#remember he didn’t actually do it but he did get turned to dust by April

[forgetful-nerd]

After rewatching TMNT 2012 I had an epiphany

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Chronicle of Emotions (Fluff)

FastForward!Raphael x reader

Gif credit: isitdonproof

A/N: This would very much create a paradox in space and time, but fuck it. Let have some fun!❤️ Also, I know that BTTS aired in 2008, but April mentions that they have been gone for around a year, so I’ve set their return to their own timeline in 2007.

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Being punished with cleaning off Cody’s collection after an incident with Mikey, Raphael stumbles upon your diary from the past.

Warnings: Other than invasion of privacy, one that I can think of❤️

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Raphael grumbled and cursed to himself as he dusted off the boxes around him, mumbling about how much he hated the future. He couldn’t believe he was the one that had to take the fall for this! It was Mikey that started it! Continuously poking that Helix game into his face, until Raph finally jumped on him to give him a beating. But Master Splinter wasn't having it, especially not in Cody’s penthouse. So Raph was the one that got punished with cleaning Cody’s collection.

Raphael wandered through Cody's collection of artifacts, recognizing quite a few of them. A samurai suit, some utrom technology and things from their lair. Some of them were more dusty than others, like the many books that once stood in Leonardo’s bedroom. Understandable. He didn’t even read them now in the future. But as he browsed through the items and boxes, one particular object caught his attention - a small, worn notebook. Raph frowned. He had never seen this before. Was it one of Donnie’s notebooks? Or one of his future ones? Raph did not know, so he opened it and looked at the first page.

Property of (Y/N) (L/N).

Raphael's heart skipped a beat. (Y/N). The name resonated with a sense of familiarity and warmth. You. One of his best friends left back home in 2006. Officially his best friend, yet he had dreamed of you to be so much more to him. He admitted it to himself long ago - he loved you. And to be standing there, 99 years in the future with your diary in his hand, he could not help but feel a slight pain in his heart. He missed you.

But to say that Raphael didn’t find himself curious about what the diary in his hand held, would be a lie. So with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Raphael delved into the diary, turning to the first page.

19th of July, 2003. Dear diary You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me today. I’ve met four turtles! Four MUTANT turtles! Talking, walking on two feet, carrying weapons and doing ninja things! And get this, they are my age! How sick is that?! I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. Even I feared I had lost my mind for a moment, but they are as real as the page I’m writing on. And they are nice. They are sweet and funny and I hope I can see them again soon!

Raph felt a smile spread on his lips, remembering the day he and his brothers first met you. It had been a Friday night when you came to surprise your cousin April, not knowing she already had four mutant turtles and their rat father staying in her living room, using it as a hideout for a short time. Raph and his brothers would have stayed hidden away from you in April’s closet, had a bug not been crawling on Raph’s arm, causing him to burst through the door and directly into your face.

Raph felt his face get hot when he remembered that you actually caught the bug, and managed to calm him down, even though you were still shocked by the sudden surprise of a humanoid turtle in your cousin’s home. And that had been the starting point for Raphael’s growing feelings for you.

Raph flipped through the pages, skimming at the words, feeling curiosity growing. There were entries about battles fought and victories celebrated, about friendships forged and broken. Names he knew and names he had never heard of before. Someone from school or work mentioned once, just to never be mentioned again. Raphael's eyes widened as he read about your reflections on their encounters, realizing that his presence had left an impact on you just as you had on him. Raphael's cheeks warmed, and he couldn't deny the fluttering in his chest. You were not just a friend; you were someone he had held close in his heart, even if it was a secret he had kept buried beneath his tough skin. And even though it was wrong of him to be reading the words of your thoughts, he just couldn’t help himself.

In the quiet solitude of Cody's futuristic lair, Raphael found himself drawn not only to your words in your diary but to the feeling of being around you once more. He couldn't deny the impact your diary’s presents had on him, awakening emotions he had long kept guarded. Raph knew he would see you again one day, but he could not stop himself from missing you.

“How is the cleaning going, Raphael?”

Splinter’s voice from the doorway made Raph jump. Even with his graduation to Chunin coming up, Raph’s skills could not match his Master’s sneaking skills… especially not when he stood with his beak deep in your diary.

“Great, Master Splinter!”, Raph said, hiding your diary on the back of his shell. “Absolutely great!”

Splinter was quick to notice the way his son was standing. His smile on his face, along with the way his arms was bent to the back of his shell. Having been the one raising Raphael and his brothers for the past 18 years,  Splinter knew way too well how it looked when they tried to keep something from him. But knowing Raph’s hatred for the future, Splinter found it somewhat comforting that his son had found something he wished to keep hidden. To keep for himself. Maybe it was enough to make him more comfortable with their current situation.

“That sounds good”, Splinter said, taking in the somewhat cleaner state of Cody’s collection. There was only so much you could do with an almost hundred years old collection and an angry turtle. “I believe you’ve been punished enough for today, Raphael”.

Raph breathed a sigh of relief. After his father’s reaction to he and his brothers finding April and Casey's old journal, he feared what he would say, had he known about your diary in his hands. He thanked his Master before waiting for him to leave, so he could run to his room all while keeping the old worn book in his hand a secret.

Once Raph was sure he was alone and that none of his brothers would burst through the door, Raph turned to open your diary once more. With a page open he turned to look at the date.

29th of July 2006

Raph almost slammed your diary shut again. His hands trembled a bit. That was the day he and his brothers traveled to the future. The day they left you, April and Casey in the past, reminding him just how much he hated the future. Yet Raph did not leave your diary.

Raph’s heart broke a bit when he read your words. A whole year you were left in confusion before any of them returned home. You, Casey and April looked everywhere for them. Every place you had known for them to call home. You had searched in Casey’s farmhouse and Leatherhead’s lair. April had even traveled to Japan to ask the Ancient One, while Casey searched out of state, all while you stayed back, just in case they got home. A whole year, and nothing. April and Casey came home empty handed. No one knew where the turtle brothers and their father were.

Raphael continued flipping through the worn pages of your diary, his eyes scanning the entries searching for something he did not know how to describe. As he turned a page, he halted.

13th of September 2007

Raph knew he shouldn’t read it. Donnie has already told him and his brothers the dangers of meddling with their timelines, and how just being in the year 2105 could already have made unknown changes to their own future. But did Raph care about that? No. He already hated the future as it was, so making it worse would feel any different to him.

It happened! They are home! The boys are home! So much happened, and I don’t know where to start, but the most important part is that the boys are home and safe. April and Casey texted me and told me they had found them in the lair. And it was true! They were all there! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Splinter and Raph. Speaking of Raph, it happened. It fucking happened. Finally it fucking happened!

Raph narrowed his eyes in confusion. What happened? Or… what will happen? - The fucking future thing was going to fry his brain one day.

Raphael kissed me!

Raphael's eyes widened as he absorbed the words on the page. The realization hit him like a tidal wave. He kissed you. He would kiss you! At some time in the future… or in the past… fuck that shit! He kissed you!

He did not say hey nor let his brothers say anything. He just walked straight over to me and kissed me! Just like that! In front of everyone! I will not lie and tell you that I didn’t want it, because in actuality, I did. I really wanted it, probably for way longer than I originally thought. I do really like Raphael, and it’s safe to say that he likes me as well.

His heart thudded in his chest as he read your words. You liked him? Just like he liked you? His hands shook as he tried to calm his breath. It was like an adrenaline bomb had hit him, making his heart raise even further.

Raph was tempted to read further. Turn to the next page and learn what would happen next. What words you would exchange and what actions the two of you would take. But just as he was about to turn the page, he decided against it. He already knew too much. Or maybe just enough. He now knew it was safe to kiss you when he turned home, and that you wouldn’t push him away nor fight against it. Learning more than that would take the excitement out of everything the two of you would do together.

Closing the diary with a mixture of awe and anticipation, Raphael couldn't help but smile. The knowledge that you harbored feelings for him, even if it was in a moment he had not yet experienced himself, filled him with warmth. And as he snuck out of his room to return your diary to Cody’s collection, he hoped that none of his brothers would notice him nor the little skip in his step.

Maybe the future wasn’t as bad as he had made it out to be.

[ggukkiedae]

another confidant

date: april 2018

warning/s: insecure thoughts

notes from c: anything spoken in italics is spoken in english, just some soft jaehyun getting a look into the way hannah’s mind works for today 🥰 and ctto for the gif, it’s not mine i found it on pinterest

i’m literally gonna be watching nct nation in like 30 minutes! so a little post to celebrate that 🥰

word count: 1.5k

in which hannah’s solo date becomes a vent-to-jaehyun dinner

Hannah found herself plopping down onto the ground and groaning out loud as soon as Taeyong called for the end of their practice. They had been going at it for the whole day, not to mention the practice she had with 127 earlier that morning for Chain… Wow. She was actually working on a 127 thing outside of NCT 2018. She really is part of 127. 

A deep chuckle together with a hand tickling her stomach brought her back to reality. Instinctively, she swatted the hand away and rolled back over her head. Once she was sat up, she gave a glare to Jaehyun who simply shrugged. 

“For someone who wants to die, you sure have a lot of energy,” Ten shook his head at her and offered her a hand up. 

“Oh, you and I both know who really wants me to die,” a half-bitter chuckle escaped her as she remembered a few of the comments she received about her joining 127. This statement caused multiple heads to turn towards her in worry, which, in turn, was amusing enough to her but eye-roll inducing. “Would you guys relax? I’m out of my emo phase about this, don’t worry.”

“I gave her cuddles last night, so she’s good,” Jaehyun’s dimples popped out as he handed her a water bottle. “Cuddles that she asked for, if I may add.”

Hannah smacked the 97 liner’s arm as a bunch of cries of disbelief rose from the rest of the members. Surprisingly, or not, a few of the older members suddenly gained energy once again and started coming at Hannah for not being affectionate with them. Both physically and verbally. 

The British girl burst into laughter as she ran away from Johnny, Ten, Yuta, and Taeyong started chasing her around their practice room. When the other members said that they’d try to not treat her too much like a girl to not make her feel out of place, she didn’t think that would mean getting smothered with affection. In all honesty, she wasn’t prepared when members outside of Donghyuck, Jaemin, Kun, Johnny, and Jaehyun all started attempting to coddle her. She wasn’t used to it. She was used to coddling her two maknaes, not the other way around. 

But they had all made it clear after the whole no-sleep fiasco that they were going to baby her to the best of their capabilities. When she tried to get Taeyong to talk them out of it, he pulled the “you’re-the-third-youngest-member” card and laughed it off. 

Coming back to the present time, she felt someone grab her around the waist. It was Johnny, if his laughter wasn’t anything to tell by. Her face lit up as she remembered something that Yoonmi had taught her before. With some hesitation, she hooked her leg around Johnny’s leg and pulled forward until he was on the ground, her on top of him and somehow effectively pinning him down. 

Everyone stopped what they were doing. 

Jisung’s voice was the one that broke the silence. “Did noona just… throw Johnny hyung to the ground?”

“Yes, she did,” Jeno smiled. 

“This is rich,” Donghyuck’s snickers filled the room. “I can’t believe you actually used what Yoonmi taught you and made it work.”

Hannah shrugged her shoulders and got off of a still-in-shock Johnny while dusting off her hands. “Once I tried it on Jungkook oppa, I became pretty confident in doing it on anyone no matter their strength or size. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner plans to go to.”

She picked up her bag and walked out the door, laughing as Donghyuck called for her to bring food home. Right, he was spending the night in her and Mark’s place. Just like he’s been doing every other night for weeks now. 

Footsteps caught up with her, catching her attention and making her glance back. Jaehyun had caught up to her and thrown an arm around her shoulders. 

“Hey, princess.”

“You know,” she laughed at him, “the others have started calling me princess because of you.”

“I’m the original,” he grinned, leaning his head a little closer to hers teasingly. “Mind telling me who you’re having dinner with?”

She rolled her eyes fondly at Jaehyun’s casual attempt of being protective. “Myself, actually. I read about this new restaurant opening up nearby, and I wanted to try the food out for myself before I recommend it to anyone.”

With one look at Jaehyun’s growing smile, Hannah knew he was going to start persuading her to let him come with her. Before he could say anything, she let out a groan and shrugged his arm off her shoulder.

Jaehyun was left watching her back as she walked away, unsure of what just happened. Once she was right in front of the elevators, she pressed the button, turned around, and looked at the 97 liner with a raised eyebrow.

“You coming?”

With a grin, Jaehyun made his way over to her. The elevator doors opened just as he got there. “I knew you loved me.”

She just scoffed, hiding her smile at the chance to bond with one of her new members. “You get fifteen minutes to shower. Meet me in our dorm building’s lobby after.

They accidentally matched outfits, much to Jaehyun’s delight. The moment she saw his pastel blue hoodie and white sweats, she made to get back into the elevator, but Jaehyun snickered at her and pulled her out of the dorm building.

That’s how she found herself seated in the corner booth of a new restaurant, aggressively stabbing the carrots in her dish and dropping them on the spare plate she had requested.

“Hannah,” Jaehyun watched her amusedly while taking some of her pasta with the carrot slice and eating it, “it isn’t so bad.”

She scrunched her nose at him. “The pasta isn’t bad, but who in their right mind puts carrot slices on pasta? Carrots are only good for carrot cakes, and you can’t even taste or feel them in those!”

Jaehyun chuckled and switched their plates, placing his creamy lemon chicken in front of her. “Eat that. You need protein to build up the strength if you’re going to have the complete NCT schedule like Mark and Haechan.”

“Don’t remind me,” she puts some of the chicken on the spare plate and pushed it closer to the boy in front of her. “After Chain, we have our last Dream Comeback with Mark. Have you heard the title song?”

“Not yet,” he gave her a look, “you’re not stressing yourself out, are you?”

For a while, all Jaehyun got from her in response was silence.

Hannah never really understood why the older members, especially recently, have been telling her to not stress herself out. In her point of view, stress was a normal part of the industry. If you weren’t getting stressed out, then didn’t that mean you didn’t care? 

If anything, everything that she went through the past few months made her believe that to a greater degree. She cared a lot. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun lightly knocked on the table in front of her, “thoughts out of your head and into our conversation, please.”

She composed herself. “Right, sorry. I am kinda stressing myself, but I don’t want anything I do to be half-assed, you know?”

He looked at her with curiosity. “How so?”

“I just feel like I wouldn’t be giving it my all if I wasn’t at least a little bit stressed. I care about my work and my performance, and I want it to show. I don’t know if it does.”

The older boy gave her a smile. “It does.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Jaehyun just shook his head, “You’ll never feel like it does because you’re always going to want to pick yourself apart to become better. Trust me when I say this, we all see how much you love this job and how you’re constantly improving.”

She poked at the food on her plate once again, although softly this time, lacking the violence she did it with earlier. She didn’t know if she wanted to believe Jaehyun’s words, but they sounded nice coming from him—someone who saw her work behind the scenes with fresh eyes. Should she take the benefit of her doubt and believe? 

She snorted a little and looked down at her plate, not wanting to spiral into a number of “what ifs” running through her head again. It wasn’t worth it, it always took a lot longer to get things done when she spiralled. Instead, she decided to lift the mood a little bit.

Noticing the food on her plate somehow successfully separated completely between the rice and the meat, she looked up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “It’s what I get for being a virgo, I guess.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you don’t believe me,” Jaehyun poked her cheek, “but I’ll let it slide for now. Hey, how do those astrology things work, anyway?”

Hannah excitedly launched into an explanation of astrology in a mix of English and Korean, one unrelated thought echoing in her head. 

Thank god that Jaehyun wasn’t only someone she felt she could talk to, but that he was also someone who knew when not to press.

taglist: @1-800-enhypennabi @strwberrydinosaur @sunflower-0180 @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @world-full-of-roses

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

[vaudeville-moggie]

Risetober day 4: Amulet

previous; day 3: pumpkin next; day 5: Future idk how I feel about it it might be a little rushed,, read on AO3 or under the cut!

Donatello was conducting research in the hidden city. After the whole, y’know, kraang situation, his siblings and he were regarded as heroes both above the ground and below, in the Hidden City. He must have visited more than 18 different shops selling mystic objects, asking questions until the shopkeepers forced him out. They didn’t know anything about magic! Each of them! completely useless! Donatello kicked a rock, hurting his foot more than the rock. He walked into the next shop, scanning the tiny, eclectic shop with his goggles. An immense aura of purple showed up on the UI with the highest power level readings he’d ever seen. He had to flick his goggles up to see the object. A sort of necklace, with a diamond-shaped glowing pink gemstone and metal band. It sat in a glass container on a shelf behind the store’s keeper, a green yokai watching Donnie with a scowl. “what can you tell me about that?” Donatello asked, pointing at the necklace. The storekeeper turned around. “this thing?” The ogre guy asked, taking the amulet from the shelf and putting it in front of him. “Yeah.” “you can have it! It’s been here gathering dust so long it was here when I bought the place,” The ogre tossed it to Donnie, who almost dropped it before it rested in his hands. He immediately started typing his observations on his wrist console as he returned home.

Even back at the lair he didn’t leave his lab, and when he did the amulet went with him, April asked what it was, and reached out to grab it from Donnie’s hands, only to get her own hands slapped away. Eventually, he put it around his neck and started wearing it 24/7.

“...Donnie?” Leo said, standing in front of his brother, leaning on his crutches. Had he been saying something? Donnie had been lost in thought, but now he couldn’t even remember what he was thinking about. “’Nardo,” he replied flatly. “I said, what’s with the spooky 18th centuary neckpiece? Halloween spirit embody you or something?” “It’s september.” “It’s October 4,” Leonardo said, shifting his crutches to put the back of his hand on Donnie’s forehead. Donnie flinched away, holding a hand over the amulet and hissing ferally. Leo withdrew and gave him a concerned look. Donnie just scowled at him and walked around him. Later that day, Mikey and Donnie were playing an old arcade fight simulator, Mikey had won 8-to-2, and Donatello was desperately trying not to lose again. Suddenly, a bolt of electricity shot down Donnie’s arm into the game. Don’s character spontaneously let out 8 combo moves and a finishing strike. Don flinched away from the console. “What! What!- What did you do?!!” Mikey cried, hitting the machine and narrowing his eyes at Donnie. “I didn’t do anything. It’s probably some faulty wiring, the game zapped me.” “Fix it!” “I have more important things to do, dear Angelo,” Donnie said coldly, returning to his lab. He locked himself in there, he replayed the moment in his head. It had to have been from him; if it was the machine, Mikey would’ve felt it too.

