook.”

“That’d be great.”

“Awesome.”

The two of you shared bright smiles.

“MCCALL!” Coach called from behind them.

The mood was ruined, Coach’s voice startling the both of you as he called out to Scott from the tennis courts.

“Last I checked, Y/L/N isn’t a tennis ball or racket!” Coach Finstock continued as he walked over to the bleachers. “You flirt on your own time, two laps each!”

“Wha--me too?” You motioned to yourself in shock.

“You too, Y/L/N, get going!”

“I’m not even in--” You were interrupted by Coach’s whistle.

“That’s another for the both of you!”

You looked over to Scott in surprise before you both started laughing. What the hell?

=================================

Beacon Hills High School was throwing a fundraiser to raise money for the sports teams. The fundraiser was done in the form of the carnival.

“What should we do first?” Liam asked the group of you.

“Actually, we’ll meet up with you guys a little later. Y/N’s gotta take pictures for the yearbook so I wanna get that out of the way for her.” Scott replied, small smile on his face as he looked over to you.

“Yeah. We’ll see you guys in an hour?” Hayden agreed.

“Sounds like a plan.” You confirmed. You turned to Scott as Liam and Hayden walked away. “You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve gone with them while I walked around and took some pictures.”

“We’re on a date. For me, this is part of it and it’s not like we can’t have fun getting your pictures.”

Scott smiled and took your camera bag from off your shoulder. He opened it up and passed you the camera and one of the lenses he recognized from the previous day. You couldn’t help but smile as you attached the lens and put the strap around your neck. Scott had already zipped up the bag and put it on his shoulder before offering you his hand.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You replied.

The two of you walked around for the hour, taking pictures of some of the students as they played some games, ate some of the fried foods and the rides.

Your last stop of the photo tour, per Scott’s suggestion, was the ferris wheel and a photo from the top overlooking the carnival.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Scott.” You told him as the ferris wheel moved.

“No problem. It was fun.” Scott insisted with a light nudge of his shoulder. “We should definitely eat after we find Liam and Hayden.”

“Oh, that’s a given. I mean, we shared cotton candy but we need solid food.”

“I was thinking by the end of the night we try that deep fried twinkie you were talking about when we passed it.”

“I’m telling you...it’s really good. Hey, so I know we have spent the first hour of our date getting my work done before we go on a ‘date’ date, but I’m having a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad. Maybe we didn’t need the Liam/Hayden filter after all.”

“I think it helps that we were friends first. It helped us to be comfortable, I think.”

“Maybe.”

Scott put his arm around your shoulders before he pointed to the sunset as the two of you got to the top of the ferris wheel.

“It’s beautiful.”

“So are you.” Scott made a face and smiled. “That was so corny but it’s true.”

You laughed and shook your head. It felt like the right moment for this. It seemed Scott knew it too because he leaned in, meeting you halfway, for a kiss.

=================================

You and Scott have been together for the past month and so far, everything was awesome. Scott was an amazing friend but was also an amazing boyfriend. The transition from friendship to relationship was shockingly easy.

“So I was thinking maybe we can hang out at your house tonight. My parents are gonna be home and to be honest, I don’t wanna deal with the questions.” You suggested, closing your locker.

“Have you told them about us?” Scott asked curiously.

“Yeah. I just don’t want to divulge into our relationship with them just yet and then my dad tries the whole, “I have a shotgun,” thing.”

“Does your dad really have a shotgun?”

“He says he does but I haven’t seen it.”

“Okay. We’ll have to stop by the store after school so we can get some snacks. I promised my mom I’d buy some milk anyway.”

“Sounds good. Oh, real quick, you mind holding my camera? I have to pee real quick.”

“Yeah sure.”

Scott accepted your camera, putting the strap around his neck as you rounded the corner to the bathroom. While he waited, he turned on your camera to look through the photos on them. He smiled when he saw the ones of the two of you saved on the memory card. He scrolled to see you and him and your friends...but then...what the hell was Theo doing on your memory card in between pictures of you guys?

