#ill see him today at the store and then this evening and then maybe Tomorrow at the store and then Tomorrow evening

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Turning Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, dark themes implied, oral (male receiving), body piercings, cum-eating, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune 📍AN: As a birthday gift to me (9-24) I am posting this hecka early. But also annoucing that there will not be another CIY posting until after October (most likely. who knows, i might get impatient myself) as ill be focusing on Kinktober and some fics i have planned for October! There are 6 chapters left (roughly) so please enjoy <3

masterlist | Previous | Next

Three weeks. Three weeks had gone by and you had to admit, you missed them. Well, some of them. Wooyoung’s incessant need for you. San and his flirting- his dimples. Yeosang’s cute little lisp and the sound of him tapping away on his keyboard. Hell you even missed hearing Mingi fuck others and keeping you awake at night. You might even miss Jongho’s constant scowl in your presence.

Seonghwa had been taking you to and from the club every night, five nights a week, and would tell you to rest the other two. You wouldn’t come into the office but now you wanted to. Maybe then you could do something about this odd bundle of emotions in your stomach. Yeosang sent you instructions on how to fill out a report of your undercover work on the program he installed in your laptop, which automatically stored the vital information and categorized and compared it with the rest. So in short, now you couldn’t even tell them about the new rumors you’ve picked up at the club.

At least now you knew why they were so busy, far too busy for you. The Vipers and the Wolves were still at each other’s throat, fucking up cash grabs, stealing product, or raiding known businesses of the other. San told you he was cleared to head back to fighting soon, and it worried you that the Wolves would hit the fighting ring while he was there.

But, what could you do about it? Undercover work was something that took months to years to gain enough influence to make a difference. You were nothing more than a fly on the wall gathering information, searching for weaknesses to use against the big players. A slip up that could get them behind bars.

Once more you thought of the dead boy in the alley. Once more you pictured someone else as that dead body. And once more you realized that, as a detective, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It was a frustrating feeling.

And that’s why you found yourself heading to the gym on your next free day, ready to punch the frustration out or work up enough of a sweat that your muscles would be screaming at you until tomorrow.

It was a nice sweet surprise to find Hongjoong there, working on one of the machines, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare arms and calves. He was wearing a hat, black tank and black gym shorts with an airpod in as he was chatting with someone. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you got close enough to hear his conversation, you frowned at how quick he hung up when he did notice you. “I’ll call you back later.” The weights dropped as he let go of the handles to turn the call off, shifting to look up at you with a bright and charming smile despite your deepening frown. “Firecracker, lovely to see you here.”

“Cut the bullshit” you weren’t having it today. Had the three weeks away changed something? Had your observations just been wishful thinking? Why was he hiding things from you? They still didn’t trust you fully did they? Ah, that hurt. Hongjoong seemed to catch on by your tone and stance, the smile softening to something more genuinely welcoming. “It was San, he was giving me an update on the Vipers I-” “Am I not allowed to hear what you had to say?” You cut him off, still staring him down. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, you really shouldn’t.

But Hongjoong seemed good at reading you, reaching out and holding his hand palm up. “Would it ease your mind to know what is going on? What he was telling me? Or can I ask you to trust me on this, and you can learn all about it later?” You stared at his hand for a moment, eyes running up his arm to the tattoos that covered his bicep. Briefly you glanced at the ink before meeting his eyes. “It’s a delicate matter?” You decided to ask, arms uncrossing to rest at your sides. “Yes. The war they have going on is turning into a bloodbath.” He didn’t elaborate, just smiled wider when you did take his hand finally. Gently he pulled you closer.

Relaxing a bit further, you let him. He didn’t need to explain, because you realized what he meant. The Vipers were losing everything, and the Wolves would take what they could from them. Killing, maiming, or selling off each member or even associate. “I see… what are we doing about it?” He lifted a brow at your choice of words, pulling you right between his knees and holding both of your hands. You don’t know why he insisted on this sort of touch, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Nothing we can do. We can’t pull San out safely, but there isn’t a way we can stop the Wolves either. Not without risking more. Did you come here to blow off some steam? Worried about him?” Slowly you nodded, staring at your joined hands. “I don’t want to punch anything, just not think. The Boas don’t care much for either, but I hear how ruthless the Wolves are. They’re scared of them much more than the Vipers and-” Your words were cut off as he pulled you onto his lap. “Captain?” “How do you think San can get out of this unscathed? I’m worried too, Firecracker, and even if we can’t do much, it’s better to have some hope that something can happen to save him. Right?” He was comforting you, wasn’t he? The notion had your cheeks warming, mind shifting to the question. With everything you knew, what needed to happen for San to be truly safe from the Wolves? “I… well the Vipers are no match for the Wolves alone but if they had help… then San’s chances of- well you know. The Guardians are the only ones who can stop the Wolves, but I don’t see how they would get involved. Not unless this war causes significantly more damage, or they believe it will.” Your original thought was the Guardians getting rid of the Wolves anyways. After all, the more you learned about them, the more you realized that the biggest, scariest monster out there was the Wolves. The Vipers would be easier to take down, same with the Goblins. The Golden Circle could just be bought out, most of them just greedy cowards. And the Guardians and Pirates? They cared more for regulation to an extent than chaos.