Raphael was watching stand-up comedy on his phone when Mikey slumped into his side. “Is something wrong, big guy?” “Mikey filled his cheek with air then huffed and said, “Welll… it’s probably nothing but, I’m not sure. Something’s off with Donnie. More than usual, and he hissed at Leo! Like, actually hissed! He’s been more growly and snappy! If he talks to us at all! He’s been obsessed with that necklace thing he found in the hidden city. And!! I got a bad vibe from it.” “Don’t you worry Mikey, Raph’ll talk some sense into him,” Raph said, putting his phone down and giving Mikey an encouraging smile.

The biggest brother knocked gently at the closed lab door, “Heey Donnie,” He started as softly as he could. No answer. “Donnie?” Raph pushed the door open. Donnie was whispering to himself. “Donnie?” Donnie snapped his head around and hissed at the light from the hall coming into his dark lab. “Hey Donnie, love what you’ve done with the lab…” Raph said, shuffling nervously further into the room. Donnie raised his brow, then smiled and leaned back on his chair, he looked around the lab, it wasn't that much different, a bit messy, but normal. He had been studying many different mystic artifacts. “Why thank you Raphaela, glad someone notices my hard work wthic regarding the mystery of mystical energies.” “Speaking of which, Mikey was a little worried about that, necklace thingy?” “It’s mine!” Donnie snapped his hand over the amulet, jumping on top of his chair, almost toppling over. Raph looked taken aback, “I think you’re obsessed with that thing Donnie, remember when you were obsessed with that video game-” “That was different, its different. It understands me,” “What do you mean…?” “the magic, Raph, it’s alive, it’s an entity, it’ll help me fix everything,” Donnie said, climbing down back onto the ground and walking towards Raph while he tried to explain with his hands. Raph noticed subtle, electric-purple, glowing marks under Donnie’s skin, not his usual ninpō glowing marks, they were like his veins were infected, almost like Krang possession. Raph stared at Donnie and stepped back. “Raph? What’s wrong?” Raph choked on a gasp as he saw Donnie’s eyes glow the same sickly pink. “Maybe you should take that thing off-” “No!” The force of the shout sent shockwaves through the air and Raph stumbled back. Donnie’s eyes widened, then he smiled and laughed, more experimentation with his powers followed, bending the matter around him to create water and ammonia, and then he moved on to more complicated molecules: caffeine, glucose, etc. Raph watched him nervously, following him around his lab and down to the sick bay. Donnie hooked himself up to the monitoring devices they had, writing down his blood pressure and heart rate every once in a while. “Donnie, you said “it” was alive?” “It seems to have some thought of its own, but I have figured out how to communicate with it. Oh! I wish I could take a live MRI of my brain…” “Surprise!” Mikey said, having snuck in a while ago, he jumped onto Donatello, but he had known of his little brother’s presence all along and flicked him to the floor without even touching him. “What !!?!? how did you do that!!” Mikey said, scrambling to his feet and pointing at Donnie for emphasis. “Science,” Donnie said, flourishing his hand, a coloured orb appeared in his hand. Mikey realised it was a water balloon too slowly. He was drenched. “ENOUGH” a voice from inside Donnie’s head spoke. He looked at his brothers. “THEY CANNOT HEAR ME, CHILD. THEY WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND ME! NOW, MY POWER IS WORTHY OF THINGS MUCH GREATER THAN SILLY CHILDREN’S TOYS, DON’T YOU THINK?” “Like… we could… create food, provide clean water, recycle plastic instantly…” Donnie said, looking at his hands. Raph and Mikey exchanged a glance as they listened to their brother speak to himself, concern giving them both Raph chasms, as strange as that was on Mikey’s young face. “WHY SETTLE FOR ALL THAT WORK WHEN YOU COULD SIMPLY RECREATE THE WORLD, IN OUR IMAGE.” “But Ame, we could desperse your power amoung the people of earth and then-” “NO, FOOL. THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE.” “Donnie, who’s Ame?” Mikey asked, scared to approach his brother. “Nothing’s impossible, we can find a way to-” “NO. YOU ARE TOO WEAK TO DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE.” “Well this is my body and you’re just an amulet so I don’t see how-” “NOT ANYMORE.”

Donnie felt like he had lost consciousness, but suddenly there he was. High above even the tallest buildings of New York, Donatello hovered in the air, raw mystic energy sparking through his veins, over the surface of his skin and into the air all around him. It was a sickly magenta, much more pink than Donnie’s usual purple. The amulet around his neck glowed brightly and he held his hand over it protectively. But it wasn’t him, there was something else, something insidious in his body, controlling everything. But he could still feel, and see. “Don’t you see, Donatello? It’s disgusting. This planet was beautiful. And look what yokai and human kinds alike have done to it.” It was making a lot of sense, and It only meant well… “What about my brothers? And Papa? And April, the future kid… and his mum I guess?” “They do not matter!” Ame held Don’s hands up and started to tear the atmosphere apart. “NO!” Donatello shouted, desperately pulling back. “Ha! You think- oh shit.” Donnie looked, it was working! His hands shakily lowered, the atmosphere unscathed. Glowing chains shot up into Donnie’s view. He smiled. Michelangelo! He was pulled roughly down to the roof of a skyscraper. “Donnie!” Raph and Leo were on the roof too, all three brothers called to him. “I’m here!” Donnie tried to yell, but the only sound out of his mouth was Ame’s “Pestulent turtles!” as It broke the chains. The three brothers screamed in fear. “Donnie! If you can hear us, you’re not alone! You’ve got to fight!” “well I know I’m not alone I literally have two souls in my body right now-” “Donnie! I can sense you being pedantic! You know what Raph means!” Leo yelled. Donnie sighed, Anatawa hitori janai. The purple markings glowed, as Donnie pulled control back. Shakily, he reached for the amulet. His brothers cheered and Ame screamed. “NO! NOT AGAIN! YOU FOOL YOU-” A piercing scream was abruptly cut off as Donnie tore the amulet from his neck, it must have somehow worked its way into Donnie’s neck somehow because when he pulled it off something snapped, and blood poured from his neck. He reached up to grab his neck and his brothers rushed forward, but he was out before they reached him.

Donnie woke in sickbay, thick bandages around his neck. He blinked and winced. “He’s awake!” Mikey’s voice made Donnie’s headache worse. “Sh, turn the lights down,” Leo’s voice. The lights went down and Donnie just shut his eyes. “Hey Donnie, don’t try to speak, you’re in sickbay. You’re safe.” Leo’s voice. Leo’s hand on his arm. He fell asleep and woke up a few times, his brothers talking softly to him. When he woke up for real he was alone, he felt the bandages on his neck, and he wasn’t attached to any machines any more. He sat up and Leo walked in with his signature teacup and smiled at Donnie. “How are you feeling?” “How am I alive?” “Wow, right there. Okay,” Leo chuckled, putting his cup down and walking over to him, sitting on the edge of the cot. “Mikey did some mystic magic healing-jitsu and boom. All we had to do was get you here and do like, eight blood tranfusions- well, it was only four, but… well, anywizzle. The amulet smashed on the ground and dad locked away the pieces. So don’t go looking for them.” “My head still hurts, a bit. To answer your question.” “I’ll get more painkillers,” Leo said. He turned back just before he left, giving Don a small, concerned smile. It was probably meant to be encouraging. Leo was gone. The room was empty. So why could Donnie sense someone was there? Donnie sat up and looked around the room, “Ame…?” Donnie scoffed at himself, nothing but paranoia. He’d have to write down all his symptoms when he got his tech back. He breathed in and out, Ame was gone for good.

“I WOULDN’T SAY THAT.”

[mobydicks203-briancarew]

Building The Boat

It was springtime in the year 2022. It must’ve been early May or late April when my friend, Joe D’Aurio, called me after school one day to work for Rucks, better known as Nick Ruickoltd. We weren’t doing the regular yardwork or other small construction projects around his house as we had done before. Joe told me we were going to work at Ruck’s bar, and I just remember being like, what bar? I was very confused until we got there and saw Rucks and Evan Mink, another owner, and the permittee, on their knees with crowbars and hammers ripping up the flooring of what looked like an old run-down dump of a bar. 

After several long days of prying the wood paneling off the floor, bagging it up, and bringing it to the dump underneath revealed a layer of dark, musty green carpeting. This stuff was disgusting. When you finally peeled enough off, you could rip and pull to get a big piece of the carpet off, and when you did, you received a face full of dust, dirt, and whatever else had been on that floor for about 50 years. 

Fast forward about a week, and all the flooring was up. The floor was bare. It was just the baseboard. There was an issue right away which was not too surprising to me. The bottom of the bar was rotted in one area, and so were a couple of studs in the floor. Rucks, Joe, and I went to Home Depot to get the new pieces of wood. Once we got back, Joe and I unloaded the car while Rucks went inside to start removing the rotted wood with a hammer. After all the rot was gone, there was a huge hole behind the bar. The gap was roughly three feet long and went from the back wall to the bar. Joe took the Sawsaw and cut the 2x4s to the accurate measurements to newly support the floor. He then handed me the pieces so I could drill them into place. While doing all that, Rucks marked up the wood we were using for the baseboard and then tacked it into the pressure-treated studs. Since then, you can walk around without worrying about where you might step. 

The next few days, I didn’t do much besides clean up because Rucks had these two guys come in to do something to the floor. I couldn’t tell you what they were doing, but they had these two pretty big machines that had the similarities to resemble a snow blower and lawn mower mix. The two men were not around for long. They worked for two days, and that was it. I never saw them again. Rucks was happy with what they did, so I guess they knew what they were doing. 

After those guys, Rucks brought in Tony. Tony is rough around the edges but can joke around at times. Honestly, Joe and I would usually get so frustrated while working with Tony because he would make such a mess that could easily have been avoided, and Joe and I would get stuck having to clean it up after we finished helping him with the actual project. Overall we like him, and he knows what he is talking about. 

The first thing we did with Tony was tear down the kitchen area and bathroom. I vividly remember Rucks swinging a hammer at it and showing no progress, and then Tony walked in the back door after puffing a cigarette and had a whole wall down in what seemed like 15 seconds. With Tony, things did run quicker and more smoothly besides the mess afterwords or the number of screws and bits that were lost due to him just throwing everything everywhere. 

After the old walls were down completely, we started roughly framing the bathroom by using pieces of wood to see how big it would be. There is only one bathroom in Moby Dick’s, but it is pretty big. If you use the bathroom now, you will be reminded of a house bathroom. It is dark brown tile flooring with a single sink and toilet. There is a ledge with tissues, flowers, and other decor on top of it. I really like how the ledge turned out because it is mismatched with different pieces of wood with different colors. In my opinion, it looks neat and is creative yet simple. The bathroom stays clean too since they only have one bathroom the owners emphasized keeping it clean. 

As I may have perceived in the above paragraphs, the bathroom did not finish right away. There was a time when even I felt stressed, even though I have nothing to do with the outcome because Rucks could not find a plumber that could do the job in the time frame he wanted. I am pretty certain that it took a week of calling around to find someone. Rucks was even asking me if he thought my dad or uncle would be able to do it because they are plumbers. Ruck’s Dad finally found someone with the time and skill to do the job. I walked into the bar one day while the plumbers were working and I ended up knowing of the son because he goes to Platt Techincal Highschool in Milford, Ct. 

I liked doing the construction work because you get to see the progress day in and day out. Having a project that big also meant having something new every day or every couple of days. One day we would be polishing the portholes from the original Moby Dick’s that was there a long time ago after cutting into the walls for them to showcase the also original paintings of massive boats sailing the seas. The next day we would be fixing up the warped copper bar by using a mallet and this liquid spread that stiffened it and gave it a hard wax coating. 

Going back to the seeing the progress throughout the days, unfortunately, I was 

away at school for soccer preseason when they had their soft and grand opening, but I saw their success on Instagram and through family and friends. Over winter break I put in some shifts as a barback, and it was cool to see the place I contributed to in action and be a part of it on that side. In my short time working behind the bar, I made connections with many customers and employees. It truly provides a place to be a part of a community and enjoy yourself. 

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.

[kimnjss]

teach me | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: fluff 

⤑ rating: PG13.

⤑ word count: 5.6K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any, oop.

⤑ A/N: hello im here, lmao. this was supposed to be on time, but i slept for way longer than i planned... nd then i got lazy, so yeah. i hope you enjoy it, tho!! x

APRIL 26TH, 2020 | 11:18

The elevator doors close as she steps out, long dark hair tied nicely at the top of her head, the curled ends tickling the back of her satin top. The same short woman that had entered your house freely arms full of boxes of clothing Yoongi had bought for Hyunki. Her smile lights up her whole face, perfectly straight white teeth gleaming it almost pulls attention from the endearing dimple at the corner of her lips.

Waving widely when she spots you, lazily dressed in a pair of jeans that just so happened to be clean, a sweatshirt that you were sure belonged to Jungkook or Taehyung at one point. A complete contrast to her well put together attire, she probably had all the time in the world to match her shirt with her form-fitting skirts.

She's bending at the waist after acknowledging you with a sweet smile, now eye level with Hyunki who has not stopped scowling since you were unbuckling his car seat. It was safe to say, he wasn't in the best of moods.

With having to say goodbye to Joon last night and the fact he wanted pancakes for breakfast and you tried your hardest to make it the way 'Kookie-Hyung' did but failed. The fit he threw over that slowly dwindled into the silent treatment (something he was becoming very fond of). He didn't speak a word to you until you were taking him out of the car.

And that was only to tell you that he could walk on his own.

Now, though, with this strange woman in front of him; he's shifting closer to you. Tiny fist clutching at the fabric of your jeans. “Hi! You must be Hyunki?” She says brightly, reaching out for a handshake – like actually offering her hand out to a three-year-old. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

Hyunki eyes her palm for a moment, pondering what she expects him to do with it – no bout. Before he's dragging his eyes up to her face, realizing just how close she is to him. He takes a step back.

“We don't have to stand this close,” You detect the attitude in his voice and normally you'd be reminding him of his manners. Especially with people older than him. But the kid had a point, there was no reason for her to be in his face like that. 

Clearing her throat, slight embarrassment flashes through her eyes she stands. Straightening her shirt on her body. “I'm Jiso, by the way. Yn, right?” She tries, offering her hand out to you.

And you take it, pushing a smile onto your lips as you nod your head. “Where's Yoongi?” Lifting a bit on your tiptoes you peek over her shoulder as if he'd appear if you looked hard enough.

“Oh! He's on his way down. I just wanted to come say hi,” Her eyes shift back down to Hyunki, to find he's become fascinated with one of the toys he managed to smuggle out of the house. “They look so much alike,” Jiso seems in awe by her own words, by the fact a son could actually look like his father.

This time you're actually rolling your eyes, out of habit. It's subtle and automatic and if she notices it she doesn't say anything. The moment grows stale, awkward. She's shifting on her feet, looking between you and Hyunki with that smile on her face and you're considering scooping him up and going to wait for Yoongi in the car.

As if he had sensed your distress, Yoongi is stepping off the elevator with a hustle. The corners of his lips lifting until he's full-blown grinning as his eyes shift from you to Hyunki who has cracked his first smile since this morning.

“What's up, buddy?” Without a moment of hesitation, Yoongi is crouching down and lifting Hyunki off of the ground. He's curling into his side instantly, head falling on his shoulder as his eyes flutter closed. “Did he not sleep well last night?” His words directed to you, while Jiso stands on the sidelines – listening.

“He's in a bad mood. Joon left last night and he had a hard morning.” You don't miss the way his head lifts at the mention of Namjoon, on high alert now. Fully tapped into the conversation.

Quickly, you go over the 'need knows' for the day. The schedule Hyunki's on and certain things that calm him down. Signs that he's anxious or upset. Ways to avoid a meltdown. Yoongi nods along, taking the information you're giving him all while bouncing Hyunki on his side.

Jiso watching with hearts in her eyes the entire time. You're positive the girl hasn't blinked since Yoongi was stepping off the elevator. “Daddy's gonna get you something yummy for lunch, how does that sound?” Yoongi speaks softly to the little boy in his arms, who only nods – not pulling his attention from his toy.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” He turns his head only for a moment to grant you a nod. “Don't worry too much, okay?” There's teasing in his tone and it's obvious he's noticed your reluctance.

Not that you had any problem leaving Hyunki with him, of course not – Yoongi was his dad and you wanted them to spend as much time together as they possibly could. You just knew how Hyunki was when he was grumpy, not wanting things to get out of hand where Yoongi was overwhelmed.

Yoongi overwhelmed was much like Hyunki grumpy. A mess.

Poking a gentle finger at his shoulder to let him know you mean business, “Call me.” You repeat. Turning your attention to Hyunki, your hand gently grasping his cheeks to pucker his lips. There's smile in his eyes despite the way he tries to fight it, still mad at you.

Standing this close, Yoongi can't help but admire you. The gentle slope of your nose, long lashes that dust over the tops of your cheeks. Cheeks bones that seem much more defined than he remembered. Jaw much more angled. Grown-up.

“I love you. I love you. And I love you.” A baby kiss sealing each confession that has your son grinning at the end of it. “You're gonna listen to daddy today, right? Who's the boss?”

Reluctant to say it, he rolls his big eyes before huffing out, “Mister Yoobi.” Had rehearsed it all of yesterday when you were first telling him that he'd be spending all day today with Yoongi.

“Good boy. Stay with daddy. And I'll come get you later?” He's nodding his head with a small smile, cheek finding Yoongi's shoulder as you lean down to press a kiss to his soft cheek. A tiny wave bye, before you're turning to leave – only to be stopped by the grasp on your elbow.

Yoongi gently dragging you back and he's got that look on his face. One that you're all too familiar with, could point it out in a lineup. The glint in his eye, the smirk on his lips. “Does daddy get a kiss too?” Voice gruff, words mumbled only for you.

Despite the rapid heating up of your cheeks, your eyes roll. “No,” Easily wiggling from his grasp before you're turning your attention back to Hyunki. “Goodbye. I love you.” You repeat with a grin, pressing a kiss to his forehead before stepping back.

He watches you until you're ducking into your car, rolling the window down to wave obnoxiously before driving off.

“Mommy should give Daddy kisses too, don't you think, Hyunki?” Yoongi's asking while handing over his son's backpack to Jiso, who had patiently been waiting for the couple moment to be over.

With a shrug of his shoulder, Hyunki continues fooling around with the toy in his hand. “She probably ran out.” The deadpan tone of his voice, a less mature version of the voice Yoongi uses when he's not interested in something. Like to the T.

“She can give me kisses and you kisses, Hyunki. They're different kisses, so she should have enough.” Now joined by his two bodyguards, Yoongi heads toward the back doors with his son in his arms.

Hyunki lets out a huff, pausing for a moment to eye the men that are now following him and his dad. He recognizes them as the ones who brought his gifts, so he's turning his attention back to Yoongi. “Mommy can give me kisses, duh. And Joonie too. So not enough.”