Why were there more than one of Theo? What the holy hell? Why were these saved in with pictures of you guys? Were you into Theo and just settling for him?

“Thanks.” You told Scott as you walked over to him.

You suddenly felt the change of Scott’s mood. Before you could ask him what was wrong, Scott pulled the strap over his head before showing you the picture on the screen.

“Why do you have pictures of Theo saved on here?” Scott asked, irritability in his tone.

“Do I? I thought I deleted those.” You replied with a shrug.

“How do you not remember? You have pictures we took last week and a couple more weeks ago saved in between these pictures.” Scott pushed the camera into your hands. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“Why are you getting so mad, it was a simple mistake?” Your tone changed to match his.

“Is it? Because you did have a crush on him before.”

“A lot has happened since then, Scott.”

“Well, it looks to me that maybe you still have something for Theo and you’re just settling with me.”

“How could you say that? I--”

“If you wanna be with Theo then go.” Scott shook his head and stormed off.

“Scott!” You called out but he didn’t even turn around.

What the hell just happened? You have never seen him get so jealous like that let alone jump to conclusions like that. The reason you had those photos were innocent. You sighed to yourself, fighting the tears and turned around to walk the other way to class.

=================================

“I think you read too much into it.” Stiles told Scott.

“I don’t know, man.” Scott sighed. “She used to like Theo.”

“And a lot happened since she liked him. He turned out to be a dick in so many ways and knowing Y/N, that crush died when he manipulated her too in his crappy plan.”

“But then Liam brought him back...she even mentioned that she thinks he deserved a second chance after what he’d been through where he was.”

“Doesn’t mean she likes him again. Look, she may have liked Theo but she’s liked you longer than him.”

“What?” Scott looked up to Stiles in surprise.

“Dude, I’ve been telling you for the longest time but you didn’t believe me. Maybe since she decided boys didn’t have cooties anymore, she’s liked you. She wouldn’t “settle” for you like you think she is. You know Y/N, Scott. She would never do that to you.”

“Then why wouldn’t she delete the pictures of Theo in her camera?”

“Maybe she has a good explanation for that. You’re being ridiculous and a dumb, jealous boyfriend. She hasn’t given you a reason to be.”

Scott knew that Stiles was right. You never gave him a reason to be jealous and he didn’t know why he was being like this. He could blame whatever but at the end of the day, there was no excuse for how he acted. He owed you the biggest apology.

“I gotta go. I need to talk to Y/N.” Scott said to his best friend.

“Yes, go. Let me know how it goes.” Stiles urged.

Scott texted you before he got onto his bike and drove to your house. You were waiting on the porch, sitting on the steps as he pulled up.

“Hey.” He called out as he took off his helmet.

“Hey.” You replied with small shrug, a tinge of sadness in your tone.

“I owe you an apology.” Scott told you as he sat down next to you. “I was being a jealous jerk for no reason.”

“You were.” You agreed with him.

“I should’ve let you explain.”

“You should’ve.”

“I let some insecurities I haven’t felt in a while get the best of me. I thought the worst because I remembered that you used to like Theo and then my mind went to how you might think he was better looking than me and I just fell down that rabbit hole.”

“Scott, the whole thing with Theo? That was over for a while. I could never be with someone who pretty much broke us all apart and pretty much killed you.”

“I know. I’m really sorry.”

“You know the only reason I have those pictures on there were for yearbook? I thought I deleted the files when I uploaded them to the computer at school so I never bothered to check.. And there were so many because he didn’t like how they turned out and I had no choice but to humor him.”

Scott felt stupid. Of course it was for that reason. He really should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.

“I forgive you though.” You added.

“You do?” Scott’s voice was hopeful.

“Of course. I get insecure too and well…” You pointed up to the sky.

It was a full moon….how did he not realize that? Maybe because he was so caught up with everything going on with his relationship.

You let out the breath you had been holding when Scott shook his head with the look of realization on it.

“I was gonna talk to you tomorrow but you texted me to talk now.”

“It’s no excuse though. But I’m still so sorry.”

“I forgive you. Promise me something though?”