The Wolves enjoy being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Sadists, killers, men who wanted to see the world burn and wanted to be the hands responsible for it. People were toys to them. Ones they wanted to break and use any way they saw fit.

You’d rather see San with his busted lip and black eye from a fight in the ring rather than the possible torture the Wolves would put him through. “The Wolves won’t stop until every last Viper is dead or turned to them or sold. I’d rather the Vipers win, and that can't happen without the Guardians. Either working together or the Guardians step in to apply pressure to the Wolves to back them off.” Hongjoong’s sudden bright smile threw you off and you were on your feet in a second. “What?” He chuckled, just to pull you back down with enough force you tumbled into him, hands on his chest and lips suddenly on his. He swallowed up your squeak, pulling you fully onto his lap as his tongue sought yours. You hadn’t expected it, but he tasted so good that you didn’t want to pull away. Yet as soon as melted into him, he was separating your mouths. “You really are a genius, I think. That’s something we never thought of.” You blushed at his compliment, staring up at him as his fingers carded through your hair. “What ideas did you have?” “Ones that involved what the Vipers alone could do, or we as detectives. Sometimes we forget to take a step back and see all this from a different angle.” “I see… but can we really do anything like that?” He shrugged. “We could have Wooyoung or San suggest it. If the Vipers are smart, and want to survive, they’ll latch onto that idea hopefully before it’s too late.” Pride swelled through you, as well as respect. Hongjoong did respect you, to go from easing your worries, to turning your thoughts into something productive, and then backing your idea as an equal. All while he was kissing you, touching you, melting you in his arms like you were his lover.

“Captain-” “Please call me Hongjoong, or something like that outside the office. Especially when you’re in my arms like this.” He stopped you, arm tightening on your waist while his other hand massaged your scalp a bit. He chuckled at the pleased sound you made at the touch.

“H-Hongjoong… did Seonghwa- ah Hwa- tell you about…” You trailed off, eyelids getting heavy the more you relaxed in his embrace. He nodded. “S-so you know how much this means to me?” “I do, Firecracker. And he told you how things work, and his unofficial invitation?” When you nodded, his hand tightened in your hair enough to pull an unexpected moan from your lips. “I’m going to take how pliant you are in my arms as an acceptance of that if you keep this up. Wooyoung might be the most vocal about his desire for you, but I feel it just as intensely.” Your hands gripped his tank tightly, lips parted as you enjoyed the way he was getting a bit rough with your hair. Massage, then tug. Smooth then tug harder. “Then why pull me onto your lap?” “To treasure you, though I didn’t think you would let me.” He admitted, shifting you on his thighs a bit until you could feel his hard on against the side of your thigh. “Yeosang is going to get another show at this rate.” Laughing under your breath softly, you shifted on his lap. “Good. I’m not too happy about him telling you all about San and Chan. He likes to watch and then run his mouth to you all? I should show him what he’s going to miss because he’s always hiding behind those screens.” Detaching yourself from Hongjoong, you stood back up between his legs, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders to card your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, just under the cap. Latching your lips onto his to keep him from questioning you, your mind wandered to Yeosang and the expressions he made when he had been watching you and Wooyoung. Would he make those now? Better yet… What expressions would Hongjoong make?

With your lips still attached, brushing over his soft ones, letting him chase yours with each stroke, your hands ran down his chest. His shirt stuck to him with damp sweat, muscles tensing under your fingertips: first over his pecs, which had a nice curve to them, and then over his stomach. The lower they got, the more desperate his lips on yours.

The sound he made, the breathy whine as you cupped his sizable bulge in his shorts, turned you on even more. So eager to see just how far you could push him.