A stutter in his steps and a sideways glance to his son. Surprise written on his features, not expecting the familiar matter-of-fact tone to come out of such a small little human. Yoongi can't fight the laugh that falls from his lips, eyes rolling at his son's words.

“What do you want to eat?”

Hyunki is perking up instantly, eyes going wide. “Cheesecake!” He shouts with a raise of his little arms. With a laugh, Yoongi is nodding and securing him into his brand new car seat before sliding in the back beside him.

A bodyguard blocking Hyunki from the window and the other sat in the front seat. Leaning back against his seat, with his arms crossed over his chest, Yoongi gets comfortable as his driver pulls out of the parking space.

“Cheesecake Factory.” He directs, the smile on his face growing as Hyunki happily claps his hands.

APRIL 26TH, 2020 | 13:02

That kid could eat. Yoongi is deciding with a smirk on his face as Hyunki finishes his second slice of cheesecake. Of course, that wasn't the only thing he ate. Much to Hyunki's annoyance, he was told to order some real food before dessert. 

He softened at the sight of the chicken tenders being placed in front of him, a large helping a fries set beside it. Digging in with a loud 'Thank you!' and the biggest of smiles on his face.

They're able to fall into easy conversation, Hyunki going on about what happened at the zoo, and how he never knew penguins were that huge. Laughing loudly when he talked about the way Taetae tried to talk to a tiger and how Kookie-Hyung got scared by a bear.

Yoongi listened the entire time, simply enjoying the sight of his son so excited to share. The stories continue throughout the car ride home, short stretches of silence falling among them before Hyunki is perking up.

“Did you know giraffes talk with their butts? Their mouths don't work or something.” He says as Yoongi straps him in his seat, reaching his hand to ruffle his hair before getting in beside him.

It's a moment before they start driving a quick exchange between Yoongi in the driver. Which lasted too long for Hyunki who is still waiting for an answer to his question. His small hand reaches out to gently tug on his sleeve to pull his attention.

“Dad, you have to listen because you don't know.” Yoongi's eyes are going wide at the name. But Hyunki is going on without missing a beat. Repeating his fun fact as normal. Then spewing ten more in the same breath.

Yet, Yoongi can't bring himself to focus. To take in the new information that he probably won't end up using anyway. The only thing he can hear is his son calling him 'Daddy' for the first time, making all of this so real. Min Hyunki. His little boy. His son. Trying to get his attention, wanting his attention while he speaks.

Warmth spreads throughout Yoongi's body as a smile breaks onto his features. Dad. He liked the sound of that. Who he was, who wanted to be. He was 'Dad' now.

“Are you even listening, Mister Yoobi?” Hyunki speaks as the car is being parked and he's realizing none of his fun facts have gotten a reaction. Back to 'Mister Yoobi' so fast, it must've been a fluke. Fantastic.

With a huff, Yoongi is shaking his head. “Sorry, buddy. My head was somewhere else. Tell me one more time.” Hyunki doesn't hesitate to restart his story, allowing Yoongi to pull him from his car seat, carrying him on his side as they enter the building.

This time, Yoongi is tuned into what his son is saying. Fascinated by how much he knows about animals, and wildlife, and just life and general. A lot more than an average three year old would know he's sure.

“Is that your favorite animal?” He asks as Hyunki finishes saying how Koala's sniff their leaves to know which is the tastiest. He nods with a wide smile, cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder. “I love them, they sleep so long too.”

Yoongi carries his son the entire way to his studio, setting him down once they've reached the door. Jimin had texted just twenty minutes before about how he, Jin, and Hobi had just arrived. Behind the door, ready to meet Hyunki.

Carefully advised by you, Yoongi takes to preparing him for what awaits on the other side of the door. In hopes to prevent any disastrous incident. The steps you laid out for him, echoing in his mind as he speaks – not wanting to mess anything up.

“Are you having fun with Daddy so far?” He asks, genuinely curious but also serving as a reminder for Hyunki. He nods quickly, smiling wide up at him. “I had two slices of cheesecake!” He grins as if Yoongi hadn't been there to watch the kid inhale them.

“You did. Daddy has some friends that want to meet you. Only three of them,” He holds up his hand to show three fingers. “Daddy likes them a lot. Do you think you want to say 'Hi'?”

Hyunki's nose is scrunching at the mention of new people. A concept he's not all too fond of. He liked the people that he knew and didn't understand why his Mommy and now his Daddy was always adding someone new.

Saying 'Hi' won't hurt, though, right? He didn't want to be rude because he knew that Mommy wouldn't like that. She always said it was good to greet people when they want to meet you. So, just saying hi is fine.

Slowly, he's nodding his head. Causing a smile to spread over Yoongi's lips. “Great. If you don't like them, you tell me. I'll kick them out.” There's laughter in his voice, but Hyunki takes his joke seriously. Mister Yoobi was on his side if these new friends were too scary for him.

Quickly typing in the code to open the door with one hand, Yoongi holds onto his son's hand with the other. The light beeps green before the door is pushing open, revealing his studio.

The size of a one bedroom apartment, complete with instruments, monitors, soundboards, a recording booth tucked in the corner. A shower across from that which held a few of his clothes for the nights he spent in here. Fridge fully stocked with drinks and snacks for those nights as well, neatly placed by the large L-shaped couch pushed against the wall.

A lot of his time was spent in this room, so he wanted to make it as homey as possible. His friend's appreciated that too.

Hobi sat upright on the couch, scrolling through his phone with one hand while he toyed with Jin's hair with the other. Head rested on his thigh as he chatted with Jimin across the room who was playing a computer game, only half-listening to the words coming from his elder's mouth.

The sound of the door slamming shut is catching Jimin's attention before anyone, his head turning toward the sound. “Is that him?” He rushes, eyes wide as he scrambles to his feet.

Hyunki is quick to shuffle behind Yoongi's leg, hands grasping his pant leg just as he had done with his mother earlier. Jimin puts a slow to his steps noticing the kid's actions, pushing an easy smile on his face.

“He's a bit shy,” Yoongi explains, bending to pick his son off of the floor. Holding him to his side. “Look, buddy, see. These are my friends. That's Park Jimin, Jin, and Hobi.” Pointing as he introduces them.

The small boy stares at Jimin from his comfortable position in his dad's arms. Studying the man that stands before him, from his pink hair to his black boots. Then all of a sudden, he's pushing his hand out, smiling big. “I'm Hyunki!”

Jimin laughs, stepping forward to take the small hand into his. He shakes it, watching the way Hyunki's smile grows until it's a spitting image of his dad's gummy smile. “Absolute insanity.” He says with a shake of his head, dropping the little boy's hand before lifting his to ruffle his hair.

“You look exactly like your daddy.”

Hyunki's head is whipping to the side, studying the features of his father's face for a moment before he's turning his attention back to Jimin. “Thank you.” He says with a nod of his head, wiggling as a signal to be let down.

Yoongi does just that, setting him on his feet as he walks further into the room. “How's hanging out with him without Yn?” Speaking in a bit of a whisper, Jimin steps closer to Yoongi to deliver his words.

“It's actually been alright, we went to eat and-,” Yoongi fills his friend in on his time with his son while Hyunki takes deliberate steps across the room. Stopping in front of the couch where Hobi and Jin sit.

Hands propped on his hips, he stares the two of them down. Jin is staring right back with a squint, determined to win this unspoken staring contest while Hobi watches on amused.

“What's up, baby Yoongi?” Hobi is breaking the silent exchange after a few moments pass. Hyunki's eyes shifting from Jin up to Hobi. “Shit, he looks exactly like you. Fucking insane.” Words delivered to Yoongi with wide eyes.

Lowering himself at his computer desk, Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Don't curse in front of the kid. Yn will chop my shit.” Never a blatant discussion had between the two of you, but he figured it was safe to assume that you didn't want your kid with a trucker's mouth.

“You're bad at this,” Jin speaks with a laugh, sitting up from his seat as he offers Hyunki a high-five. He's quickly slapping his hand onto his, a large smile breaking onto his features.

Hyunki is back to exploring the room in an instant, slowly becoming comfortable with his surroundings. His daddy's friends were a lot different than the too big smiling people that he sometimes met when he was out with his Mommy.

They always got too close, voice raising too high when they talked to him. Daddy's friends were different. Calmer. Hyunki liked that. Able to relax like he is when he's with Taetae or Kookie-Hyung, and even Joonie now.

His eyes are widening at the side of the familiar instrument in the corner of his room. Tiny feet carrying him as he rushes to it. “Mister Yoobi, you didn't say you had a pinado!?” He's grinning as he looks back to where Yoongi is sitting.

“Yeah. You want to look at it?” Yoongi is standing long before Hyunki is nodding his head. Making his way out to him and easily lifting him onto the piano bench while scooting beside him.

As soon as he's lifting the cover, Hyunki's fingers are reaching for the keys. His back is straightening and as soon as his fingers begin to move a melodic rhythm fills the studio. It isn't super complex, just a few notes repeating over and over but Yoongi is in awe at the sight of his son effortlessly playing the piano right before his eyes.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Yoongi is asking just as Hyunki finishes his first melody and starting a new one.

With his eyes focused on his fingers, he shrugs a shoulder. “Taetae showed me. But it's easy.” Of course, it'd be easy, do you know who your dad is? The response is fresh on Yoongi's tongue, but he doesn't say anything.

To enthralled at the pure talent of his son. Three years old, able to make a tune. Fingers barely able to reach the flat keys, but he manages with slight effort. He can recognize the song as a nursery rhyme but altered with an original twist. Genius.

“Here, let daddy show you something.” Yoongi is reaching for his son with easy, lifting him from his part of the bench and setting him onto his lap. He brings his own hands to the keys, playing the beginning notes of one of his songs. The last song on his latest album.

Hyunki's eyes are wide as he watches the movement of his dad's finger. An actual song, he can tell. “Did Taetae teach you too?” He's asking, twisting his body so he can get a good look at his face.

A soft laugh lights his features as he shakes his head. “Nope. Daddy taught himself.” The littlest of gasps is leaving Hyunki's lips as he turns to face the keys again. Hands lifting to cover his father's before he's tilting his head back to look at him.

“Teach me too, then.” 

APRIL 26TH, 2020 | 19:23

As the hours ticked on, Hyunki became more and more comfortable with Yoongi and his friends. He went from playing the piano (halfway learning one of Yoongi's songs) to watching videos on Jimin's phone.

As someone who doesn't usually let anyone touch their phone, Jimin was oddly quick to offer up the device when Hyunki he was complaining that he was bored. Cueing up video after video, with the sole purpose of making the young boy laugh.

From there he was moving on to show off his toy to Hoseok, pulling it apart and quickly putting it back together while he oohed and awed at the display. The two of them were quickly falling into a game of imagine, Hobi making sound effects as they went along.

And before long he was settling beside Jin on the couch, leaning on him as the adults discussed where they'd go for dinner. It had only been one minute since Hyunki whined about being hungry, the snacks that were given to him not cutting it anymore.

“What about you, Mister Hyun? What do you want to eat?” Hyunki perks up at the new attention, finger tapping against his chin as he thinks about the options that he could possibly have.

He doesn't think for long, seeming to have what he wanted picked out before he was even brought into the conversation. “Pizza!” He shouts with a clap of his hands, eyes lifting to find Yoongi who seems to be contemplating the suggestion. “Pizza, Mister Yoobi?” A slight pout taking over his features, brows turned in.

Jimin finds a pizza place pretty quickly on his phone and it's not long before the five of them are filing out of the business and into the cars.

Hours have passed since then. While they were out, Yoongi was struck with a certain bit of inspiration. All the new feelings of spending time with his kid, hanging out with his friends, things finally seeming a bit more clear with you... he's giddy to get back to the studio to work.

“Can Park take me out for ice cream?” Hyunki is asking with the sweetest of smiles, Jimin a few steps behind him flashing a matching convincing grin. Yoongi is nodding his head instantly, laughing at the loud 'Yay!' that leaves both of their lips before they're turning to leave the room – Jin and Hoseok trailing behind them.

Yoongi's sat at his desk when you arrive, your sharp knock pulling him from his musical world. He's pulling the door open a few moments later, his lips lifting into the smile once he's seeing you.

Dressed differently from this morning. Instead of the comfy clothes you had dropped Hyunki off in, you're wearing a dress. One that hugs your body nicely, but still casual enough to be worn with sneakers. And that's not it, you've put on makeup. The whole ordeal, from lashes to lipstick.

And he's seriously fighting the urge to kiss you. Fuck, how long it's been since he's kissed you.

Leaning forward, you poke your head into the booth, searching its emptiness just like you had done in the first room. Turning, your brows furrow as you look up at your ex. “Where's Hyunki?”

“The guys took him out for ice cream.”

You're nodding at his words, lowering yourself onto the couch across from him. The same couch for some reason kept up in the time that passed but still old. It was the only thing you recognized about the studio. His higher status in the company granting him with all these new perks, it seemed.

“You didn't want to go?” Yoongi's settling into the seat across from you at his desk. “I wanted to wait for you.” There's obvious sweetness in his tone and you can't deny the easy effect he has on you.

Even when he's saying something as simple as that. Something so plain. Of course, he'd wait for you, he knew you were on your way. So duh, he'd want to wait for you. That didn't stop the flutter in your heart, though.

“What did you guys do today?” This was weird. Filling the silence with small talk. Footing not quite right between the two of you, still figuring things out between each other. You wanted to focus to be on Hyunki and Hyunki alone, but that didn't take away from the fact of how badly he wanted to touch you.

And not even in the sexual sense. Well, yes in the sexual sense – but that wasn't it. He missed being able to hold your hand, play with your face, wrap his arms around your waist. He just missed you. Even now when you were sitting right in front of him. He still missed you.

But like you said, for Hyunki's sake. “A lot. Took him for lunch and dinner. Hung out around here. I taught him how to play a song on the piano.” The smile that takes over your features sets a stutter in Yoongi's heart.

But he ignores it.

“He's getting real good at that.” Of all the times you found him practicing with Taehyung. Adamant to get every last key correct, annoyed each time he'd mess up, starting over from the top every single time. Just like his dad.

You'd be a fool to say you didn't wish things turned out differently. That you had never left and the two of you could've raised Hyunki together. It was crazy how similar the two of them were and they didn't even know each other.

Imagine if they had. How special that would be.

“You want to hear something I've been working on?” He speaks to fill the silence and you're instantly perking up – nodding your head. One of your favorite things was to hear his unfinished work, he'd always ask you for your opinion and it made you feel that much more connected to him when he was taking your advice.

It's natural, how fast you stand as he's scooting back from the computer desk. Don't even think as you're lowering yourself into his lap before he has the chance to get up for you to sit. Something he had entirely planned on doing.

As soon as your bum is settled on his thigh, you're realizing your mistake. Eyes going wide, but you don't move. You're committed at this point so you're acting as if your heart didn't just enter a hundred-yard sprint and leaning back against his chest.

“Show me.”

Yoongi's hesitant at first. Not sure if he should move or move you, but at the same time not wanting to do anything about it. He finds comfort in having you this close. The smell of your sweet shampoo tickling his nostrils. You haven't changed it. You didn't seem to have a problem with this, so why should he? Right?

Why should he? So he's lifting his arm to wrap around your waist with swiftness, pulling your body tighter against his as he reaches for the headphones that lay on his desk. He's securing them on your head with one hand, not willing to unwrap his arm from around you to use both.

“It's only half-finished, but be honest.”

There aren't any words. But you can already tell it's much different from the type of music he's usually putting out. Brighter. Instead of the heavy notes he usually uses, this one sounds more fun? 

Something that could potentially be sung along to. Was he planning on singing? The beat shifts and you assume that's where the chorus would be. More bass is added to the sound. Was he going to dance too?

This was so different, but you liked it. Like a lot. Excited to see what he'd do with this since the poppy tune was so unlike him. The beat slows toward the end and even though he isn't listening, he's perking up when it's fading out.

Watching you expectantly, almost nervously as he waits for your input. He too noticed the different approach he had when creating this beat. Determined to try something new, detached from the last two albums he released. Something to stand on his own, that would make fans go: Oh, he can do that too?

“It's really good.” You say first to ease his worries. “Like scary good, you know? It's not what you expect when you turn on Agust D... but I don't know? I like it.” The corners of his lips lift at your praise, you could literally see the nervousness melting away.

It's only gone for a moment before worry is striking his brow again. Teeth tugging at his lower lip gently. “You're not just saying that, right? You think people will like it?” You can't help the smile that breaks onto your features at his words, hand instantly reaching forward to grasp his chin.

Like you've done a million times before. Something you'd began to do to Hyunki too when he was feeling some type of way. Yoongi's lips pucker from the push of your hand, eyes widening as you lean in – almost certain that you're going to kiss him. But you don't, well not exactly. Your lips are finding his forehead, landing two short kisses to his skin.

“You're so serious.” You mumble, not thinking much of it.

If this were three years ago, it wouldn't be a big deal. Sort of your catch phrase when he was stressing himself out about things he didn't have to worry about. Things that were out of his control. It's only after you're seeing the way he's looking at you do you realize it's not three years ago.

Ready to throw caution to the wind, not a care in the world. Just you. In his arms, putting his lips on him. He didn't care where. After so long without your touch, he'd settle for anything at this point.

Obviously too comfortable in this space, on his lap, things started to feel familiar and you acted out of turn. Inappropriate. You were the one that asked not to pursue anything, so what were you doing?

An apology fresh on your tongue, as you pull your body from his grasp. Ready to assure him that you were caught up and that that... that was just a slight relapse. The words don't leave your lips, though – because the door is bursting open and loud laughter is instantly filling the room.

“Mommy! You came back for me!” Hyunki is yelling over the ruckus, climbing out of Jin's grasp and bolting in your direction.

A forced laugh leaves your lips, the awkward tension taking a while longer to dissipate, you lower yourself to scoop Hyunki off of the floor. “Of course, I'd come back for you, baby. Did you have fun with daddy, today?”

“I had two slices of cheesecake and ice cream!” The amount of sweets not something you'd usually root for, but you hold back on chastises either of them. Still stunned from how you acted, how you almost acted.

“That's good, baby. I'm so happy for you. Why don't you give daddy hugs, we gotta go get ready for bed.” Hyunki's nodding at your words, climbing from your arms to Yoongi's outstretched ones.

He sets his cheek on his chest, small arms wrapping around him as he squeezes. Yoongi's slow at lifting his arms, holding his kid close once he finally does. “I'll see you tomorrow, okay, buddy?”