“Anything.”

“Even on a full moon, at least try to fight your instincts to walk away so I can explain myself?”

“I’ll try my best.”

You leaned in and kissed him. Apology accepted.

#teen wolf imagine #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall

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clankitsfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Thought: Indescribable Feeling (Disco Elysium Harry x Kim Oneshot)

Summary: PROBLEM: You've been friends with Kim for a while now. You feel like you know him well, or at least better than most of the people he interacts with. You can recognize the curve of his slight smile, the sparkle in his eye when he’s teasing you, and, of course, you’ve felt the authority his eyebrow holds. You know about his childhood wish to be a pilot, his secret love of science fiction, and just how big of a torque dork he is. You’re privy to the facts he keeps hidden, like how he struggles with showing emotions, how he still feels lonely despite the fact he enjoys isolation, his desire to do good in the world. Still, there's something about him that unsettles you— is it in his glasses, the lilt of his mouth, his knowledgeable eyes? And unsettles isn't really the right word, is it—but what is? What is this feeling when you look at Kim? Maybe if you think about it long enough, you can figure it out.

***

“Kim, how did you know you were... y’know?”He just raises an eyebrow. Of course, for all the times for his deductive reasoning to fail him, it had to be now, when you were asking him about his… sexuality. God, you can barely think the word in your head—how the hell are you supposed to say it out loud?

(read this on Archive of Our Own here or below the cut)

You're sitting in your shitty apartment, at your shitty table, in your shitty chair. The place is a lot cleaner than when you first saw it a month ago. When Kim broke into it with you—meaning when Kim called a locksmith and paid her for you—the place was covered in so much trash you could barely see the stained carpet floor. Half-drunk bottles of alcohol were littered around the place like you’d had a party the night before, different drugs and pills dotting your living room like fairy lights. Honestly, you’re surprised your past self would leave alcohol just lying around like this. You haven’t had a drop since you first woke up in the Whirling Rags, but your hands started itching and your brain started whispering when it noticed how easy it’d be to stuff some pills in your pocket or wrap your lips around the mouth of a bottle. Kim was kind enough to take care of all the narcotics for you, so you dealt with the more regular kinds of trash.

It was a two-day effort, all-in-all, with the first day focusing on just untrashing your place and the second on actually making it clean, scrubbing the floors and such. Kim helped you with all of it—you weren’t cleared back for work yet, and he’d taken a few days off after The Hanged Man. You felt guilty for having him spend some of his precious time off just cleaning you up, but were too much of a sack of shit to tell him he didn’t need to help. You’re pretty sure you did need his help, anyways—you definitely wouldn’t have been emotionally prepared to confront this relic of the past on your own.

You have a plastic tare in your hands, and your fingers are peeling away at the wrapper surrounding it advertising whatever brand. Damn Capitalists. The little sticky pieces cling to your hands in a pale imitation of what they once were, whole, together. They’re searching desperately for something to hold on to. You’re vaguely reminded of how your past refuses to leave you, despite the fact your amnesia appears to be here to stay. You shake your hand, but the scraps stay on. Awkwardly, you try to pick them off with your left hand, hoping they won’t stick to it. You’re stalling. You're nervous. Of course you are. How could you not be, with what you’ve been thinking about lately?

Kim is sitting across from you, silent, as usual. He’s watching you fail to rid yourself of the stupid plastic remnants with a mildly amused look in his eyes. His own water is near untouched. He’d probably be drinking wine if he was with anyone else. You’re stuck between feeling guilty at denying him one of his few indulgences and feeling so damn grateful that you want to hug him. You two have been making rather pleasant conversations most of the night. You’ve discussed lots of things, like your current cases, his cases, how long it might take for Lena to mail a reply, whether or not Kim will be able to talk his way into transferring the Coupris Kineema to Precinct 41 anytime soon. The current lull in talk is comfortable, natural—a thing of friendship. Kim knows you, knows how you work, how you speak, how you breathe. He knows you have something on your mind, and he'll wait until you're ready to say it. Until then, he’ll sit there, patiently waiting. God, Kim’s so cool.