In a way, this was your first time initiating with them. As you slipped down onto your knees, palming at his hardening cock through the material of his shorts, you acknowledged the fact he hadn’t asked for this, or done much to make you want him: you just wanted him, and wanted to do this. Wooyoung had begged and begged. And Mingi had wanted to prove to you how much he wanted you. You just let them have the opportunity, reaping the ecstasy they gave you. And as much as you loved taking what they had to offer, you wanted to give back as well. In particular to the man before you. The man who was trying so hard not to pull your hair too much. Who was gripping the seat beneath him as his hips rolled up into your hands, pretty lips parted and swallowed from your kisses.

If Hongjoong had turned you away, or tried to block you at every turn like you had expected him to do before meeting him, you wouldn’t have this growing warmth in your heart at every thought of them. The swell of pride at your ongoing work. You wouldn’t have a confidant in San and Seonghwa. Wouldn’t have the eager lovers Wooyoung and Mingi. The witty banter of Yunho and Yeosang.

And perhaps, pressing your lips to where you could feel his tip twitching beneath the material, you wanted to convince them that they had to have you, just as you had to have them.

Selfish, greedy, maybe a little manipulative: that’s what you thought of yourself as you pulled his shorts down enough to expose his cock, staring up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Maybe you were all those things, but it was worth it as he tightened his hold on your strands significantly and pulled you against his cock, smearing the bit of precum and sweat on your lips and cheek, pleading with you. “Take what you want, gorgeous, I’m yours to use.”

How could you deny him- deny yourself- when he looked so delectable like this? 

Taking the invitation for what it was, your tongue ran up his length as your hands worked his pants down further. His words rang in your head, the adoration mixed with lust in his expression adding to the pit of emotions coursing through you.

With your lips wrapping around his tip, eyes focused on his expression, you marveled at the warm metal now clicking against your teeth. Quickly you pulled away and glanced down, breath hitching at the metal bar on the underside of his tip, right through the soft flesh in between the twi curves of his hood. “Oh fuck-” Mingi and him? Different places but you could remember how the piercing felt… if you took Hongjoong inside, you’d feel the metal scraping against your walls and the thought had you dripping in your underwear.

Wanting him to want that just as much, you took him back in your mouth, humming as you quickly took as much of him as you could. His eyes rolled back momentarily, breath hitching and fingers curling in your hair. He could fuck your mouth right now and you’d let him.

You’d let him do a lot of things if he continued to let out sweet whines like the one that just fell from his pretty lips. He wasn’t small, but definitely not Mingi’s size. But Hongjoong never needed size to get his point across, or for you to notice him- there was much more about him and the man utilized that to command a room and gain a grip on anyone he wished. 

Right now you were the one in his grip, both figuratively and literally, as you pushed his shorts down and spread his thighs wider. Shuffling a bit closer, you took more of him in, humming around his cock once more as it hit the back of your throat, nose so close to his pelvis, but you managed. The sweat didn’t bother you, neither did the feel of the hard floor under your knees, not when he seemed to be unraveling at your touch. You were enjoying him so much you swore you could suck him off for hours without a reprieve. So what if your throat was sore? If you were tasting his cum and sweat for hours after with every drink and food you devoured? Pressing your tongue up as you pulled off his length, sure to add even more pressure to the piercing and was rewarded with a whiny moan as his body reacted: hips bucking and hand tightening in your hair to hold you still.

Oh so it made him sensitive?

Bobbing your head back down, taking as much of his length as you felt comfortable with, you focused more attention on his tip. Every time you pulled away you added pressure, letting your teeth scrape against it or twisting your head just enough as you pushed back down.

Hongjoong was noisy, between high pitched pants, to low curses under his breath, his fingers in your hair a give away to what he liked best. You used that to your advantage, nails digging into the inside of his thighs when you realized he liked that.

“Ah- fuck- gorgeous- Gunna make me- mmm fuck fuck~” His head kept rolling back but he would push forward to watch you as much as he could, mouth hanging open, teeth clenching in little hisses of pleasure. You hummed and moaned around his cock, picking up pace and pressure as your own need was clouding your thoughts. Have him cum first then maybe you could convince him to fuck you in the showers.

Your nails dug into his thighs more when he started pushing you, just slightly as if guiding, down on his cock. His head rolled back again, moans gaining volume as your name and praise joined the sweet sounds.