Hyunki nods with a smile, turning his attention to the boys that have sprawled around the room. “You guys can come see me tomorrow too!” He shouts and much to your surprise, Jimin is the first to agree.

Taking his time to say goodbye to everyone and you wait patiently until he's saying he's ready to go. He's leading you out of the room as if he owns the place. As if he's been there a million times and you're the one that needs the guide.

Yoongi watches as you go, a measly smile offered in his direction before you're turning the corner. Despite not being able to see you anymore, he didn't look away. Still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

You had kissed him. On the forehead, yeah. Seemed like a high-five in comparison to all you've done before. But it was something. Something after nothing in years. And now he was determined. More ready than before to fix things with you.

More than ready to be a family.

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

⟲ masterlist ⟳

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

[vendettasfanfictioning]

buckynat | your name au.

Natasha woke up one morning, and there was music playing. 40′s music, it sounded like, which did not make sense considering how she did not even have any music saved, modern or otherwise. She bolted up, hand swiping for the gun under her pillow that wasn’t there. Her knives weren’t in the other pillow- in fact, there wasn’t another pillow at all. Her bed was narrow, evidently not the one she slept in last night. Something heavy was set in the air, and no airconditioner to keep her cool. The room was small, made of wood. Dust hung in the air, visible with the sunlight peeking through locked windows.

It wasn’t a bedroom, this wasn’t a bed, let alone hers. She woke up to someone’s old, humbly furnished living room, in a tangle of sheets and pillow on the floor. “Buck?” a voice called, small, scared. Natasha turned to the side, and met Steve. Only it wasn’t her Steve- the revered Captain America, super soldier and resident grandpa. This Steve was almost half the size and twice the gentleness. “Buck, you alright?”

Natasha swallowed the urge to repeat the question, to ask why Steve was calling her by his dead best friend’s name, because nothing was normal and the best cover was the one presented to her. Natasha nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” Her voice resonated deeper, sounded gruff in her ears, but she chose to ignore that for now. “Nightmare.” She said instead.

“Right.” Said little Steve. “I’ll be going out. Do you want anything for breakfast?”

Natasha shook her head, made a move to lie down and bury her head in the frankly foul-smelling sheets. “I’ll try to get some more sleep, you go ahead.” She heard the door close. She let herself hope, for once. She hoped this was just a stupidly vivid nightmare.

Bucky woke up one morning that wasn’t morning. It was actually noon, his favorite time to wake up nowadays since his leave. He did his usual routine when in Steve’s house. Fold up the sheets he used as a bed, put on the clothes he’s been recycling in the past few days, look for Steve or for the food he’d gotten.

There was breakfast on the table, along with one of Steve’s old sketchbooks that Bucky remembered buying for him, a few years back. “Buck?” Speak of the devil. “Buck, is that you?”

“No, Stevie, I’m actually James’ long lost twin.” He yelled, taking a load of bread and stuffing it in his mouth. “James doesn’t mention me much, he knows I’m better than him in every way possible.” Bucky turned dramatically, finding Steve perched by the door. He was frowning, shoulders hunched like he was preparing for Bucky to do something. Bucky’s cheer died, and he took the food from his mouth to ask, “why the long face?”

“Do you not remember any of the things you did yesterday?” From the look of things, it was a serious question. Bucky hummed, wracking his brain for the answer. “I- we went out for dinner, and you got in a fight with someone because he was catcalling the nice waitress?”

Steve’s expression crumbled. He went from agitated to afraid real quick. “Buck, that was the day before yesterday.” He said. “Yesterday, you acted all shut in and quiet, and you didn’t even leave the house! I don’t think you ate at all, and you asked me these questions that you should’ve known already and-”

“Woah, calm down.” Bucky approached slowly, as if taming a fussy cat, but he was worried all the same. “And I what? That last part sounded important.”

“Just- just read that.” Steve pointed towards the table. Bucky nodded, picked up the sketchbook and opened it to the first page. He half-expected a drawing, something rougher and shakier than Steve’s current style today, but instead he was met with scribbles. A penmanship he wasn’t familiar with, erring out of the typical cursive that everyone preferred to use for letters, but it was written like a letter all the same.

Dear Bucky,

Today’s date is April 21, 1936-

“Steve, what’s the date today?”

“April 22, 1936.”

-and if my guess is correct, I was you for the day. My name is Natasha Romanoff, I am from the future of sorts. Maybe we switched bodies, or maybe this was just a dream, but if I figured, if it was just a dream then me writing this would only be wasted effort, while me missing the chance to communicate would be a wasted opportunity. You could say I took the opportunity.

If we switch again, look for Steve. He’s there too, in the future, because of circumstances I can’t tell you, but just know that he’ll be there to help. Don’t let yourself be caught by anyone. My body’s pretty wanted by a lot of people, and not in a sense that your old, traditional self would approve.

If you can, leave me notes as well on how to act and live like you for the day. Steve’s most likely spooked out, because I don’t know much about you apart from the ones I read on the Smiths history books and I may have been a bit out-of-character, but the Steve from my time will probably be more understanding of our situation.

I don’t know how to sign off letters. Hell, I haven’t written anything by hand in a while, so... Best wishes I suppose, best wishes that this is all either some stupid joke or some stupid nightmare. If not, if this happens again, then we’ve got to establish a system. We both live very dangerous live, James, we can’t let whatever’s happening get us.

I really hope this is just a dream, I’d rather not let anyone know how terrible my handwriting is.

Sincerely,

   Natasha.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 1

Thank you to the client for commissioning me! This is gonna be a long one! I love Joker and Persona 5 is my second favorite fandom after Danganronpa! Exctied to be working on this.

Around 2.6k words, SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader! - Admin Myah

Shujin Academy could be silent as the grave in the earliest hours of the morning, and yet seem so deafening. It was almost guaranteed that at least thirty new rumors were spreading throughout the student body at any given time, and the overwhelmingly hostile environment that created made the air heavy. With all the teenage angst, hormones, hatred, circles of venomous malice, it was no wonder so many loners could be spotted on academy grounds. That’s just how it was at Shujin: you either had a clique, or you had no one. It was no surprise, then, that you simply kept your head down, minded your business, and got to know no one. Miraculously, though, gossip abound about you still, at least two or three preposterous examples of hearsay and stories. But hey, what could you do? That was in all actuality, pretty low for a single Shujin student. God help the students who actually did make their opinions known, express themselves through clothing and cosmetics, and dared to swim against the current.

You shuffled through the first floor, the absolute blandness of that April morning perpetuating your usual routine: arrive at Shujin, check your locker, scribble down any notes and ideas that came to you in your dreams last night to put into your next short story, and of course check for new posts in the group chat, where your only friends resided. You wouldn’t be caught dead associating with anyone here at the school, it would simply be mental and social suicide, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the constitution for that.

Peeking up for a split second to avoid any collisions, you quickly slid to the left and ducked into a nearby alcove, successfully escaping the gaze of the oncoming wall of muscle and testosterone that was Coach Kamoshida, the plague of Shujin Academy. It was the best case scenario that Kamoshida remained ignorant to one’s very existence, for even those on his good side suffered the consequences. He strode by, shoulders wide and chest puffed out, scanning the halls for girls to harass or boys to intimidate, and once the coast was clear and he was a safe distance away, his back facing you, you dipped back out of the rather dusty corridor and back into the light, immediately slipping back into an almost mechanical daily ritual. It took mere seconds: phone screen unlocked, group chat opened, notebook slipped snuggly back under armpit.

“C’mon, man!” An obnoxiously loud voice rang out above the typical tinnitus-like buzz of the hallway, and suddenly your shoulder was thrust forward, body flying to the ground with a forceful shove on the shoulder.

“Aaagh!” Your voice cracked as your knees buckled and you collided roughly with the wooden panels below, your smartphone soaring out of your grip and clinking against the floor. Thank goodness your notebook was safe, at the very least. People gasped and turned to look at the spectacle, including Kamoshida himself, who’d just reached the end of the hall.

“Sakamoto! I see you running in the halls again, I’ll write you up!” He just always had to say something, let the general student body know he was in charge. He cared far more about sounding rough and tough than making sure the student who was just steam-rolled was uninjured. He pointed directly at you and the student that had just dashed by, effectively pummeling you to the ground with a shoulder check. You looked up and just ahead of you, Ryuji Sakamoto was pivoting on one foot, ignoring Kamoshida’s threat entirely to catch his breath and look down at his victim, splayed across the floor.

Ryuji Sakamoto, now that was one of those students mentioned earlier, the kind that dyed his hair, customized his uniform, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He was a pariah, pretty much the opposite of the teacher’s pet… teacher’s pest more like. Sakamoto was the subject of many falsehoods and conjectures, and he was sure to be trouble for anyone associated…

You looked him up and down, halting your unflattering and socially-altered thoughts in their tracks. Didn’t wanna become the very thing you hated. There was no reason to judge Ryuji without first-hand proof.

“Woah! My bad, sorry dude!” He held up one hand submissively, but unfortunately, just as with Kamoshida,  it seemed that you were not his main concern either. Huffing and puffing from the sprint, he looked past you to another male student who was hot on his trail, but this one looked… different.

You’d gone to Shujin Academy for all of your high-school career. It was your third and final year before graduation, and you knew of Sakamoto well enough, but this kid was a mystery… was he new here? He must’ve been. You knew at least the face of every student here in some way or another just through Shujin’s own little eternal game of telephone, and not by any choice of your own. You actively removed yourself from the local goings-on. Was it his first day here, you wondered. Why hadn’t you heard gossip about him yet, especially looking the way he did?

Beauty was a curse - much like any other feature that stood out - at Shujin Academy. If you were too pretty or handsome, you must be sexually promiscuous. On the other hand, if you were too ugly, too nerdy, too quiet, you probably picked your nose and read hentai on the train. There was no winning in this soul-crushing wasteland. Unfortunately for this new-comer, he was outrageously gorgeous.

“Gah, sorry about that…” he sighed, slowing his pace as he passed you by, plucking your phone up from the ground and offering you his hand. You took it and stood with his help. A quick tug and you were to your feet, dusting off your uniform and thanking him for his assistance. “Yeah, no problem… Ryuji’s just… a bit eager I suppose” he chuckled. “Luckily, no cracks!” He turned your phone around in his hand before placing it back into yours.

“Isn’t that the transfer student??? I heard he nearly killed a man!” One random NPC-esque shithead whispered from behind.

“Oh God, figures that freak would gravitate to the new freak…” another responded.

Ah…  and there it was. Why did fate hate you so much that it chose you as Sakamoto’s door mat on this day? You truly must have been fortune’s fool.

“Yeah, good thing…” You eyed the boy before you, taking in what you could of the new student before the short exchange was over, from his face to the delicate yet thick veins protruding from his lithe hands.

He was tall and thin, and would even be considered lanky if not for the lean muscle that lined his frame. He seemed to be better off than the average teen, sporting almost no blemishes or imperfections on his smooth skin. A black, messy mop of hair that looked soft to the touch sat upon his head, falling into his eyes and over the dark frames of his distinct spectacles. These spectacles did nothing to hide the true elegance that gleamed in the eyes behind them. They were a muted, soft grey that was beautifully simple and clean. His uniform was neat and tidy - as opposed to his blonde and brash acquaintance’s - with his pristine white turtleneck gently blanketing a quite prominent Adam’s apple and his school jacket buttoned and ironed perfectly. Lower down, his plaid slacks concealed thighs that strained against the fabric and long legs that ran down into some very - yet again - flawless dress shoes. Yep, that was a brand new uniform, sure enough.

And a brand new student… he just might make a good subject, a new inspiration for your writing, an aura unmarred by the stain this place put on one’s soul. Your opinion of him was fresh, it was new, unaltered, unbiased, and he really was quite beautiful… your mind played with the thought.

“Ah… sorry about this,” he spoke, taking in the whispers all around you, “I probably just ruined your reputation, what with being seen with me an’ all,” he sighed and laughed breathily, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He must’ve been keen to the ways of Shujin already, which was super sad in its own right. “I’m Akira by the way,” he held out a hand, and you shook it hesitantly.

“Eh, doesn’t really bother me. It’s (Y/N), nice to meet you. Sorry you’re feeling the Shujin warm welcome.” That first part was only partly true, but the last half was genuine.

“Anyway…” his voice shook you back out of your contemplative reverie, and you came back to reality to find him also looking you over. Oh right… you were new to him as well… “I gotta go, Ryuji is kind of impatient, I’ve found.”

“Hey! Am not!” Ryuji retorted, brows furrowing before he ran off. Akira’s eyes rolled playfully, before he smiled, waved, and sped off.

You nodded, and quickly pulled out your phone, rushing to the glass doors leading to the courtyard. Anything to get out of the spotlight and harsh crowd of stares, plus, you had a sparkling new idea filling up your cranium, and artistic inspiration could not be wasted. Finding one of the benches placed for student recreation, you set down your school bag and impatiently scrambled for your favorite pen, throwing open your notebook.

“Oh, shoot!” You’d gotten ahead of yourself in all the excitement. Placing the moleskin down, you picked up your phone, hands trembling just a bit, and messaged you friends before anything else. They just had to hear about this.

 ＊

 (Y/N) 9:55 am: Guys guys guys!!!

 Itsuki 9:56 am: What do you want?

 Rin 9:56 am: ???

 Megumi 9:57 am: Shouldn’t you be in class?

 (Y/N) 9:57 am: Shut up I have a free period just listen

You know how I’ve been having writer’s block?

 Rin 9:58 am: Ya

 (Y/N) 9:58 am: Well I just met this new kid, and ideas just started FLOWING.

 Itsuki 9:59 am: Yeah

 Megumi 9:59 am: Yeah we remember nerd

Oh that’s great!

Wait what do you mean?

New kid?

Only we can have you 😭 Don’ go switching up on us. Shujin is

toxic anyway.

 (Y/N) 10:01 am: No no no It’s not like we’re friends, I just met him is all

You know you’re my one and only bby 😘

 Itsuki 10:01 am: New kid???

 Megumi 10:01 am: 😎

 Itsuki 10:02 am: Gross

Also what about me!!!!

 Rin 10:02 am: Me too 😡😡😡

 (Y/N) 10:03 am: You two know you’re included in that???? 🤔🙄

Anyway just listen

I think he may be good inspo for my main character!!!

I was stuck looking for a unique look or face claim or something

But he seems nice enough and he’s good looking!

 Itsuki 10:05 am: You got a crush? Awww I’m telling 😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:05 am: I swear it’s like we haven’t been friends for years…

You know me, PLEASE don’t be gross

Writing purposes ONLY

 Megumi 10:06 am: I thought you were stuck on the CONTENT, not characters and shit

 (Y/N) 10:06 am: Both!!!! But he’s perfect for the look of my protag

 Itsuki 10:06 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Megumi 10:07 am: Well I’m happy for you

STOP

 Itsuki 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Rin 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:08 am: I can see this conversation isn’t going to be productive 

LMAO you’re assholes

＊

 You tucked your phone into your pocket and once again picked up your notebook. Scrawling down some of the details you knew about Akria: his looks, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself, you quickly became aware that you knew far too little… or rather

 You wanted to know more.

 Standing, you packed your things and set out to find him again…

 Not in the creepy way! You thought to yourself, trying to justify this uncharacteristic choice of yours to actually reach out to someone in real life, to maybe… try to make… friends? You stood there, brows furrowed and a small frown on your face, pondering your options.

“Oh well, all artists must suffer for their work!” You resolved a little too promptly to try to force another encounter with the new kid. He seemed to be special, unique. He seemed to be well aware of the social hierarchy of Shujin, and have a distaste of it at least. Maybe he wouldn’t be… so bad?

Making up your mind, you spent your free period not writing of romance and rebellious characters, but searching for that fluffy-headed newfound hero to your story, however ghoulish and greasy that made you appear. You truly were becoming that “reads-hentai-on-the-train” and stalks cute boys freak your peers thought people like you were, weren’t you?

To your surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising with the volume of Sakamoto’s voice) you soon found the gaggle of second-years, model-status beauty Ann Takamaki now added to their number, standing next to the stairs on the third floor, looking quite conspicuous to boot. Noting the suspicious air around the three, you pulled back, hiding behind the corner leading down the next hall. They seemed on edge... maybe now wasn’t the best time to make friends…?

You felt something thump in your chest. Your shoulders sank subconsciously. It felt a little disappointing, disheartening in a way you couldn’t explain. It was a bit intimidating: Ryuji the loudmouth with a temper, the hottest girl in the school, and the cute new kid. You sighed, this was why you never tried to make friends in the first place. Why had you even gotten your hopes up?

These irrational feelings of self-doubt clouded your heart, your head knowing better of course. It was hard to fight thoughts like these, especially for someone like you. On the precipice of making up your mind, deciding to give up and scrap the new novel idea altogether, you were jolted to attention by the sound of shoes scuffling and scrambling up the stairs.

Students aren’t really allowed on the rooftop during school hours unless accompanied by a teacher or given express permission, your thoughts swarmed. Maybe they didn’t know? No, there’s no way. There’s a possibility Akira didn’t know, but Ann and Ryuji had been here for two years... What were they up to?

Your nosiness was regrettably getting the better of you, and you slithered over, careful to pad your steps and tread softly. You didn’t even know what you’d do once you’d cornered the trio on the roof, didn’t know what you’d say. What was there to say? You were never too good with words, that is those not written on paper. Your heart beating out of your chest, you climbed the narrow stairwell and threw open the doors to the roof.

“Huh?” You looked around, dumbfounded. “Hello?” The rooftop area was not that large, all parts of it visible from the door.

There was no one to be found.

“What the hell?” You step forward, thinking you must have been the subject of some prank, but no, upon looking around, all three students were gone without a trace. No school bags, no lunch boxes, no uniform pieces, nothing. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, all vanished into thin air. There were no hiding spots, none big enough for three people at least. It was dead silent, and only the door you currently guarded provided an exit off of the roof. Your mind wanted to wander to darker places, but if they’d have jumped, there surely would’ve been a commotion either during or shortly after. Frantically, you looked around, feeling like you were going crazy.

“What the fuck?” You pressed the palm of one hand to your forehead, sitting on the ground and crossing your legs.

[pearlplusau]

Attack of the Multiverse!! (Pink Pearl edition)

“Presenting....a new writing series! Here’s the preview of the entire story! Enjoy and thanks for reading in advance!”

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*que intense chase track

 A pink pearl in her latest crystal gem form, was blindly running into the darkened beach, where everything was pitch black. She couldn’t see the water, she couldn't see the sand, heck, she couldn’t even see the giant temple that should be located somewhere in front of her without any light source!

She couldn’t remember how long she ran, but it was more than her physic could take. As she slowed down, she huffed and puffed, almost wheezing from all the running. 