How well do you know Kim? Sure, you became friends over the course of The Hanged Man investigation, but how well do you really know him? Yes, okay, he joined Precinct 41 because you suggested it, and he’s not your partner anymore (Jean said he’d “put up with too much of your shit to be ousted by the first guy you latched onto after drinking yourself into fucking amnesia”) but you still see each other every day. He’s been your rock ever since you came into existence, but you haven’t been his. You’re like an annoying yappy dog with separation anxiety, except it’s also an alcoholic. Who the fuck wants a depressed acoholic dog following them around?

See, the thing is, there's this thought in your head. You've had it in there for quite a while, but you've yet to come up with a solution. You don't know what's going on, what's happening in your head and body. You don't understand it. You're not sure if you want to.

See, the thing is, you look at Kim, and there's a drop in your stomach. A punch to the gut. It feels like you've stepped off the edge of a cliff backwards, your eyes pointed helplessly towards the sky as you plummet to the ground. You don't know what's beneath you. You don't know what you're rushing towards.

It's not a bad thing, necessarily. It's a little uncomfortable, a little sad, a little desperate, but also—hopeful? Wistful? Longing, maybe?

Your tongue is thick and heavy in your mouth like a brick weighing down a tarp—how could it not be, with what you're about to ask? Kim is a very private person. It took you ages to work up the confidence to call him your friend outside the privacy of your own mind, and sometimes, you're still not sure he is. He might just be indulging the demands of his superior, or hanging out with you completely due to pity. How could someone so cool be friends with you? Thankfully, you're pretty sure it's only a little bit due to pity (how could anyone look at the sack of shit you are and not pity you) as he does seem to genuinely enjoy your company, for whatever reason.

Kim must have other friends he hangs out with. He’s a little anti-social, but he’s a nice guy, and pleasant to be around. Very amicable. You wonder if he misses anyone from Precinct 57. He must, he was there for what, twenty years? No way he’s completely a lone wolf after that much time. Does he miss them? Does he regret transferring? You’re the one who put the idea out there, so if he does, he must also regret meeting you.

He’s neatly slotted into the C-Wing at Precinct 41. Jean respects him, both as an officer and as a person, perhaps doubly so for being willing to put up with so much of your shit. McLaine and Torson admire how badass and cool he is. Minot appreciates his quiet and reserved nature, as does Pidieu. Even Gottlieb seems to like him, probably because he, unlike most of the other officers, is cautious and tries not to end up with more scars than necessary. And Trant is just a civilian consultant, but they seem to get along well enough. But, again, he must’ve had friends, good friends even, at 57. You feel guilty for dragging him away from them, you greedy bastard. You find something good and precious and you grab it and hold on tight with your big fucking paws. You’re a bastard who will hold on whenever there’s something good in your life until it crumbles due to the pressure you put on it.

No. No, Goddamit, fuck that. Kim chose to transfer. He could’ve brushed off your suggestion, politely smiled at you and declined, but he took it seriously and thought about it and made the final decision. Kim’s a fucking adult, and a Dolores-damn badass, he knows how to take care of himself. He knows how to take care of himself and then some. He took care of you during The Hanged Man case and he’s continuing to take care of you now. He’s someone with intense personal boundaries who’s decided to become friends with a recovering alcoholic and let you cry on his shoulder. Sure, you may have developed an unhealthy amount of dependency on him and his opinion of you, but you’re also recovering for yourself, damn it.

It is unhealthy, though, how much you’re doing it to make Kim proud of you. But you can’t help it. You can’t help how you feel about him.

You should say something. It’s been a little too long for this silence to be comfortable. Besides, you’ve been avoiding the topic you want to ask him about for long enough. You wish you had someone else to ask about this—you think Judit might be able to help, maybe even Jean, but they both knew you before, and you think it’d only hurt all of you if you asked them about it. And it would be unbelievably awkward. It’s going to be awkward enough asking Kim, who only knows your sins through stories instead of personal experience.

You clear your throat. “Kim, how did you know you were... y’know?”