In awe of him you nearly choked when his thick cum hit the back of your throat in spurts. You pushed away a bit, lips still latched onto his twitching tip as he emptied his pretty balls on your tongue.

He lifted his head once he was spent, panting heavily and meeting your gaze. He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop, your tongue lolling out to show the bit of cum still pooled there before you made a show of swallowing it.

“Fuck, Firecracker… I didn’t expect you to do this.” He smoothed out your hair, your scalp a little sensitive from how hard his grip had been.

Smiling, you rested your head on the inside of his knee, smoothing over the crescent marks you had made with your nails and admiring the piercing on his softening cock. “I wanted to. Wanted to show I want you too. I know I wasn’t as… vocal about it. Maybe with work but not in this way.” You tilted your head to look up at him, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. “If you have time… would the showers be private enough? I think Yeosang got enough of a show.” He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face before gently tapping your cheek. “I should. Stand up for me?” 

Once you did you watched as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Now you had a moment to admire the work on his arm, you liked learning about them and most people got tattoos that represented a part of them. Plus, tattoos were big in the underworld, often a way to show your rank or who you belonged to.

You noted a few portraits, black rimmed hats and masks, the eyes sharp. There were eight, you counted, surrounded by waves with… with a pirate boat detailed on the upper part of his arm. 

He called your name, moving just as you took note of a few letters on his arm. Sex was no longer on your mind, your brow furrowed as your mouth fell open to speak the first question that formed instead.

But the words were overshadowed by an alarm ringing through the gym and Hongjoong cursing. “Fuck- there’s an emergency.” He quickly pecked your cheek. “Head back to your apartment and wait for a call? I’ll let you know when everything’s okay.” He started grabbing his other things, but you were in shock.

The alarm turned off once he was gone but you were still rooted in place.

From the letters you had been able to make out, two of them had been “B” and “P”, just like Mingi had. 

Were they part of the Black Pirates? Were they… the enemy?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.���

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

  "What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

  *

  It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

[muldermuse]

A Hard Day: Fox Mulder X Reader

Today I had a hard day and I just want a fictional FBI agent to take care of me lol

A/N: References to poor mental health, depression, anxiety and crying.

If u have any prompts or Fox Mulder ideas pls send them my way honeyss

You had lost track of how long you had been sitting in the darkness. You had not taken your work clothes off and you were sitting upright staring at a wall. Your shirt was itchy and your shoes were tight but you had no energy to change into your pyjamas. Today was awful, that many things had gone wrong that it was bordering on slightly funny that it had been such a catastrophe. However, rather than laughing at the past ten hours, you felt completely numb and unable to process your emotions. You did not want to take care of yourself, that would be an effort and take energy that you currently did not possess.

The room was still, occasionally a flicker of light would scatter across the wall from the window overlooking the street. You considered staying like this all night, hoping that maybe your exhaustion would overcome your emotions and you’d pass out asleep without needing to move. You had struggled with your mental health for a while and you were largely in control of it, however, slip ups were natural and days like today reminded you of how far you’d come. Despite the sadness that weighed down your limbs, you appreciated that days like this were few and far between. That was largely due to medication, routine and your boyfriend, Fox Mulder.

Which reminded you, it was a Thursday and you had arranged for Fox to stay over. You had a Thursday routine of having a pre weekend bottle of beer, making a sandwich and eating chips in front of the TV until you both had to drag the other to bed. You’d chat idly about the week, a blanket covering you on your sofa as you watched the Golden Girls with his arm protectively over your shoulder. You loved it and whilst you saw him most weekends; there was something special about your Thursday tradition. It wouldn’t be fair on him to stay tonight, you didn’t want to cancel but you’d accepted your fate of sitting in your dark room and trying to keep your thoughts from getting more negative.

No answer, straight to his voicemail. “Hi Fox, I’m really sorry but can we reschedule? I think I’m coming down with something and don’t want you to get ill. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, love you.” Your voice was one note, you didn’t sound ill and he could read you like a book. Even over a voicemail, he’d be able to pick up on your tone and you hoped he wouldn’t question it. You decided to lie down on the sofa and wait for it to become a reasonable time to lie in bed.

***

The knock at the door scared the life out of you, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat as you tried to stop your hands trembling from the fright. You peered through the peephole even though you knew who it was; there stood Fox, his tie loose around his neck and clutching a brown grocery store bag. You exhaled deeply, willing your hands to stop shaking as you smiled before opening the door. He could see right through you but maybe it would be worth a shot.