But her break was cut short when-

A sound of blast came from somewhere behind her, controlling whatever it touched as the torn objects such as floor boards, trash cans, and giant chunks of earth levitating around the enemy figure.

As Coral raced towards the temple, which was finally visible from the bright aura of the floating gem, another figure appeared, stretching out her ballerina leg and tripped the poor pink gem.

“Ooof-“ she exclaimed as she faceplanted into the sand.

 As Coral lifted her head, she saw two figures, no wait…two identical figures!

The closest figure wore the outfit she had before the rebellion, her first ever pearl form, except it's all nastified, torned up and darkened, as if someone drenched her with the colour schemes of an arch villain. Instead of buns for her hair, two shaggy and messy side ponytails wildly danced under the blowing night wind. Under her eyes was a trail of dark ink, making her look more horrifying than she could ever imagine! (She’s abandoned pearl, but let’s go with Crazy)

The other figure looked like the first figure, except she was completely greyscaled. Her entire body radiated absolutely no colour, just the dreadful shades of black and white! Her hair, too, was in a complete mess, but in a mad scientist style, where her hair looked like it was electrocuted, but more neatly and less frizzy. Anger was radiated from her twitching eye and her frozen W pose, the twitching eye was glowing with power, as if it’s holding back the power with what’s happening next!

The two of them both bore a damaged right eye, but resembled no difference to each other, they even look like-

Coral gasped, “No way! You’re…me?” as she pointed to the two Pink pearls, getting more and more confused.

“That’s right!” Crazy Pearl spoke with a raspy voice and some crazy in her eyes. “And now that we finally got you, we’ll take our sweet time to DESTROY YOU!!”

The pearl brought out a wand from her gem, and it immediately extended and sprung  into a deadly, pink, glowing rejuvenator. “Once you’re rejuvenated, you can join my little army, and we’ll destroy the worlds together! Mwahhahahhahahahaha!!”

Coral was only able to whimper out, “worlds?” as the crazy gem wasted no time and brought down her pink glowing scythe!

As Coral braced for rejuvenation, a pink ribbon lashed out and gripped on Crazy pearl’s arm. The scythe was frozen in place, but it was flung aside as Crazy was yanked out of her spot! As the ribbon retreated, another figure slowly came out of its hiding.

“You won’t be destroying anything once I’m done with you!” It’s the same voice as Coral herself, but more confident and sure. The figure had Coral’s face, her hair, her gift from Pink diamond. The more obvious significance was the green dress and the placement of the gem on her forehead. The gem in green shouted, “Earl! You take that freak while I take care of crazy here!”

As soon as she ordered, the sound of a gem retrieving their weapon echoed, “SHING!” with the sound of pistol fire not long after!

Bullets were shot, all flying towards freak pearl, but a metal trash can flew out of nowhere and acted as a shield against the attack. 

Coral saw the shooter come out with angered expression, as if she was annoyed of the constant blockage of her attacks. The shooter looked almost exactly like freak pearl, the only difference was one of them is a bleached floating freak while the other wore a long sleeved silk shirt with a diamond shaped cut around her gem, bright pink shorts with huge pink splatters and spots all over her body. Her grey hair buns had little strays of hair at the end, with far less cracks on her face. Earl also had the same cracked eye, but she’s looking a lot less freaky than her counterpart.  

As the two pearls fought as ballerinas, assassins and shooters simultaneously, the confident pearl grabbed on to Coral and ordered, “Come on! We need to get out of here! That ribbon wont hold her for long!!”

The said ribbon was wrapping up crazy pearl with a neat bow on top, however, she looked like she could break free any moment!

“Hurry!” Coral got up and they both went to help Earl. The confident pearl pointed to the levitating gem and ordered,  “Use your lance and take her down!”

“What!?” Coral questioned in surprise, “isn’t that a bit too much?”

“Trust me, it's not!”

Coral summoned and gripped her lance, aimed at the freaky pearl and threw.

The weapon was barely slapped away with the metal trash can, but that little distraction was able to give Earl the chance to finally strike and take her down!

Earl leaped into the air and performed a 10/10 somersault, she gracefully kicked freak pearl as far as she could! “Smack!”

The knocked pearl made no sound, just the sound of her SPLASH landing into the dark ocean.

Coral immediately took the chance and demanded answers from the two, “Can someone explain what is going on!?”

She looked at Earl, who, instead of speaking, did hand gestures that were clearly sign language, but Coral didn’t get the chance to study them unfortunately…

Confident pink pearl translated, “She’s saying we don’t have much time! Come one, this way!” she pointed to the side of the crystal gem temple. “There's a portal there that should lead us straight to her!”

Coral demanded as they ran, “Her who?!?”

“Coral, do you believe in alternate universes?!” Confident pearl asked.

“I do now! Seeing all of you here! Being literally alternate versions of…ME!”

“Well actually, we’re all alternative versions of the OG Pink Pearl, The original! I’m from a diamond swap universe where White Diamond and Pink diamond swapped places, I’m one of original crystal gems, without White diamonds old pearl.” C!Pearl said as Earl nodded at the side.

Earl made more hand gestures to say something, pointing to herself along with more sign language. C!Pearl translated, “That’s Earl, she’s from another timeline where she… you know what, it’s a long story, all you need to know is that we can trust her!”

“But what about the two we just fought?” Coral demanded. 

“Those two? I call them freaky and crazy! They’ve been after us ever since we started portal jumping! I’m not sure where they’re from, but I’m pretty sure Crazy is from an AU where SHE was abandoned in Pink diamond’s garden instead of Spinel! As for freak pearl, really not sure here. Maybe she’s an interpretation of how powerful she could get under a diamond’s complete influence and power?”

Coral gave another quick question, “How do we know who the original Pink pearl is if we’re all from different timelines?”

“Simple,” C!Pearl said, “she’s the pinkpearl that followed the Canon timeline, where she got controlled by White Diamond and spent 6000 years as her mindless servant! Us, however, were created to avoid that specific timeline, so she’s the root of all Pink Pearl. The most important thing to do right now is to look for the first Pink Pearl!! She’s the only one that can help us get deal with our...situation right now.”

“How are we gonna get there with these two on our tail!??” Coral said as she notices more rubble floating behind her as well as a maniacal laugh echoing louder and louder!

“All we need is to get through that portal! Those two wont be able to catch up! Come one!”

The portal, swirling in pink and white star dust, finally became visible behind one of the temple palms. Within the right distance, all three pearls leaped into the portal as it closed behind them!

Shooooofwop!

End of part ???

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Multiverse Pink pearl series! Next chapter coming in-

The two rogue pink pearls stopped their tracks when they found...no portal, nor any of the pearls they were fighting. 

The two antagonists turned to the camera, made little chuckles and pointed at you, the reader. Crazy teased, “Look what we got here freak pearl, someone that thinks this ISNT an April Fool’s special.”

Freak pearl rotated her floating junk around her until they got to a trash can. She set the trash can on the sand and tapped three times. 

Knock

Knock

Knock

There was a moment of silence and snoring, sounds like someone fell asleep. 

Crazy summoned a speaker phone from her gem, placed it at the side of the can, and screamed, “HEY PEARLPLUSAU WRITER! ITS YOUR QUE!” 

 The writer groggily woke up rubbing his eyes, “Yawnnnn….”

He fell off into the sand. 

“Heyyy there fellow readers, yes this IS an April fool’s special, a friend of mine was curious if i would write one of these and sure enough, once the idea got developed, i got straight to the writing process.”

“What was surprising is using us AU characters into his little joke writing, where are the credits you punk?!” Crazy asked in a rather annoyed tone. 

"Oh that? ” The writer continued," Credits of the characters are below! You can see the images, as well as the title of the AUs. Some of the characters are linked back to the creators tumblr account, while other creators who dont have tumblr accounts are linked to original posts, like from Instagram!! ”

Freak pearl snapped her fingers for the writer’s attention and pointed to herself, asking for her origin. 

“Oh freak pearl? I just thought it would be cool if there’s more than one antagonist for this special, so i kinda created you myself. The idea was, how dangerous can pinkpearl be with a diamond’s ability, and there you are! Telekinesis and mega white laser beams! Pretty cool huh?”

Freak pearl did not respond...well. 

“Anyways,” the writer proceeded, “writing this was a pretty fun 1.5 hours of the time i have, not including reviewing and editing tho. If theres anyone out there that wishes to continue the story in their own way, be my guest. Just let me know so i can read it myself lol, im very interested in your take of the situation! “

April fools! And thanks for reading!

Characters (even though they’re not drawn) 

Coral/Pink pearl from Pearlplusau - Original design by Tripixle!!

Crystal gem Pink pearl from Diamond swap au - Credit to @dreambigstars

Earl from WD steven au - AU character from @ask-whitepearl-and-steven

Crazy pearl (Despair pink pearl), Design from Shrimp.face (Link to their post) 

Freak Pearl, no specific au named, nor from any creator. So i guess she’s my AU character?

A/N: Hope you guys had fun reading as much as i had fun writing it!

Also the real new chapter coming in probs two weeks from now.

Slightly unrelated, there might not be as much visuals as there was last chapter. The drawing pen is a bit busted. 

Till then! Bye!

[andilovetowrite]

Party Favors P.P

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: When trying to convince Peter to go to a party with you, a few secrets are revealed about a certain web-slinger’s crush, with your dad hanging onto every word. Total fluff here, guys!

Using the prompt: “come on, I can’t go to the party alone!”

Warnings: Nothing terrible, a swear word or two, I think. Just a lot of Flustered!Peter….. Oh, and Liz Allen being a prominent wing woman. Some suggestiveness as well. Sprinkles of angst but ends in fluff

Posted: April 30, 2021

Word Count: 3.2k

Here is my Masterlist in case you wanna read some more work of mine. Also, my requests are open :)

“Pleaseee”, you pleaded, begging your best friend, “pretty please?” Peter Parker, the neighbour hood’s protector, Spiderman, an Avenger and your best friend stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed while he indignantly shook his head.

“Nope. Now way Y/N”

“C’mon, Pete. Just one time? Please, please, please?”

Peter sighed, raising his chocolate brown eyes to meet your Y/E/C eyes. “Is it necessary? Like life and death?”

“Yes! It is! Well, it saves lives and prevents death. And I need your help with this.”

Peter pursed his lips, looking a whole lot like a family member of yours you recently spoke to. “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, for starters, payback… Like the time I had to tell the press that ‘intern’ Peter Parker was doing a brilliant job working for my dad.”

“Yeah, I guess. But could you blame me? Y/N Stark saying to the world that I do a great job working as an intern was a sure way to make Flash shut up.”

“Ah, I get it. You’re just using me for my name!” you said, clasping a hand to your chest, faking hurt. Pretending to wipe off a tear, you whispered sorrowfully, “Another one bites the dust…”

“Uh-huh. And we are sure the amazing Y/N Stark didn’t have fun winding up Flash the next day at school when you strolled in and gave me an Intern Of The Month award in front of him?”

You laughed, remembering the moment fondly. “That was one of your better plans…”

Then you snapped out of your memories, smiling slightly. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make me reminisce about cute stories and get out of this deal. It’s happening.”, you said, gesturing to the two of you.

Peter groaned, falling back on your chair. “Dang it. I thought that would distract you for a while. But seriously? Do you want me to get killed?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, walking over to him. “Nobody is going to kill you! The party is at Liz’s house, and you’re Spiderman! Nobody can kill you.” For some reason, Peter face flushed pink when you mentioned Liz’s name.

But then he retorted. “Well, I’m not worried about our classmates. Or my enemies. I’m worried about… Mr Stark.” Peter said this almost worriedly, looking around, eyes locking onto his suit, which he grabbed, throwing it up into his attic.

Doubling over in laughter at his expression, you shakily walked over to your bed, jumping on it. “Why- why would you be afraid of my dad?!”

“Well, he specifically said you aren’t allowed to go to parties, but you want me to go with you to one of the biggest parties of the year.”

“Okay, well… that’s the reason you are coming with me. My dad said, and I quote. If one, just one, smart person attends that party, then you are allowed to go. And that’s where you come in. You are the ‘smart person!”

Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, obviously relieved. “Uh, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“Oh, I know. But we are Starks. We never mean what we say.”, you say, backhandedly. “So, are you in?”

“Y/N, you know I love you, but…”

“Peter. I’m so sorry I have to do this, but… I’m going to have to use the best friend card.”

Peter gasped, looking at you in shock. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, come on, I can’t go to the party alone!” you exclaim, jumping on the bed.

“Why can’t you go alone?”

“Why don’t you like parties?” you shoot back, turning to look at him, admiring the small clusters of freckles that adorn his face.

“I-I like parties. Just not Liz Allen’s parties.”

“Oh really?” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows, “that’s not what I heard when you and Ned went to her party in Freshmen year.”

“That… was different.”

Smiling victoriously, you let out a giggle. “Sure it wassss” He turned bright red again, turning away from you. You felt a pang in your heart, wondering why he was acting strange. “Wait, Peter, do you still like her?” You asked this, feeling your stomach sink down.

He flipped around so quickly; you. were sure he could’ve broken something. “No, NO, not at all.”

You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong, but gave it up, vowing to figure it out later. “Alright, so will you come with me to the party?”

Peter looked at me, breaking into a grin. “Of course, I shall accompany you to the party, m’lady.”

“Well, thank you so much, my good man.”, you said in a horrible British accent. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling as he glowed in the evening light. And as the two of you laughed, falling back into the bed, you wondered if you should tell Peter that you liked him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon, the day of the party arrived, and you honestly couldn’t wait for it. You bought a short dark blue dress, pairing it with some golden accessories and a pair of sneakers. Slipping them on, you headed into the driveway, making sure no one was around before activating your suit, flying off the ground and to Peter’s house. As you arrived, you knocked on the door, shifting from side to side, worried if you had worn too much for a casual party, but you were pleasantly surprised to see Peter dressed up nicely, dark blue jeans and a white shirt, a comfy sweater hanging off his shoulders.

“Woah,” Peter said, looking at you with adoration in his eyes, “you look amazing Y/N!”

You blushed, looking down. “Thanks, Pete, you look great as well.” Peter became red at your comment, not saying anything but holding his arm out to you instead. Looping your elbow through his, you went down to the car where May was going to take you to Liz’s house.

Arriving there, the music was blaring loud, the clinks of glass bottles in the air, while about 50 students and friends stood around the vast house, chatting and drinking.

“Hey guys!” Liz greeted, smiling warmly at us. “Come on in. We have drinks and snacks at the pool, DJ in the living room and a game of truth or dare upstairs.”

“Let’s do truth or dare”, you said, looking at Peter to see if it was alright. He nodded, letting Liz lead the way. Walking upstairs, we came into a guest bedroom, where about ten,eople were sitting in a circle, looking totally wasted.

“Is there alcohol?”, you asked, worried.

Liz laughed. “No no, they just all gotta act drunk. Gave them the dare.”

“Ah alright.” Peter said, glancing at me. Going over, you sat down, seated between Flash and Peter.

“Heyy Penis Parker. Hey there Stark.” He said, spitting out Peter’s fun nickname, but said yours flirtatiously. Almost glaring at him, you muttered back.

“Hello, Flash. What horrible thing are you doing on this evening?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wondering why you walked in with Penis Parker here and not someone who can actually handle you. And your wealth and fame.”

Scoffing, you turn towards Peter, whose face is almost red with fury. You could see him clenching his fists, which he rarely does. You knew he was minutes away from punching Flash, but you didn’t want to make a whole scene, so you did something you never would have thought to do.

You grabbed Peter’s hand and kissed the back of it, leaning into him. You felt him tense behind you, breathing heavily. “Well Flash, who else would I come with if not the guy I have a crush on? Only seems fair rather than someone who makes a fool out of your best friend.”

Flash’s eyes went wide, looking between Peter and you, but then he cackled. Yeah, you said cackled. It’s what it sounds like. He doubled over, hitting his knee. “No way. I love this. Y/N Stark making Peter Parker, an intern of her multi-billion dollar father, and pretending to date him! There is no way in hell Penis Parker could get someone like you.” Flash said this maliciously, glaring at Peter.

You felt Peter lose his crip on you, taking in a sharp intake of air. “He’s right”, Peter whispered softly into your ear, his voice shaky and choked.

“Peter no!”, but it was too late. He stood up, walking out of the room at lightning speed. You glared at Flash but didn’t wait around, instead of running to find Peter. You ran to the stairs, where you saw him ask MJ where Liz was. Confused why he might want to talk to Liz, you walked down the stairs, staying out of his sights for the moment. You followed him as he walked into Liz’s room, leaving the door ajar. Tiptoeing to stand outside the room, you leaned against the wall, trying to make out what Peter was saying to Liz.

Peter’s POV

I ran down the stairs, quickly asking MJ where Liz was. I could hear someone’s heartbeat loud and clear, but I just assumed that it was my own. Ugh, I hate Flash. But it’s not like he was wrong. Y/N wouldn’t ever like me. She was just being a good friend by sticking up for me to a guy I should’ve beaten up long ago. I could feel my teeth grit together as I walked to Liz’s bedroom, knocking.

“Hey Peter, what’s wrong?”

I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. Explaining to her what happened, she sat me down on the bed, rubbing my back. I could see the fury in her eyes when I told her about Flash.

“I have half a mind to go out and kick him out of my house.”

“It’s fine. But how do I tell her?”

Liz thought for a moment, and then lowered her voice down a bit, quickly glancing over to the door. Scruching my eyebrows, I wondered why she was now whispering but went along with it.

“Why don’t you pretend I’m Y/N. Tell her how you feel. Trust me, she will say yes.”

“Uh okay”, I said, not having too much of a problem, since I had this infront of the mirror dozens of times. “Hey-y. I just wanted to tell you something. I really really like you!”

“Louder”, Liz said, looking at me then at the door.

“Um, I really like you. Well, not just like. I literally love you. I love the way that you are sweet and charming, but also hard and firm. You look like a goddess, whether you are working out or going out in the city. Whenever you come over next to me, my senses go crazy because I am just so in love with you. I know you probably don’t think of me this way, but I had to get it off my chest.”

I finished rambling, when I saw Liz’s wide eyes. “Why? Was that too much?” I was worried, standing up quick.

Liz saw my expression, shaking her head hard. “No no, you’re good. But you gotta come with me right now. I-um know a way to get you and Y/N to like each other by the end of today”

Grabbing my hand, she pulled me up, pulling me quickly through the crowd, into a small closet at the end of the hall. “Okay, wait here”, she said, running off. I stood there, bouncing from side to side, wondering what Liz was doing. But I got my answer quite quickly when she ran back, basically pulling Y/N. “Come here!”, she said, pushing her to me.