He just raises an eyebrow. Of course, for all the times for his deductive reasoning to fail him, it had to be now, when you were asking him about his… sexuality. God, you can barely think the word in your head—how the hell are you supposed to say it out loud?

Alright, better to just dive in head first. Get it over with. Straight and simple. Or, would that be gay and simple? Non-straight and simple?

God, okay, focus. Asking Kim about sexuality. Go.

“Kim, how did you know you were a homo-sexual?”

His breath doesn’t catch , exactly, and you’re sure you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking, but his eyes widen just a fraction, and he leans back just the slightest bit, the chair not even creaking his weight shifts so little. Whatever he was expecting you to ask, it clearly wasn’t that .

He gives himself a moment to think by pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the cloth that he always keeps handy. You don’t call him out on it—it’s an intensely personal question, after all, and he deserves a second to consider it.

He puts his glasses back on and looks at you. The light catches them in just a way to make his eyes invisible in the gleam. Finally, he gives you a wry grin. “You clearly didn’t stop obsessing about sexuality.”

“See, the thing is, I just sort of tabled the issue for the time being, as we were busy solving a murder and there was other stuff to think about it. But then we solved the murder, and then I had plenty of time to think, but I’ve yet to come up with any conclusions.” You’ve finally gotten all of the plastic off your hands, and drum your newly clean fingers against the table. “Sorry I’m asking you about all of this stuff again. The only other people I really know are you and the others at Precinct 41. And I don’t think I’m on good enough standing to talk to them about it. Sorry,” you add again for good measure.

(You’ve been trying to cut back on the sorries, but it’s hard. Jean has threatened more than once to put a Sorry Jar on your desk, and you think the only reason he hasn’t is because he hasn’t found a jar big enough.)

Kim takes a deep breath. His fingers seem to twitch absentmindedly, and you’re sure if he was less principled, he’d been fiddling with the neck of his jacket or chewing on the side of his cheek, which you’d only seen him done once, when the two of you were interviewing a particularly racist woman in the precinct who had two young children with her.

“I was thirteen, I think.” You struggle not to interrupt—that’s so young! You’re not even sure if you knew you were… whatever you are before, and you had 44 years to figure it out. “There… there was a boy I liked. His name was Daniel. He was a bit of a rebel, skipping class to smoke, and he claimed to own a motorcycle, though I never saw it. I liked him.”

Hm… Well, that’s not particularly helpful. It’s not like you can talk about your own maybe-possibly homo-sexual awakening, since you’re pretty sure it involves—

What does it involve?

Wait, shit, Kim’s about to speak again.

“Harry…” Oh snap! He pulled out your name! He’s only done that, like, five times! “I’m making some assumptions about what you’re struggling with, and I wanted to ask if you’ve ever head of bi-sexuality?”

You rack your brain, but, nope, nada, nothing. No no nopey nope. But bi stands for two, right?

“Don’t think so. But I’m pretty sure bi stands for two, so I’m guessing it has to do with the number two?”

Kim gives you a small smile, and you struggle not to preen under his approving eyes. “Yes. Bi-sexuality refers to individuals who are attracted to two, or possibly more, genders.” He waits quietly for you to process this.

Oh. Oh. Oh! Bi- sexuality, meaning two, as compared to homo-sexuality, meaning those attracted to the same gender. That was a pretty easy leap, now that you think about it. You should’ve been able to do it on your own.

Bi-sexuality. Attraction to multiple genders. Huh. You’re pretty sure that’s what you are. Feels nice to have some kind of label for yourself. You mouth the words, testing them out in your mouth. Bi-sexual. You wonder how Kim learned about all of this. Though if he’s known he’s a part of the Homo-sexual Underground since he was thirteen, he’s had a lot of time to research this, probably. You wonder if Kim once thought he was bi-sexual. That one is probably a bit too personal, not that that’s stopped you before, but no reason to push.

Wait. Multiple genders? As in, more than two?

“Wait. Multiple genders? As in, more than two?”

Kim reaches across the table and pats your resting left hand. “I think that’s a conversation for another time, hmm?”