“Hi,” your voice faltered, you needed to try and sound better than you did on the phone. “Didn’t you get my voicemail? I think I’m getting ill so it’s probably best you don’t stay tonight”. Your eyes trailed away from him as you finished your sentence; you couldn’t look at him as you lied. You felt your breathing start to become laboured as the hot prick of tears filled your eye line. You made your hands into fists; desperately trying to stop the tears from streaming down your face.

“No I got it,” his hand reached out to gently rub your shoulder but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Even if you’re ill, I just thought you could use some company. You sounded upset on the phone and I was worried”. Your kind boyfriend, your sweet and loving partner who knew you better than anyone else ever had. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and let him enter your apartment. He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he flicked the light on and walked past you. You let out a shuddered breath and followed him to the kitchen counter. With every step you took; you felt a sob begin to form at the top of your throat.

“So firstly, I think it’s rude of you to get ill on a Thursday,” he smirked as he began to open the grocery bag he had placed on the counter. “We both agree that it is the best day of the week and I refuse to let this illness take this away from us. I got that soup you like from the store on Woodland, you know the one where we saw those really suspiciously large footprints in the produce aisle? I’m still trying to convince Scully that it’s an X File” His face lit up as he laughed, god, you loved him. You so desperately wanted to laugh with him but you knew as soon as you opened your mouth your body would betray you and tears would run down your face. You smiled back and tried to bury down the flicker of concern you saw in his eyes.

“I thought I could warm the soup up and whilst you got changed or had a hot shower? We could just sit on the sofa and watch Golden Girls together or Cops, I mean whatever is on.” Before you could interrupt, he continued as he made his way over to you with his arms outstretched as he brought you against him for a hug. "Then, for later- I mean if you’re feeling well enough, I bought those sour candies you like? They only had the huge bags so I suppose if you’re feeling sick that it’s probably the worst thing I could have brought you but still I th-“. As he held you tightly in his arms, you felt the tears start to come and you choked out a huge sob. He just held you tighter as you cried, his hands ran through your hair as you wept and wept and wept until you felt you had no liquid left to leave your tear ducts. You had no idea how long he’d been holding you, his shirt was wet with tears and your throat felt raw from your sobbing.

“Did that help?” you stayed in his arms, trying to steady your breathing as you nodded. “Okay good, go for a shower, I’ll lie some clothes out on the bed and get the soup ready for you.” You didn’t speak, you just got on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his soft lips.

***

The shower helped more than you cared to admit. The hot water beating down on your skin seemed to strip away layers of your day and you felt yourself begin to breathe easier as your chest felt the most open it had all day. You hadn’t realised how restricted your chest had been until now, you didn’t notice how tight your jaw had become and how tense your neck had been. You let out a shuddering breath as you turned off the water and stepped out and wrapped your soft towels around your body.

Your bedroom was tidier than you left it. Your work clothes were hung in your wardrobe, a clean linen candle was lit and your childhood teddy sat up in the centre of the bed, your reading glasses placed on his head and an open book in his hands. You genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time all night. Fox had laid out your pyjama bottoms and one of his old basketball shirts on your bed for you to change into.

The scattered fairy lights illuminated your living room with a warm glow. The smell of tomato soup and Fox’s aftershave lingered in the air as you took the bowl from the side and joined your boyfriend on the sofa. He’d gotten changed into some loose shorts and a t shirt from Old Navy that had been stretched beyond all recognition. His glasses were steamy from the soup he held in one hand as he used the other to pat the spot next to him on the sofa. He smiled at you as you sat down, he looked relieved and clearly noticed how much better you felt.

You both ate your soup in silence as you watched Golden Girls, when you finished you laid your head on his chest as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your back. “Thank y-“ you started as you lifted your head to face him, he kissed you quick before you could finish your sentence. “You don’t need to thank me, we’re a team you know that? Seeing you smile is worth it”.

[sidleyparkhermit]

Snowflake Challenge #13 (crosspost from DW)

Snowflake Challenge #13: Make a rec list of fanworks.

I almost invariably rec only completed fics, so this time I thought I'd do a rec list of just WIPs. I'm telling you right now, none of these works have been updated more recently than March 2023. I invite you to enjoy them as they are and to leave feedback that is encouraging but not bullying. ;)

1) If Tomorrow Never Comes by @eau1636. Endeavour Morse/Peter Jakes (Endeavour). A time loop story with wonderful characterization in one of my most favorite rare pairs.