“Okay, guys. I hope you two don’t hate me but this has to be done”, was all Liz said before she threw open the door behind us, pushing us both in with shocking strength and closing us in darkness. I reached to open the door but found it locked.

Y/N’s POV

Peter looked at the door, then glanced back at me. “It’s locked”, he said simply, scratching his neck, something he did when he was nervous.

“No shit sherlock. But did you forget, you are Spiderman? Just break it.”

He shook his head, mumbling something about not wanting to break Liz’s stuff. You rolled your eyes, sighing. You rummaged through your pocket, finding a small hairpin. Pushing him aside, you jammed it in, nudging it around until you heard a little click.

“There, it’s now open”, you said sarcastically, leaning back.

“Woah, I’ve never seen you do that!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t usually break open locks, do I?”

Peter picked up on your attitude, leaning back as well, sitting on the floor, making me look at him expectantly.

“Why don’t you just go back to your girlfriend?” you said bitterly, turning away from Peter. He scrunched his eyebrows, confused.

“What girlfriend?” he asked, trying to make space in the small closet.

“Liz. I heard you telling her how much you loved her earlier. An entire freaking speech if I remember correctly.”

He looked confused until his eyes lit up in recognition. “Wait-you thought, what- me and Liz, huh?”

“Yeah, aren’t you and Liz together? Or did she turn you down?”

Peter chuckled, eyes softening as he looked at me. “I don’t love Liz. I don’t even like her. What you heard earlier was Liz helping me out. Practising if you might.”

“Who was Liz pretending to be?”, you asked, disappointed.

“Well, she is smart, kind, badass and absolutely ethereal. She has such a strong spirit and is great at bringing people up. I have loved her for three years. Which, ironically, is how much time we have been best friends. By the way, her dad’s also Tony Stark”, Peter says this, coming closer to you, one hand coming up to hold your cheek gingerly. Searching in your eyes for confirmation, he leaned closer slowly, giving you enough time if you wanted to move away, but you didn’t, instead of moving up the last few inches and making your lips collide with his.

Time stopped as you pressed your lips together, hand finding its way to his curls, roughly holding on to them, while Peter held your waist, not wanting to let you go. You could’ve kissed Peter forever, but the need for oxygen became too much.

Pulling away from Peter, you rested your forehead on his, smiling contently. “I love you”, Peter whispered, cupping your face lightly, holding you at arm’s length.

Giving a small laugh at his nervousness, you kissed him softly, feeling him relax against you. “I love you too, Peter Parker.”

Peter grinned back at me with his signature smile, but the moment ended when we heard a loud bang from outside. “What the hell?” you exclaimed, running to the door; Peter following your footsteps. You could see Peter from the corner of your eye pull his shirt back slightly, revealing a pair of web-shooters he had underneath. Pushing a hand inside your pocket, you could feel the silver ring you carried with you. Slipping it on, you held your thumb over it, waiting for the moment to activate your suit. But when you and Peter burst outside, hands up to fight, you saw your dad, pacing the area, right now talking to a very scared looking Flash.

“Where is my daughter? You have one minute until I blast you off the face of this planet. And trust me when I say it, because bitch please, I’ve been to space.”

Covering your mouth with your hand to stifle your laughter, you walked closer, coming up behind your dad. “I think I might know where your daughter is”, you say in a solemn voice.

Tony whirled around quickly, looking you up and down. Pulling me into a hug for a second, he let go as soon as he did, holding you at arm’s length. “Why the heck are you at this party?!” he asked firmly.

“Well, dear father, you did say that at least one smart person had to be at this party, and that’s why,” you moved out of your dad’s grip, pushing Peter forward, “he is here.”

Peter came forward awkwardly, waving at Tony. “Hey, Mr Stark. How are you and Ms Potts?”

Tony nodded at Peter, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “We’re fine, Underoos. How are you and my daughter? You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Peter spluttered, mumbling at your dad. “N-n,o of course not Mr Stark. I-I respect and lo-love your daughter very much. We just kissed for a bit- and I mean, it felt terrific- wait, that’s not why I’m with her. I’m not wi-with her for her beauty. I mean-she i-is beautiful, but I don’t want that. Wait-uh-”

Giggling at what Peter was saying, you threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing them to give him some strength and to tell him to shut up before he said anything else. Tony sighed, giving an ‘I’m too old for this shit’ face.

“Okay, thank you for telling me about your love life, kiddo, but I’d rather not hear it. Both of you, meet me in the car. We can stay at the compound today, and I’ll tell Happy to text May.”

Tony turned around, walking to the car, while you and Peter stood there in shock. “Do you think he’ll let us sleep in the same room?” you asked Peter, nudging him playfully.

“NO”, your dad shouted from across the street, turning to look back at Peter, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ sign. Peter visibly gulped from beside you, making you chuckle.

“Hey! Peter, Y/N!” Liz called out, running from inside the house. “I saw your dad. Are you heading home?”

Nodding defeatedly, you confirmed it. She smiled lightly before telling us to wait here, running back in. In a minute, she ran back out, a small bag in each hand. “Here, a small return gift.”

“Aw, thanks, Liz!” Peter said, smiling at her.

She smirked. “You’ll like it even better when you find out what I put in yours, Peter. For a fact, both of you can use it.” She winked at us, making me worried.

“Wait, you what did you-”

“Face masks. Get your mind out of the gutter Y/N”, Liz said, laughing. Peter scoffed from beside me, laughing as well.

“Anyway, gotta go, Liz. See you at school.” Hugging the girl goodbye, you and Peter made your way to the car.

“That was nice of Liz”, Peter commented, looking up at the stars.

“Yeah, but I got my party favour”, you said simply, putting your hand in Peter’s, pulling him down to give him one sweet kiss under the night sky.

“HEY HEY HEY, NO KISSING INFRONT OF ME!” Tony yelled from the car.

“Wait, how did Mr Stark know we're together?”

“YOUR SUIT OBVIOUSLY!”, Tony yelled, getting the car upfront.

Peter groaned, banging his head against the window. “I knew it!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thanks for reading this, guys! Hope you enjoyed this small fic. I loved writing it, plus it’s one of my longest ones, so expect more one-shots like this. See you till the next one!

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party. 

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited. 

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake. 

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.” 

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”  

[ironlime]

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I��ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

[winterscaptain]

absence.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the next installment is here! this is the second-to-last piece in the berry hill section of a joyful future. as it has been lately, this one requires little ajf context, but i would recommend reading berry hill and waldosia, if you haven’t already. (thanks to aimz @ssaic-jareau, kira @good-heavens-chris-evans, and sabina @writefasttalkevenfaster) edit: this has been heavily revised as of april 29th, 2021. the changes and additions address continuity errors and ongoing subplots. 

words: 7k (prev. 3.8k) warnings: language, vomit mention, really accurate satellite phone protocol (eat your heart out, cm writers), beard!hotch, jack hotchner content, one last slow burn

summary: “absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great” - roger de bussy-rabutin. au!march-september 2011

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: april 29th, 2021

There’s a moment where he stops at your desk on the way out of the bullpen, but you just stare at him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. After a moment, he finally says, “Jack is with Jessica tonight.” 

You have no idea what your face looks like, but it’s enough to drop his shoulders and send him on his way, defeated.

+++

You let yourself into his apartment, slamming the door behind you. He’s been waiting for you, leaning against the windowsill across from the door. 

“How dare you.”

He sighs and presses a hand to his forehead. “You have to understand that I -”

“Bullshit, Aaron. I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing. What are you thinking? We need you.” 

His head tips up, and he looks through you. The haunted look in his eyes almost makes you falter - it so acutely reminds you of the days following Haley’s death - but you keep your resolve. He doesn’t say anything, just lets you yell at him until it's out of your system. You could never actually hate him and he knows that, which makes some of it easier, but not all of it. 

The tears start and pick up speed as you continue, nearly at a shout. “You've known for seven months that you were going to leave for Pakistan. I read the brief. Seven. Fucking. Months, Aaron. Since September, you’ve known and you didn’t tell us about the task force assignment in fucking Pakistan!” 

You pause, but the final nail in his proverbial coffin leaves your mouth without permission. “Emily died, and you’re still leaving?” He flinches. “You’re leaving me and Jack. You’re leaving our team. I never thought you could do something like that to us. Maybe them, but not me. Never to me. I mean, after everything we’ve -” You cut yourself off and raise the back of your hand to your mouth, unable to finish the unbearably painful thought.

He’s not sure which part is the most painful - the fact that you list yourself with Jack instead of with the BAU, the fact that you say ‘our team,’ or the tone that drips with hurt. The sob that rips through your chest breaks his heart. He leans heavily against the arm of his couch, knocked down by the weight of your tears. 

No. The hardest part is knowing he deserves it, that you aren’t saying anything that isn't unfair or untrue. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” 

He can only watch you as you walk back out, leaving the door open behind you. 

About twenty minutes later, he receives a text.

9:34pm I’ll be there tomorrow at 12:30 to take you to base. Be ready when I get there. 

He crawls into bed about half an hour later, and receives another text.

10:05pm Goodnight. 

Fuck. 

+++

The ride to base ride is mostly silent, and you know something’s wrong. It’s nothing you can articulate or even really put your finger on, but it’s something bigger than just his imminent absence.

He’s boarding a C-130 supply transport with a few Marines and various agency task force members to an outpost in Pakistan. It will no doubt be a long and deeply uncomfortable flight. His go bag, packed with desert fatigues and a couple of creature comforts, looks smaller than usual at his feet. 

“How long?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Task force operations are need-to-know.” There’s so much he can’t tell you, and it eats at him. Because it’s you, and he’s been an ass, he concedes a little. “Probably a couple of months.”

“We’ll be okay, Aaron.” 

A little laugh leaves him, and it pulls a smile from you. 

“What?”

“Remember when you chased me down last night to tell me the team couldn’t do this without me?” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s still true, but we’ll manage. We always do.” There’s a moment of silence, and you continue. “And you’re going where you’re needed. That helps.” 

It’s true. Your anger had cooled (just a little) overnight, and you decided you didn’t want to be upset with him when he leaves. 

You already miss him. 

“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you.”

He looks out the window, and you can hear the wheels turning in his head. Jack is on his mind, and so are you. There’s nothing more nauseating than the thought of leaving you while you’re still hurting from Emily’s loss. “I know.” 

Why are you going through with this, Hotchner?

Oh, right. You’re a coward. 

“I just don’t want our last conversation before you leave to be a fight.” You sniff, but don’t look at him as you continue driving down the highway. 

I am perhaps the most undeserving man on the planet. 

He says, “Thank you. I don’t want that either,” but he hopes you can hear what else he can’t say. 

I love you. I’m sorry. 

+++

“Alright, you’ve got everything you need?” You stand next to him on the tarmac, shading your eyes from the sun. 

Aaron hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. “Think so. You gonna be alright?”

You nod and reach for him. He embraces you, tucking his head into your shoulder. “You be safe, Aaron Hotchner. If you die out there I’ll kill you myself.” 

He chuckles, and you hope the sound is enough to keep your heart from breaking too much over the next couple of months. Your eyes close as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll check in when I can.”

Shoving against his chest, you turn him around and push him toward the plane. “Get outta here.” 

He takes one last look over his shoulder when he reaches the loading ramp and offers you a wave. You return it. 

+++

You manage to get to the highway before the tears start. The only person you want to talk to is Emily. She’d know exactly what to say, and she’d make sure your days off were full of fun and good company. You pull off on the side of the road, your head falling into your hands, sobs wracking through you.

When you’re able to keep driving, your chest hurts beyond belief. 

Without her, these months seem to stretch before you forever. 

+++ april 2011 +++

It’s not the first time you’ve ended up in his office alone, but it’s the first time you’ve really noticed the evidence of his absence. 

The picture frames on his desk started gathering dust, so you brought a little duster to the office. His desktop computer has stopped making noise, so you turned it on and off once out of pity. His phone hardly rings, unless it's the NSA trying to get a hold of one of you for a sat phone call, so you and Morgan take turns taking forwarded calls. 

The silence is overwhelming and seems to pull something intangible from you. It’s exhausting. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” 

You turn, finding Penelope in the doorway. You’re not sure how long she’s been there, watching your acquiescence to the bees that seem to have invaded your brain in the last couple of weeks. 

“I slept last night,” you tell her. It’s not technically a lie. 

She doesn’t look impressed. “Did you sleep through the night, or are you just trying to play one of your Jedi mind tricks on me?” 

With a sigh, you cop to it. “No, I didn’t sleep through the night.” You look out the window to the bullpen, and you know she sees something on your face. 

“I don’t like it either.” She looks over her shoulder, finding Spencer and Ashley playing a game of Go on the desk. Unsurprisingly, Spencer’s winning. Rossi and Derek speak quietly by the little kitchen, looking just about as tired as you feel. 

The short-handedness is getting to you. “There’s just…” You search for something to say. “There’s just so much to do.” 

Penelope looks back. Her mouth twists. “And we’re down a couple’a hands.” 

That’s an understatement. 

+++

“I would understand if you needed some time to think about it.” Erin leans forward in her chair, elbows on her desk. “With your team cut in half, even I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending you to another unit without some time to train a replacement or two.” 

“Or three,” you add.

She looks at you and nods. “Exactly.” 

You pick up the letter from the Special Agent in Charge in Los Angeles. You’d be his right hand - essentially the liaison between operational support divisions and units operating in the field. It’s a hell of an opportunity, a huge promotion, and a significant bump in pay. 

“Can I take you up on the offer to think about it?” You slide the letter across the desk again. 

Her eyes are soft, and you almost feel close to her in that moment. “Of course. Take your time. It’s a position created just for you, so there’s nobody else in line for it.” 

“Thanks.” 

+++ may 2011 +++

“Ready or not, here I come!” You call across the apartment, sneaking through the familiar rooms with practiced ease. 

Aaron’s been away for close to a month, and you’ve settled into a routine. Cases, of course, keep you busy. Derek’s rather good at playing unit chief - decisive and collaborative - but you miss Aaron’s steady, even hand. 

Really, you miss everything about him. You try not to think about him too much. 

You fail, often. 

Avoiding thoughts of Aaron gets even harder as you creep into the master bedroom. The smell of him hasn’t left. Past the doorway, the air is spicy, masculine, and warm. You squint at the bed. One of the pillows moves, just a little, and you pounce, pulling the covers back and grabbing the wiggling pillow. 

Jack screeches and throws himself at you. You catch him and fall back on the bed, laughing. “I found you!”

Jess is off running errands for the afternoon, taking some well-earned time off. You’ll more than likely spend the night over here tonight to give her more of her weekend. It’s never any trouble to stay with Jack. You adore each other. 

Usually, Jack leaps right to his feet for another round, but he stays put after his fit of mirth passes, sprawling across your chest. 

“What are you thinking about over there?”

He sighs, and brings his little hands under his chin, propping his head up so he can look at you. He’s six (and then some), now - still very much a boy - but the pensive look on his face starkly reminds you of his father. “When’s Dad going to be home?”

You push some hair off his forehead. “I’m not sure, my love. I’m hoping it’s only a couple more weeks, but it could be a little longer than that.” 

He sighs, and it breaks your heart a little. You turn on your side, and he curls into you, resting his head on your arm and tucking under your chin. “Are you and my dad best friends? I have a best friend named Connor and he says best friends are really important and I was just wondering.”

You laugh a little. “Yeah, I think so. Your dad and I have known each other for a long time.” His little hands play with the collar of your shirt. There’s more to his question. Jack’s just like his dad and takes a bit of ferreting out. Luckily, you’ve had plenty of practice. “What are you curious about, little bug?”

“Do you miss Dad?”

A track of Aaron’s laugh, his smile, the way his arms feel around you flies through your head. “Yeah, I miss him a lot.” 

“I’m happy you’re here so we can miss him together.” You can almost hear Aaron’s voice in Jack’s. It sounds just like something he would say, and probably has said, talking to his son about Haley.

“Me too, buddy.” You kiss the top of his head. “Me too.” 

Jess returns about an hour later, groceries in-hand, to find you and Jack curled together in Aaron’s bed, snoozing the afternoon away. She snaps a picture with her phone, saving it in an album she keeps for Aaron. After she puts the groceries away, she escapes, leaving a note. 

You’re on your own tonight and tomorrow. Have a good time with breakfast - he’s been picky lately. 

XO, Jess

+++

“You know,” Jess says, a little out of the blue one afternoon. “Haley told me something once.” 

You snort. “I’d imagine she told you a great number of things.” 

“Well, sure. But I mean about you and Aaron.” 

It’s pretty stupid that your body decides to panic over absolutely nothing. If this was a polygraph, you’d fail outright. And yet, nothing’s happened between you and Aaron. You’re just friends. 

Yeah but you love him. 

And he probably loves you, too. 

But we're all to chickenshit for that.

What a-fucking-bout it?

You take a little breath and a sip of your tea. “Oh?” You hope the query sounds casual enough and doesn’t give away the cool sweat blossoming over your palms. 

Luckily, Jess isn’t a profiler. 

“Haley told me - and this was the summer before she died, so it’s not like she told me under duress or anything - that she thought there may have been something between you and Aaron after the divorce.” 

She says that like it’s the simplest thing. You’re not sure what to say, so you keep your eyes on the grain of the coffee table, tracing the lines with your eyes. Eventually, you decide to answer in the simplest, most honest way possible. 

“There’s never been anything between Aaron and me. He’s one of my best friends and I care about him.” That sounds evasive even to your own ears. “I care about him a lot.” 

Jess hums. “I know, but Haley always had a sense about these things. And she knows Aaron better than anyone.” 

Her slip into the present tense makes your chest pull. 

“I don’t say that to put you on the spot or anything.” She shrugs. “I just think you guys would be good together. You’re good for him and I think he’s good for you, too.” 

She’s more right than she knows, but you can’t think about it for too long. You miss him too much. 

Out of a need to respond, you offer a half-hearted, “Maybe.” 

Jess reaches out. “He’ll be home soon. When he gets back, I think you should at least think about it. Or talk about it.” She shakes her head. “Or something.” 

“I have -” You cut yourself off, not really meaning to share. 

She squeezes your knee. “I know you have. So has he.” 

+++ june 2011 +++

Back to back cases - five of them, to be exact, pull you through the next four weeks by the ear. Formal leadership wears on Derek more and more by the day, and you find yourself making just as many decisions as he does. You’re immensely proud of him, but the whole thing is exhausting. Spencer does his best to slip back into his normal role, but Emily’s loss continues to wear on him. You don’t blame him.

Most days feel held together by duct tape, with you and Rossi acting as the adhesive. All that and the offer in Los Angeles you’ve hardly had time to process. 

Thus, your evening with Jess is both well-earned and much needed. 