Sounds good to you! You’ve had enough learning for tonight.

“Thank you for this, Kim. Really, I mean it. Sorry again about asking.”

He smiles again and leans toward you, letting his gloved palm settle on your shoulder. “No need to apologize, Harry. I’m happy to help educate you on your journey of self-discovery. Though perhaps give me a bit more warning next time. If you’d like, I can lend you some reading materials.”

He lets his hand drop back to his side, but you still feel the heat in your body where his gloved skin touched you. You burn with it. The feeling of his touch has lit some sort of fire in you, and the way he’s looking at you is only fanning the flames.

You barely manage to give a tiny nod in response to his statement, and your hands fly to your tare bottle again, desperate to clutch something and have a weight to ground yourself.

Kim settles back into his chair, content again, and you figure he’s giving you more time to process the new information he’s giving you. A Kim secret about his childhood and a big clue (if not the answer) about your sexuality. God, he’s so cool.

You find it in you to look at Kim again, out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly, finally, the thought clicks in your head. Whatever is going on with you, whatever is happening, you seem to have finally figured it out. At the very least, you’ve put a name to the feeling you have when you stare at him.

When you look at Kim, his dissecting eyes, his thick glasses, his quirked eyebrow, the subtle curve in the corner of his lips that's like a secret little smile just for himself, one you wouldn’t be able to read if you weren’t so attuned to him, the brush of his hair that he keeps oh so neatly managed, his gloves clean of any sign of his smoking, of the one cigarette he allows himself, one of his few vices he indulges in, Dolores Dei, his everything—

It's yearning.

You look at Kim, and you yearn. You yearn to touch the slender fingers that lay beneath his thick leather gloves, to examine his dark eyes up close, to feel his hands on you, to, to, to—

For what, though? What exactly do you yearn for?

That thought will take you at least another eight hours. Or twenty hours. Or whatever.

#disco elysium #disco elysium fanfiction #harry x kim #kim x harry #what's their ship name? i haven't seen it #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois x kim kitsuragi #kim kitsuragi x harry du bois

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thisiswherewestart · 4 years ago

Text

I Remember (1/?)

Today had started out like any other Tuesday. I had woken up, logged in to work remotely for a few hours and then moved to a café for a change of scenery and to grab some lunch.

I usually frequented cafés close by my apartment, but my friend had highly recommended this quaint, newly opened one with an extensive pasta menu that was a half-hour train ride away. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for good pasta, and her rave review of their squid ink spaghetti had haunted me for the past week.

And so there I was on a Tuesday afternoon, after checking that they welcomed lingering customers. My laptop sat open across from me so I could monitor my inbox and I surveyed the simple decorations that created a homely ambiance. The fact that I was the only customer helped complete the serene scene. If this café were within walking distance, I would come again just for the atmosphere.

Ten minutes after giving my order to the waiter, my food finally arrived. The dark sauce coated the noodles beautifully, the seafood peeking out between the long strands making my mouth salivate in anticipation. As I picked up my fork, a tinkle of a bell sounded from the café entrance.

"Hello," a soft but confident voice greeted the approaching waiter. "One salmon aglio olio to go please. Thanks."

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. My back was to the entrance but I would recognise that voice even in a noisy room.

"Tasha?"

And that confirmed it. It was him.

"Dongyoung," I greeted, standing and turning around to face the man. "It's been a while."

"When did you come back to Korea?" His tone was accusing now.

"How are you? How's Taeyong? How are the kids?" I shot out question after question, hoping he would forget the one he had asked.

"We're all fine. When did you come back?"

So much for that.

"Oppa…"

"Don't you 'oppa' me. We're basically the same age."

I sighed, dropping onto my seat and turning away from him. "I've been back for a year now."

He took the seat opposite me. Uninvited, but not unexpected.

"One year." The hurt in his voice made me wince. "A whole year and you didn't bother to call."

"Dongyoung, please."

His laugh was void of mirth. "So we're back to this, huh? The last time I saw you, you exclusively called me Doie."

I looked up at him.