“Wanna crash here tonight?” She sets a mug of tea down on the coffee table in front of you and sits heavily back on the couch. “It’s pretty late.”

You check your watch and find it is indeed late. Before you can answer, your phone rings, and you answer it with an apologetic glance toward Jess. “Hey, Morgan. What’s up?”

“We have sat call notification from Hotch. Can you come in?” He sounds exhausted. 

“Yeah, I can be there in twenty. Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah, looks like a routine check-in.” 

Jess sighs, knowing the drill. She goes to the kitchen and pours your tea into a travel mug. 

“Are you calling anyone else in?”

“Nope. Just you. See you when you get here.” He hangs up. 

You stare at your phone as Jess sits next to you again. “We have a call from Aaron coming in, and I have to head to the office.” She hands you your travel mug, and you take it gratefully. 

“You’re welcome back here - I can set up Aaron’s room for you. We’re a lot closer to the office than your place, and I don’t want you to drive if you’re too tired.” She sets a hand on your knee, and you reach over to embrace her. 

“Thanks, Jess.”

+++

When you arrive, Derek’s already on the phone. “... So, no leads?... Right.” He looks up and catches your eye. “Here, Hotch.”

You take the phone. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He sounds relieved. “Are you doing okay? How’s Jack?”

His questions make you smile. “We’re good. He’s good. I just left the apartment - Jess and I were having some grown-up movie time.”

You’re warmed by his laugh. “Good. Glad to hear it. I was just telling Derek that the leads out here have gone cold, but we’re still working.”

“Ah. Any chance you’ll be home soon?” You avoid Derek’s searching gaze. 

“It doesn’t look that way, no. We’re picking up on some chatter out there, but nothing firm. We’ll have to keep out for a couple more weeks at least.”

Your heart drops, but you hide it as best you can. “Alright. Anything you need from us back here?”

“Just keep doing good work.” You know he can’t say much more than that, with more than a couple of NSA guys in between you on the line, not to mention the archival recording of the call. Even then, you know he means looking for Doyle. “That’s all I need from you.” 

“We can do that.” You give him a quick rundown of some recent cases, all surface-level. You’re mostly stalling, using up incredibly expensive satellite time just to hear his voice. 

You hear him sigh. “Alright, I gotta get back. Tell Jack and Jess I love them.” 

“Of course.” You hand the phone back to Derek and wait while they finish up. Your eyes wander over the volumes of law books in Aaron’s bookshelf, the pictures of Jack and Haley and Jess behind his desk. Wandering over to his chair, you sit down and rest your head on your arms. 

Your eyes wander to a photo taken a year and a half ago at Haley’s service. You’re not sure who took it, but you’re crouched on the ground talking to Jack, while Aaron stands behind him with a hand on his head. Jack's little hands are in yours, and he’s smiling a little. 

Of all the photos to keep on his desk...

Derek hangs up the sat phone and puts it back in the lockbox. He crosses the office and leans against the desk beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

+++

When you get back to the apartment (indeed much closer than your home), Jess is asleep in the guest room, and Jack’s still out like a light. 

You change into your pajamas, stuffed into your go bag, and curl up under the covers on Aaron's side of the bed. His pillow smells faintly like him, and you burrow into it. 

The bed feels far too big and far too cold without him. 

+++

“JJ!” You stand to greet her. “What are you doing here?” 

She holds up her credentials. “I’ve been reinstated as a profiler on temporary assignment, so don’t get too excited. It’s a contingent favor for the FBI and I’m sure the State Department will call to collect sometime soon.” 

You clear your consults and subpoenas off the desk beside you. “Good to have you back.” Looking over at the intimidating stack of files you ask, “Need anything to do?”

+++ july 2011 +++

The next time a sat call comes in, you can’t go into the office. Jack has the flu and is absolutely miserable. You can’t, in good conscience, leave Jess to her own devices. Between the vomit and the sleeplessness and the tears, four hands are absolutely necessary. 

“Derek, I can’t leave. Jack is literally puking his guts out as we speak, and I don’t have any new intel for Hotch.” 

Morgan huffs into the phone. “Come on. You know you’re the only one he actually wants to talk to and the only one who has any actual updates about Jack.” 

“You just have to tell him that I’m up in the middle of the night with his son, who has the flu. Isn’t that enough of an update?” You don’t really mean to snap at him, but the lack of sleep has made you a little punchy. 

“Fine. If he -”

“Yeah, I know. If he gets upset, just blame me. He can deal with me when he’s not in Pakistan. As long as there are five time zones between us, I’ll take my fucking chances.”

“Fair enough.” 

He hangs up, and you return to the hall bathroom, where Jack’s cheek is pressed against the toilet seat, his forehead clammy and face pale. Jess is taking her turn to sleep - you’ll switch off in an hour. 

“Hey, bubba.”

He mumbles something that sounds like, “Hi.”

“Can I get you some crackers or maybe some Sprite?” 

Jack shakes his head and lifts himself up, holding his arms out. The risk of illness far from your mind, you gather him up and lean against the cabinets, rubbing his back.

“Can you try to close your eyes for me?”

“I don’t feel good.” There are a few tears in his voice, and it breaks your heart a little. You’ve so been there. 

“I know, baby. I know. Just close your eyes for a minute, okay?”

He does, and his breathing evens out eventually. He’s still feverish, but you’re happy he’s sweating, at least. It could break by morning at this rate. 

The makeshift towel-bed on the bathroom floor looks more than inviting. You gingerly shuffle over and lay down, keeping Jack flat against your chest. 

It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

+++

“Strauss offered me that transfer to LA again.” 

Derek looks up at you from his report, his brows drawn low over his eyes. “You gonna take it?” 

You heave a sigh. Before you can say anything -

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He puts his pen down, giving you his full attention. “What’s stopping you?” 

So many things. 

There are only a couple of them you can say aloud. Luckily, they have the benefit of being true, albeit incomplete. “I love this work. I love this team. I don't know if I want to be a lackey for an almost-politician.” 

“And?” 

He’s got you. He knows there’s more because he knows you. Even then, you can’t bring yourself to say exactly what it is that’s holding you back. So, you hedge your answer, knowing he’ll understand. 

“I can’t -” leave Aaron and Jack. You clear your throat. “I can’t leave this team. Maybe that makes me a coward or suggests a lack of adventure or something, but I can’t do it.” 

“It doesn’t,” Derek says. “It makes you human.” 

You smile a little. 

“And for the record, I don’t want you to leave. And I don’t think Jack and Hotch do, either.” 

A little incredulous laugh leaves you. Derek simply smiles, but doesn’t say much else. It makes your point for you. 

Nobody else knows you like this team. 

+++

The hardest days are the ones where you end up by yourself. Derek’s picked up kickboxing with Penelope, Spencer has withdrawn almost entirely, JJ has her family, and Rossi retreats to the cabin by the lake with an alarming degree of regularity. 

Thank God he’s not as cranky as Gideon. 

That would be too spooky. 

Everyone is out of the office, scattered to their respective distractions. You sit on the floor of Aaron’s office, leaning against his desk. Your laptop sits open in front of you, but you’re only half paying attention to the movie playing. 

It was only this afternoon you realized his office smelled more like stale paper, your house, and Tiger Balm than Aaron, and it broke your heart a little. Your only solace was his apartment - the evidence of his existence was inescapable there. With Emily gone for good, you often needed the reminder. 

His office phone rings. You pause the movie, stand, and answer it. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office.” 

NSA is on the other side, dry and professional. “We have an incoming call from Agent Hotchner. Is Agent Morgan available?” 

You tell him he’s not, but that you’re the next in line to receive task force updates. In an equally dry and professional tone, you relay your credentials and your unique intel code. 

“Thank you. Please stand by.” Click. 

You roll your eyes. 

God, they’re boring. 

Sitting down at Aaron’s desk, you wait for the armed guard to arrive with the phone. As per protocol, you’ll sign for the call and remove it from the lockbox yourself. You’ll return it for pickup when the call is completed. 

The guard shows up and you step through the motions, finally getting the phone to your ear. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh, it’s you.” He sounds surprised, but not displeased. 

You laugh a little. “Yeah, it’s me. Morgan’s unavailable at the moment.” 

“I see. Is Jack feeling any better?”

“Yeah. He’s been alright for about a week now. It was a pretty nasty bug, but he’s a trooper. Any new chatter down your way?” You trace the wood grain of his desk with your finger, only a little absent-minded. 

“There’s a little bit of activity on the border. We’re monitoring the situation. Is everything going okay over there?”

“Yeah, for the most part. We’ve been feeling the heat a little since Seaver transferred to Andy’s unit, but we’re managing alright. Dave’s called JJ back in to lend a hand, and she’s doing really well.” 

He hums. “That was a smart idea.” 

“I’ll tell him you said so.” 

“Oh, please don’t. It’ll go straight to his head.” 

You smile. “Fair point. Any updates on the timetable?”

When are you coming home? Please make it soon. 

“Not at the moment. I think we’re getting closer. Few more weeks.” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite grasp, but you let it go. 

“Alright. Keep us posted.” 

“Will do. You know the drill.” 

“I sure do. I’ll relay the information to the team, tell your son you love him, and talk to you in a couple of weeks.” 

You can almost hear his smile. “Exactly. Talk soon.”

“Be safe, Aaron.” 

“Hey, before you go,” he says. “Can you, um -” 

You smile, tracing the wood grain on his desk. “I’ll tell Haley you said Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.”

+++

Jess’s hand only shakes a little as she lights the candle and holds the cupcake between the three of you. While she takes care of the cake and begins to sing with Jack, you hold the camera, filming the impromptu party so Aaron can see it when he comes home.

“Okay, Jack you have to help Mom blow out the candle,” Jess says, holding the cupcake in front of him. With a great amount of glee, Jack extinguishes the candle with a big breath and a laugh. 

You turn the camera on Jess, who says, “We couldn't let Haley’s forty-first go unrecognized - she’s officially old and we had to let her know.” 

With a laugh of your own, you turn the camera around and wave before turning it off. 

“Can I eat the cake now?” Jack asks. 

Jess nods, pulling the candle and setting it aside on your picnic blanket. “Of course, but after we eat some fruit, okay? I don’t want the ants to get to the basket before you do.” 

The July sunshine beats down on the three of you, picnicking beside Haley’s resting place. It is, in fact, her forty-first birthday. You can only imagine the look on her face she would have adopt when you reminded her of her age. 

“Oh please,” she’d say. “When you get to be as old as me, you’ll never hear the end of it.” 

Jack sits in the sun, munching on a little apple slice. You reach over, rubbing a little splotch of sunscreen into his skin. He already has a little sunburn from your adventure to the District earlier in the week and you’re not about to make your life even harder. 

Aaron’s absence, even in its fourth month, is glaring. Jack has mostly stopped waking in the middle of the night looking for him and having regular meltdowns, but he always looks up when the front door opens with an expectant look that breaks your heart. He’s an adaptable kid, but months without contact from his father have taken their toll. If you’re honest, it surprised you a little bit. 

With a little bit of perspective, months are different than days, or even a week or two. Jack relies on Aaron more than you realized and the difficulty of helping Jess where you can has only further illuminated your ignorance.

“Will Mom always have a birthday?” Jack asks. 

Jess looks over at him. “What do you mean?”

He thinks for a moment, a little pensive. “I mean, because she’s not here. Do people who aren’t here still have birthdays?” 

“They do,” she replies. “That’s why we have to celebrate for them. They aren’t here, but it’s still special.” 

He nods, a kind of understanding look on his face that makes you think he knows exactly what that means. 

+++

“Yeah?”

You smile. It’s been a minute since you heard his voice, over the phone or otherwise. “Hey, Dr. Reid. How’s Vegas?”

“Hot. But it’s nice to be home.”

“How’s your mom?” You trace aimless patterns over the mat on Aaron’s desk, watching the suede imprint and erase as you go.

He sighs. “She’s alright. I think she’s about ready to kick me out, though.”

“It’s only been three weeks,” you laugh. “Surely you can make yourself useful?”

“I sent in her most recent publication to the journal, so I’ve outgrown my use until I find her a new thesis.”

You can almost see it - the two geniuses, mother and son, bickering over a game of chess or fourteenth-century novel. “Better find her a new thesis, then.”

Spencer’s thin smile is audible through the phone. “Guess so. How are things over there?”

“It’s a little hectic. It’s just me, JJ, Morgan, and Rossi now. Penelope’s still working with us regularly, but counter-terrorism keeps pulling her for ‘special projects,’ whatever that means.”

You don’t mean to guilt him into coming back or anything - you know he needs the time to recharge. He’ll come back when he wants to or feels he needs to but at this point, there’s hardly a difference between four and five agents on the team. You need Aaron. And Emily.

“With the amount of summer task forces coalescing, that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses. “I’ll probably spend a few more weeks here unless there are any developments between now and then.”

By developments, you know it means any confirmed sighting of your target. “That sounds like a plan. We’ll be glad to have you back but take your time. You’ve more than earned it.”

“Thanks.”

+++ august 2011 +++

“How’s Jack?” 

“He’s doing alright,” you tell him. “He misses you.” 

I miss you.

Aaron sighs. There isn’t time for everything he wants to say, even less for the things he could. “I’m probably going to miss his first day.” 

“That’s what I figured.” It's hard to think about and probably going to be harder than you can imagine, especially if there’s a case that takes you away from home. “Jess will take lots of pictures and I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you all about it when you get home.” 

It’s hard to keep the bitterness from your voice, but neither one of you could have anticipated this would go on for this long. ‘Over the summer’ seems a little abstract until the end of the summer arrives. 

This isn’t his fault. It isn’t. You know that. 

But it’s his fault for going in the first place. 

Conceptual anger isn’t useful. That’s another thing of which you’re keenly aware. 

And yet…

“Thank you for being there for them,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind. “I know this isn’t easy.” 

There’s nothing you can really say, but you hum anyway. 

The pair of you are just eating satellite time now, so you say goodbye and good luck before tipping your head back against his office chair. 

When the tears slip down your cheeks, you’re not sure if you miss him more than you’re mad at him or the other way around. 

+++

“Chief Strauss?” You knock lightly on her door and she beckons you in, just finishing up a phone call. She gestures to the little sitting area in the corner of her office, and you make yourself comfortable on one of the couches.

She hangs up and joins you. “Have you thought more about the offer?”

“I have. Thank you for your patience. I know it’s been a little while since we first spoke about it.”

Erin waves her hands, brushing off the implied apology. “The BAU’s work in the last few weeks has been exemplary. I’m impressed, especially considering the significant funding and personnel obstacles you’re facing at the moment.”

You laugh a little.  “I hope that doesn’t make anyone think working with this many people is acceptable, ma’am.”

“No,” she assures you. “I’ve made that very clear.”

There’s a small moment of silence before you speak again.

“I won’t be accepting the position in Los Angeles.”

Strauss sighs but doesn’t look surprised. “That’s as I expected. I will, however, add something that I did not share with you before to further inform your choice.”

You sit up a little straighter, a little more attentive.

“The push for a transfer is also in an effort to protect your reputation. I know the BAU has continued investigating Ian Doyle and while that is noble, it could go very wrong. And that much is above my head. DHS, ATF, NSA - they could all be upset by your unofficial involvement. This could go as high as Congress and could result in your permanent termination from the bureau, making you ineligible for work in federal law enforcement.”

“Yes, ma’am. High risk, high reward.” You shrug. “Or at least, that’s what Dr. Reid tells me.”

A wan smile pulls at her mouth. “Yes. As long as you’re comfortable with the consequences.”

“I am, ma’am.”

“Good.”

+++ september 2011 +++

“Alright, buddy! You ready to go?” 

Jack adjusts the straps on his little backpack while Jess finishes putting his lunch together. “I’m ready. Just need lunch.” 

“It’s right here!” Jess says, bringing his Captain America lunchbox to him and strapping it to the outside of his backpack. “You’ve got a ham and cheese sandwich, a juice box, some carrots, and a brownie. Does that sound okay?” 

He nods. 

“And if it’s not enough, we can always get some more food after school okay? It can be a special treat.” 

Jack grins and you all head off to the car together. 

+++

The little meltdown arrives when you and Jess move to leave him at the door of his classroom. Jack’s brown eyes get wide and rapidly fill with tears as soon as you take a step away from him. 

“Jack, baby, c’mere.” You drop to your knee and open your arms. He steps into them and you can feel his shaky, hiccuping breaths against your shoulder. 

While you hold him, you hear Jess debriefing his new teacher about their current situation, and the way things are in general. Dad in Pakistan, dead mom, goes by Jack rather than Jonathan, the whole nine. 

“You are so brave,” you whisper into his hair. “You are so smart. You are a good friend and you are safe.” 

He nods. 

“I’m so sorry your dad can’t be here, honey, but he’s going to be so excited to hear all about it as soon as he gets home. And I'll tell him how brave you are on our next secret superhero phone call.” 

‘Secret superhero phone call’ was the best way you could describe using the sat phone (and why Jack couldn't talk to Aaron himself) so you just went with it. 

Jack nods again, sniffling a little and pulling back. You reach for him, wiping his tears with your thumbs. 

“I love you so much, bud.” 

“I love you, too.” 

You kiss his forehead, reminding him, “I might have to get on a plane for work, but otherwise I’ll see you after you’re done with your first-ever day of school, okay? This is so exciting!”

He finally smiles, and your work is done. When he steps into the classroom, he doesn’t look back.

+++

Thankfully, you’re not pulled for another case until the end of the week, so you’re able to see Jack through his first-ever week of school. 

It hits you more than once that you’re the person next to Jess right now while he hits these milestones. Long gone is that toddler that would giggle in his mother’s arms as she danced around the living room to Hall and Oates. In his place is an insightful little boy with a rapidly burgeoning sense of humor and a wickedly kind smile. 

You love him.

+++ 

The entire team got an emergency call, so you're all gathered in the roundtable room when Aaron walks in, looking all the worse for wear and -

Is that a beard?

Wait. He’s back. 

You just spoke to him on Monday, with news of a “few more weeks,” even in the face of developments on the Doyle case.

Fucking bastard knew he was coming home, didn’t he?

All of your joy in seeing him evaporates, and you narrow your eyes at him. Just like the last time you were in this room together, there’s an apology in his gaze. 

“Welcome back.” Derek doesn’t sound surprised, and your head whips toward him. He doesn’t look at you. 

Unbelievable. 

“Thanks. Everyone, have a seat.” You follow Aaron’s instructions, and sit, crossing your arms. It’s childish, sure, but the balance of personal and professional life has flown out the window. 

This feels like a personal slight, rather than a professional one. You try to push it away, but it lingers in your sternum like a lit flare. It’s uncomfortable, and you hate it. 