"I guess that's what four years of silence does between friends."

*~*

"Five, six, seven, eight…"

The 7th Sense NCT U unit was made up of my favourite fellow trainees.

Mark, who was the same age as my little brother whom I dearly missed. His naive sense of humour and bright eyed wonder had me growing fond of him in no time at all. Our shared love of story writing also brought us closer, as we encouraged each other to keep up with writing even as we were busy with idol training. He was my happy pill during our years as trainees together.

Ten, my fellow international school kid. We were different in that he came from money while I was the daughter of a diplomat. PSA: not all diplomats are wealthy! They are still government officers and don't earn nearly as much as you think they do. One of the perks was getting subsidised education, which made it possible for my siblings and I to attend international schools in non-English speaking countries we lived in. Ten and I hadn't known each other prior to becoming trainees, but he and I found that we just clicked. We even found several mutual friends in our international school networks.

Jaehyun and I took a little longer to warm up to each other. I was a fairly quiet person, only talkative around people I was comfortable with, so I was never one to initiate conversation. Jaehyun never approached me to start talking either, so a few months after we first met, our relationship had not progressed beyond a polite greeting when we bumped into each other. It took Taeyong to help us break the ice, but once we got to talking we found that our interests overlapped and they were the foundation to our pretty solid friendship.

Taeyong is the one trainee to whom I’m most grateful. I entered the company shortly after he did, and he seemed to decide to take me under his wing upon our first meeting. It didn’t matter that our training schedules didn’t overlap; he would always check in on me and help me when I struggled with getting dance moves memorised. In time, as Taeyong started writing and producing more songs, he would include me in his process and get me to record demos with him and Dongyoung.

Dongyoung was an enigma to me. I knew he had a kind heart because he would do things like invite foreign trainees home during holidays so they would have somewhere to go. I could see the warmth in his interactions with other trainees but he was only ever cordial to me, so I always thought he did not like me very much. It was, once again, thanks to Taeyong that we got closer. Dongyoung and I were both vocalists, but I dabbled in some rapping and Taeyong seemed to enjoy writing songs that featured the three of us. Studio sessions with the two of them became some of my favourite memories of my time as a trainee.

I was looking through the lyrics of the latest song Taeyong had written when the group finished their practice run and paused for a water break.

“Tash,” Taeyong greeted as he flopped down next to me, leaning his back on the cool mirror.

“You guys are looking really good,” I praised, handing him a water bottle. “The modifications you guys made last week improved the overall performance a lot.”

“Right? I’m so glad the choreographer let us do that.”

Dongyoung approached us, sitting on my other side. I passed him the last of my stock of water bottles. “Hey.”

“I’m beat,” he sighed. “But we look good right?”

“Yeah I was just saying that.”

The three of us sat in amicable silence for a few moments, the two of them gulping down the cool water as I finished perusing Taeyong’s lyrics. I shut my eyes as my thoughts turned to my own debut, or lack thereof, and my family’s increasing worries.

“Hey, you okay?” I opened my eyes to find Dongyoung peering at me in concern.

I gave him a half smile. “I guess.”

“You’ll debut soon,” Taeyong assured me, guessing the subject of my thoughts correctly. I appreciated his vote of confidence, but we all knew that was a lie, at least if I stayed at SM. Having debuted Red Velvet two years ago, it was highly improbable that they would debut another girl group so soon. And besides, they were all tied up in NCT’s official debut, with two U units, 127 and Dream all training hard to perfect their debut performances.

“We should probably get back to training,” Taeyong said apologetically. His eyes were kind as he briefly grasped my shoulder with a comforting hand before standing up. “Tell me what you think of that song later,” he nodded at the printed lyrics in my hand. “I want your verse by the end of the week!”

Dongyoung sat studying my expression for a bit longer.

“I’m fine, Doie. Really.” I pushed his shoulder gently. “Go. They’re waiting for you.”

“We’ll go out to eat after this, okay?” he offered, standing. “We can get pasta. My treat.”

“Man after my own heart,” I proclaimed, clutching my chest in jest.