“Why?” Derek sounds a little concerned. Your anger cools a little bit. Derek doesn't actually know anything. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team.” You notice, brow furrowed, that JJ stands beside Hotch like an ally. They both have odd looks on their faces. “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle.”

No. 

“The doctors were able to stabilize her. She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.” 

No. 

“Her identity was strictly need-to-know. She stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.” 

No. 

There’s silence, and you can’t tear your eyes from Aaron.  

“She’s alive?”

“We buried her...” 

Penelope and Spencer’s comments rush past you and you feel much like you did in the waiting room on that horrible, horrible night seven months ago. 

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” 

His eyes finally meet yours, and you find your vision blurred. You blink away your tears. 

It was a necessary lie. 

You go into this business expecting to be lied to. 

Not by Aaron. 

That’s not the issue and you know it. He left. 

He missed Jack’s first day of school. He was gone for five months. 

He left us. 

“Any issues?” Derek’s disbelief is marred by hurt, but you can’t reassure him through your own shock. “Yeah, I got issues.”

He’s cut off by Penelope’s glance toward the doorway. 

The team, save for JJ and Hotch, rushes toward her. You’re stuck to your seat until she approaches you. At her touch, you come back to life, throwing yourself into her arms. Her name sounds strangled leaving your mouth. “Emily.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Her grip on you is tight, but your arms, looped around her shoulders, don’t feel like they’re attached to your body. 

She lets you go and continues to speak. Derek’s frozen, and you can’t imagine for a minute what’s going on in his head. Emily wraps around him. He’s stock still, his eyes misty. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he brings his hand to her shoulder, his cheek falling onto the side of her head. 

It’s back to business faster than you can blink, and now you’re sure you’re not the only one ready to kill Aaron where he stands. Derek is livid. 

They stare at each other while Spencer starts asking questions. Eventually, they focus back. Aaron crosses to you, contributing where necessary. 

You don’t acknowledge him. It’s horrible. You hate being so angry with him, but there’s nothing to be done. 

You can’t be upset at him about Emily. There’s too much to understand, and yet the initial shock of it is like a never-ending bucket of cold water poured over your body. 

Selfishly, you realize you’re upset with him because he didn’t tell you he was coming home. It’s so small when there are other, much bigger, issues to address. 

Emily’s lie is professional. Just part of the job. This one feels personal.

You’re a child. Let it go. 

He knew and he left. 

He missed Haley's birthday.

He knew and he left. 

He shouldn't have gone. 

He didn’t tell you he was coming home.

[musicallisto]

Ψ — 𝐜𝐨́𝐦𝐨 𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫; (leo valdez x reader)

@fives-cup-of-coffee​ requested: Hi can I please get Leo Valdez (Hoo) + number 142? Tysm,bb ! Love your blog💗💗 song: morat - cómo te atreves | 𝄞

summary: In which Leo Valdez was having a good day. That is, of course, until you showed up.

word count: 1.9k author notes: at first I wanted to make it light-hearted & comical as the song would suggest and then it progressively got more serious and angstier and then I just have no idea where it went lol I hate it here. I hope you like this! + stan Morat they’re amazing warnings: there’s like one bad word in Spanish and I hope it’s not too Spaniard bc I looked everywhere for a Mexican equivalent of “cagüendios” asdjdj Mexicans please correct me

𝐋𝐄𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐙 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 have had the boldness of saying he was having a good day. No bloodthirsty monster nor megalomaniac Titan had decided to take over the world or rip him to pieces; he hadn’t had to dodge a meteor or plunge into the heart of a volcano; and to top it all off, he had not heard Percy sing once.

No, really, despite the cold, biting wind that froze the February morning, Leo Valdez was having a good day.

That is, of course, until you showed up.

Maybe it was his wind-swept curls blocking his eyes, maybe it was the whirring of Festus’ mechanical breathing under his fingertips, maybe it was the total peace of mind that inhabited him as he whistled to himself, but he had been impervious to his surroundings, surrendered to the memory of his aerial stroll with Calypso earlier in the morning, completely devoted to patching the dragon’s attrition up, so much so that he hadn’t heard you approaching at all. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your visit after this many years, especially not on a cold morning in the woods of Long Island.

“Leo?”

“Woah, buddy, your clicks are starting to sound more and more like a real human voice. I might have to celebrate your first word soon.”

“Leo Valdez, behind you.”

He whirled around, and stupidly enough, the first thought that went through his mind was disappointment—so Festus wasn’t learning human communication after all, despite his best efforts. But when Leo pushed the hair out of his face and devised for the first time in four years your slightly embarrassed figure, hands buried in your pockets and abashed smile on your face, he couldn’t stop his jaw and heart from dropping.

So the suspect, gravelly grunt he had heard just before was not Festus protesting—duly noted. It was you, impatiently—and rather awkwardly—scratching your throat to catch his attention... You! After four years!

“Y/N?” he called out, and the way your name rolled off his tongue, with incredulity yet ease, was enough to remind you of how familiar his voice had once been.

“In the flesh. Ta-da,” you tentatively exclaimed, unsure about whether you should step toward him.

Leo seemed just as lost and confused as you were, eyeing you without truly processing it. No one, nothing had ever prepared him to face the return of someone he’d loved so dearly after losing them for so long. No prophecy had foretold any of this, no mischievous god had ever sent a cryptic message in a dream or smoke patterns. One day he had more or less started to accept the unshakeable hole you had dug in his heart when you left, and that he had tried to fill up as well as he could with new memories and songs and adventures — and the next you were waltzing back into his life as though he hadn’t spent the better part of four years struggling to forget you?

He took a small step forward without realizing it, but his body language read all but cordiality. A bubble of irritation started to form in the pit of his stomach and throat; he had started to fidget with his adjustable spanner.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Behind him, Festus grated, a low and rumbling sound like still water stirring upon the approach of a storm. Leo swore he heard his heartbeats echoed in the loyal beast’s enormous ribcage.

“What do you want from me, Y/N? Haven’t you done enough?”

Oh, you had done more than enough. When you were friends and he had first fallen for you — you had mended his broken heart, stayed by his side as everyone went on to celebrate life and renewal and he was stuck in the downpour that Calypso’s first departure had wreaked. That was more than enough. When you were just a little more than friends and he had started to learn anew, step by step, what it meant to love, and first and foremost let himself be loved — you had been patient and kind, you had walked hand in hand with him on the road to healing, never pushing him to go further than he could. That was more than enough. When you were definitely more than friends, and he had found himself falling deeper in love with you with each passing day — you had loved him all the same, or so you promised, and made his every day an adventure and a safe embrace like no other. That was more than he ever deserved.

When you had left without warning for some foreign place on the other side of the world, leaving him only a note and a handful of colored glass shards, never to give a sign of life in four years...

That was more than enough.

You had dared to take one step forward, palms outstretched as if you were calming a wild animal. A frenzy of conflicting flames bubbled in Leo’s stomach — you were a stranger now to him, and he was once again happy with Calypso. Then why did he get the overwhelming urge to jump into your arms and rediscover the sweetness of your embrace?

“I’m so sorry, Leo, I never wanted to leave, I truly didn’t, but you have to understand —”

“Understand what? That whatever business you had to attend to was more important than me? That I meant so little to you that you just left me a post-it note with a sad smiley face on it and never came back? You didn’t send a word in four years! I bet you didn’t even think about me on February 29th!”

“Actually I left in April, but —”

“Can you imagine how hard it was for me to get over you? To forget you? No, scratch that—I haven’t forgotten you, no matter how hard I try to convince myself. But I was doing just fine, and you have a whole lotta nerve coming back now that I’m finally happy without you! ¡Pues huevos! ¡Al carajo todo esto!”

And he went on and on in a string of all the curses he’d remembered from when his mother argued on the phone, his cheeks reddening progressively, his breath faltering.

You stayed immobile, just an arms’ length apart from him until he had spewed out everything he’d carried for years. His chest trembled, shuddering at all the dust and waste it had swept under the rug, now displayed in full light before him; and you ached for him, underneath your cool composure, you truly did, just as you had ached yourself when you had left. How could you not? Leo had been light and warmth and fire and a comforting smell of smoke and gasoline and coffee-stained fingertips on your cheek and your neck... and most of all, the heart you would least have wanted to break.

“Leo...”

You murmured his name a few more times, until he looked up at you. Oh, that face, red and weepy and distorted by rage and overwhelm! How you hated it in those moments, like a cheap mask over a Roman statue!

“Leo, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but trust me, I would never have done that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“What was, Y/N? What was more important than me?”

“I... I can’t tell you, Leo. I would if I could, but — “

“Of course! Even after four years, you’re still so full of secrets!”

“Jupiter told me not to say anything. To anyone.”

Leo’s parted lips, already fuming with more witty remarks, closed shut, and his chocolate eyes widened. The god of gods’ name was always enough to temper even the most boisterous of heroes’ fumes of anger, but not Leo’s erratic heart.

“Jupiter?”

“I got a mission from the gods. That’s why I left. To Rome. But they made me swear I didn’t say anything... not even an excuse.”

Leo swallowed, with difficulty, as if the information was a toxic flame permeating his throat. Before he could even register it, you continued, breathing deeply to steady your breathing:

“I owe you more than an apology... an explanation, at least. If you want to hear it... meet me in the woods at the gate of Camp Half-Blood at sundown. I’d understand if you didn’t come, but... just know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

For a split second, you were traversed by the thought, almost automatic, of leaning over to kiss Leo’s cheek, just like you had done it thousands of times to wish him goodbye; but you cut your impulses fast enough, only staring at his eyes for a few long minutes of dumbfounded silence before you turned on your heels and left.

In a single blink, the wind had caught your silhouette and carried it into the shadows of the trees.

And Leo stood there, colder than he would have admitted, motionless and partly oblivious to Festus’ impatient whirring over his shoulder. His chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker than the leaves rustling in the breeze; it had dried in his eyes too much for any tears to well up, despite the painful pang spreading in his chest. Had it not been for the weight in his ribcage, he could’ve believed you were but a ghost in the forest...

When you had left him without a word nor even a glimpse of a smile, Jason had admonished him to be brave and stronger than whatever misery you had inflicted; to not let any of your little games gnaw at his head and drive him wild. It was how Jason had always dealt with heartbreak and hardship because he was built of cold marble and electric stone; but despite Leo’s best efforts to follow his advice, he was Hephaestus’s son. Neither of them was exactly known for their fine handling of matters of the heart...

He had believed his inalterable strength would come back to him with Calypso. It was an endless ebb and flow between the two of you, each consoling him after the other left and tore a little piece of his heart. She had promised she’d be better — better than you, or than herself the first time around, he didn’t know, but he had believed her all the same.

But maybe what Leo had mistakenly taken for strength when he laughed himself to death with Calypso and captured her entirely with his lips, might have been solely absence. He had always had a knack for following in your steps... just like you had slipped from his embrace without a word, he had disappeared from himself imperceptibly.

Maybe he loved Calypso, truly and sincerely... but not in the way that allowed him to find himself.

Well, to hell with courage, with Jason’s heroic virtue and rectitude. Leo was realizing just then that the reason he clung so desperately to your memory was that he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet, and if it made him a coward, he accepted the fate with open arms.

“Come on, buddy,” Leo exhaled, a little shaky still. “Let’s get you patched up before sundown.”

Maybe it was a good day after all.

Or just a less-than-awful one at the very least.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee​​ @softeninglooks​​ (all my writing) / @lxncelot​​ (Riordanverse)

[aalissy]

Stay

Andddd this is the end!! This is the last chapter for Adrienette April <3. I certainly hope you guys enjoyed reading it bc I had a great time writing it. It DOES contain Gang of Secrets spoilers so don’t read this if you haven’t seen that episode :). Lemme know what you think of this chapter or what you thought of the whole month tho hahah <3. I’ll see you all in my Marichat May drabbles :) 

AO3

Marinette sniffled, gazing down at her bedroom floor that she had collapsed on. Everything had just been so much lately. Being both Ladybug and the guardian was almost impossible. Her phone buzzed incessantly on her desk but she ignored it, drowning in both stress and guilt. The kwamis snuggled around her, whispering reassurances in her ears but she huddled in on herself, laying down on the cold tiles. She didn’t even hear the knock on her trapdoor, only snapping back into awareness when the kwamis jolted away from her, phasing back into where she hid the Miracle Box.

Quickly, Marinette sat back up when the hatch opened, trying to scrub any remaining tear tracks from her eyes. She heard a voice call out her name hesitantly before she saw Adrien’s head pop up, “Marinette?”

She grimaced, swiping the heel of her hand against her smeared mascara. What was he even doing here? Adrien rarely stopped by the bakery, let alone her bedroom. Reaching for her phone, she winced at the number of text messages that greeted her.

“Oh my god, Marinette...” Adrien gasped before collapsing next to her. “Are you alright?! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” She swallowed the harsh lump in her throat to give him a weak smile. “What are you doing here?”

He frowned at her, looking over her concernedly. “Alya asked me to come check on you. She said you weren’t answering your phone and I was the closest one to the bakery.”

“Of course she did,” she murmured, glancing down at her phone with a small smile. She could always count on her best friend to find a way to bring her back. She had done an even better job after Marinette told her she was Ladybug. She then gave herself a mental reminder to call Alya back as soon as she was able to.

She blinked up with some shock and slight panic as Adrien stood up. His frown had deepened further and he opened his mouth to say something when she quickly reached out. Marinette clutched his wrist rather desperately, nibbling on her lower lip. Slowly, she moved her hand down to hold his tightly, murmuring, “Stay, please. Don’t go.”

Adrien lowered himself back down to crouch beside her, squeezing her hand in his. “I wasn’t going to, Marinette. I promise.”

She gave him a watery smile, sniffling quietly. She scooted closer to him, whispering a quiet, “Thank you.”

Instead of responding, Adrien simply opened his arms to her and she immediately dove into his embrace. Marinette clenched her eyes shut tight, savoring the warmth and safety she felt as he held her to him. She nuzzled her head closer to him, letting out a quiet, happy sigh. Slowly, the pain and guilt from before ebbed away and she could finally relax.

She stayed like that for a few more minutes, content to stay exactly where she was for the rest of her life. Adrien gave some of the best hugs ever. Second only to Chat Noir. Slowly, Marinette pulled back, blinking away any last remaining tears. She gave him another wobbly smile before she worried at her lower lip. “I’m sorry about that. I had a long day today and I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”

Adrien’s look softened as he shook his head. “You never have to apologize, Marinette. I’m just glad you’re okay. Can you tell me what happened? I’d love to try and fix it for you if I can!”

His face was so eager to help and to please that she realized exactly why she fell in love with him once again. He was amazing. Marinette’s smile froze, however, when she realized that there wasn’t anything she could tell him. All of her problems were due to being both Ladybug and the guardian. She couldn’t risk her secret identity again. Especially not when she already knew the repercussions of Adrien knowing. Shuddering at the thought of Chat Blanc, she slowly shook her head. “I-I can’t tell you, Adrien. I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” He frowned at her in confusion as his head tilted adorably. “Why not?”

Marinette sighed quietly, tapping her two index fingers together as her gaze darted around. She couldn’t exactly explain that she had a secret identity that she had to protect. It was too risky with just Alya knowing. Nor could she tell him that she was Ladybug and the recent akuma attacks had left her without any free time to work on schoolwork or spend time with her friends.

She ran a hand through her hair as she blew out a harsh breath. Deciding to skirt around the problem, she murmured, “I’ve just been really stressed lately, Adrien. I haven’t had much free time to finish my homework or even go to the movies with any of my friends.”

Adrien nodded understandingly, “I get it, Marinette. Having a full schedule can be impossible. I’m sorry that you have to go through that.”

A look of realization and admiration lit across her face. Of course he gets it. Maybe not to the extent of having a double life to hide from everyone... but Adrien has certainly had to deal with a full plate before. Marinette gave him another shaky smile before throwing herself into his arms. This was exactly what she needed. Someone who understands and knows what she’s dealing with.

Quietly, she murmured, “Thank you, Adrien. You have no idea how much that means to me. S-so, how do you do it? How do you handle dealing with almost no free time?”

One of his hands came up to rub her back gently. Marinette’s eyes shut tight as her smile grew wider. If she hadn’t already been in love with him, she would have definitely fallen right there and then. How could one boy be so perfect for her and yet be so out of her league? It just wasn’t fair.

Adrien’s breath brushed against her ear as she shivered lightly. Softly, he whispered to her, “I focus on the things that are most important to me. I suffer through my responsibilities for a chance to finally be able to hang out with my friends and do the things that make me the happiest. You need to really relax and let loose in the free time you do have. And I also keep in mind that I have people who love and care about me and will always be there no matter what. Just like you, Marinette. Don’t forget that.”

Her lower lip wobbled as she tried to suppress the tears that were threatening to spill from the corners of her shut eyes. He always knew just what to say. She gave Adrien one last, tight squeeze before pulling back, looking at him rather adoringly. Swiping any stray tears away, she gave him a bright smile. “I won’t. I promise.”

She stood up slowly before leaning down to offer him a hand up. Her heart fluttered as he gave her a crooked grin back. She really had to give Alya that call thanking her because this was the best thing she could have done. Nibbling on her lower lip, Marinette said, “Thank you for staying, Adrien. You really turned a bad day into a perfect one.”

He gave her a soft look, patting her on the shoulder. “Of course, Marinette. I’m always here, whenever you need me. I’ll always just be a phone call away.”

Biting harshly on her lower lip, she ached to tell him her actual secret. How could this boy have ever told someone about her secret identity? He was just so sweet. Eventually, Marinette simply breathed in deeply, deciding that she’d tell him as soon as Hawkmoth was defeated. Peering up at him from beneath her lashes, she murmured, “I’ll be sure to remember that. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, though.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed at that. “You don’t need to apologize for that, Marinette. I like spending time with you. Especially if I can help you feel better.”

She glanced down, her cheeks dusted a light pink. “D-do you have time to play a game of Ultimate Mecha Strike III, or do you need to go?”

“I think I have time for one game. As long as you’re prepared to lose. I’ve been practicing.” He gave her a smug smirk.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed playfully as she said, “You’re on!”

With that, they both slid into the desk chairs and booted up the game. Her fingers slid across the controls with practiced ease as she and Adrien fought. Once she had a comfortable lead, her eyes slid over to him. One thing was for absolute certainty after today. She would never truly be over Adrien Agreste. A part of her would always love him. As she defeated him and he screamed for a rematch, Marinette slowly relaxed. He was right. It was time for her to learn to calm down and enjoy her free time before the next mission. Giving him a smug smirk, she set them up for the rematch, certain that she’d beat him once again.