He grinned as he walked to his starting position.

I watched as Taeyong counted the boys into yet another rehearsal. Meeting Dongyoung's eyes in the practice room mirror, I could see the nerves he increasingly felt but rarely showed for their debut performance, only seven days from now. I smiled as brightly as I could, hoping he couldn't tell my heart was breaking knowing I would be leaving in five.

*~*

The Doyoung that sat before me today was a fully fledged kpop star, hair perfectly coiffed and clothes fitting his comfortable but stylish lookbook. He had truly grown into his looks, and seeing him was making my heart ache. With pride? With longing? I didn't even know myself. I had just started developing maybe-more-than-friends feelings towards him when I had found myself back with my family.

"You look good. Healthy."

"Where have you been for the last four years, Natasha?"

His use of my entire first name hurt more than I expected. Was this how he felt when I called him Dongyoung?

"I went back home."

"As in back to your home country?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes."

"Why? And don't tell me it's because you didn't debut with Red Velvet."

"You're kidding, right?" It was my turn to laugh humourlessly. "Has SM debuted another girl group since then?"

"Well no, but-"

"Don't say they might have added me to the group like they did Yeri. When I left, it had been one year since that happened and two years since they debuted!"

"But why did you have to leave?" Doyoung's voice was rising. "You could have moved to another company. You know you had the skills to debut."

"I just… had to, okay?"

I guess he heard the pleading in my voice because he switched to another line of questioning after studying me for a minute.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice was quiet. “Taeyong and me, especially,” he sighed. “We missed you. We still miss you.”

“I’m sorry. I know it was shitty of me but I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of me leaving.” I did not want to give you guys the chance to persuade me to stay.

There was a pause. “Did you miss us?”

Tears I thought had dried up years ago threatened to fall. “You have no idea how much,” I whispered, willing myself not to cry.

“Oh I think I do-”

“At least you guys had each other,” I blurted.

“Excuse me?” Doyoung narrowed his eyes at me. “We were not the ones who stopped talking to you! I called until your number went out of service! And then we looked for you online but there was absolutely nothing. Why did you fall off the grid completely?”

I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by the waiter bringing Doyoung his food. Doyoung thanked him and handed him a card. “I’ll take care of her bill as well.”

“Don’t,” I protested. We were in the middle of an argument and he still wanted to take care of me. “Just charge him for his food, please,” I asked the waiter.

“I’ll pay for her,” Doyoung insisted. “Thank you.”

The waiter left, an awkward smile on his face as he retreated.

“I have to go now, so we’ll put a pin in this conversation.” Doyoung stared hard at me until I nodded my assent. "Does anyone know you're back?"

I shook my head. "I work in software now. I don't run in the same circles anymore."

"You know we have these things called phones, right?" He gestured at his Samsung with exaggerated motions. "They're amazing. You can connect with anyone, anywhere. Even if they're in a different country." He looked at me pointedly.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I could have, should have, kept in touch but I just… I couldn't."

"Why?"

A million reasons. "I don't want to get into it right now."

"Fine. But you know I'll keep asking until I get answers."

I smiled, thinking about his habit of persistently badgering us until he got what he wanted. "I know."

"In fact," he grabbed my phone, which had been lying next to my rapidly cooling plate of pasta. "I'm going to call myself so I have your number."

Before I could protest, he had held my phone up to unlock it with my face and was dialling.

"Wait, I-"

He clicked the dial button and automatically put the phone up to his ear, before slowly lowering it again, staring at the screen in disbelief.

"So you kept my number. This whole time. And you still never called."

I didn’t know what to say to that. All I could do was apologise again. “I-”

“Just save it, Tash.” He put my phone back on the table. “I’m going now. Pick up when I call, okay?”

“I don’t like talking on the phone. Can you text me instead?” I joked, trying to keep my tone light.

“Do not test me,” Doyoung glowered. “Answer when I call.”

“Okay,” I murmured, but he was already walking to the counter to pick up his card.

He left without looking back.

#nct #nct fic #doyoung #doyoung fic #nct scenarios

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