He already knew what the paper’s headlines would be, what the answers to the crossword puzzle were, what date would be printed across the top. He unrolled the paper and there it was, irrefutable in black and white. Monday, February 2, 1967. Morse called the station to say he was ill and wouldn’t be in today. Then he walked over, took the bottle down from the shelf, and set to work. At least the scotch had refilled itself overnight. Small mercies. Once darkness fell that evening, Morse walked to the park. He sat on a bench in the freezing night air, looking up at the stars. He would stay awake all night. He wouldn’t go home, he’d stay right here under the open sky. Whatever it was that was happening, it couldn’t get him here.

2) fidelity, undying by @joycecarolnotes Loki/Mobius (Loki TV series). The deeply evocative scene-setting first chapter of an arranged marriage canon-divergence. 

Frigga sighs and strokes his raven hair, perched beside him on the edge of his bed. "While you may not wish to hear it, I believe that your marriage to this Midgardian prince is for the best." Loki scoffs. "Oh do you?" Her own marriage, Frigga says, had been arranged by her father. She did not wish to leave her home, to travel to Asgard and marry the gruff, imposing, one-eyed man who called himself the All-Father. But she peered into her future and saw that she would have two sons, and raise them beside Odin, and that she would love them very much. And so she went. "What of my future," Loki asks, "have you had a look?" Frigga shakes her head. "And would you tell me if you had?" Frigga shakes her head again.

3) i thought you should know, by @odekirk. Howard Hamlin/Chuck McGill (Better Call Saul). The tragedy of Howard and Chuck, of the Hamlins and the McGills, over the decades. Fun fact: odekirk is straight-up the only fic writer who understands these two characters at all.

In the dream, Howard stands on Chuck’s porch and knocks three times on the front door, and tries to call out Chuck’s name. He’s holding something in his arm—one of the lights from the HHM conference room, glowing softly in the dark of night. “Maybe he’s at the grocery store,” Julie says. Yes, of course she’s right. Howard turns around and panics—where is his car? He just parked it right there in front of Chuck’s house. “I don’t have a car,” he laments to Julie. “I don’t know where my car is.” “Maybe it’s inside.” Yes, of course the car is inside. Howard turns around again and the front door is open. He walks in and sees the state of the house. Walls are torn up. Books are scattered all over. Appliances are strewn across the floor, the windows are boarded up, space blankets are hung everywhere. “Where’s your car?” Jimmy asks him. “What did you do?” Howard is frightened. If he can’t find his car, he’ll never be able to drive to the grocery store to get Chuck. He has to talk to Chuck.

originally posted on dreamwidth for the 2024 snowflake challenge prompts. (no, I still don't like dreamwidth, but it's... there.)

[videostak]

its 4 and i still havent eaten T-T what i ended up doin was i realized when i was at the thrift the car was super low on gas so i waas like guess ill tell my dad to fill it up when he comes home so that i can go tomorrow to the mall maybe cause he had said the first day i drove to the record store in it that he was gonna go fill it up but i think he mustve been p busy or forgot so 2day i was like o ya i should remind him cause i didnt realize like HOW LOW it was til i was at the thrift lolllll like it was like almost empty since its like just a real lil meter and not anything thats lit up i straight up didnt notice til i was there lol. and i kno cars u kno can last for a while even right at the end so like i rly didnt have anything to worry abt but i was also like loll. anyways i came home and was chilling but then realized like ya thatd be annoying for me to tell my dad i drove today then tell him to fill it up so i just drove to get gas myself rn :D was p fun like just stuff like that i have to do more and more u kno to like actually start to feel like its my car and like just my own thing ^_^ tho also realized that the mirrors arent aligned to my eyes lol so i kinda had to duck a bit to see thru them but ill have to remember to fix them next time i go in. also realllly need to work on getting from like moving back to first cause its p hard tbh . or i dont think im doing it rough enough maybe idk. but driving on streets seems easy peasy! like kinda feels natural really the lil shuffle i do with my feet and stuff. i hawnestly dont even kno what im doing with my feet sometimes LOL like kinda just balancing the clutch and gas v weirdly but like its not making the engine jerk or do anything weird so i guess im driving it right! atleast right enough for the time being. jusst have to work on turning and driving slow/going back to 1st when its needed and slopes n stuffff. but like i can manage p well it seems. ^~^ also gonna get burgers with my sister when she gets out of work which is like in an hour and thirty minutes so ill just eat smthn light for the time being :-)

[landofgay]

um I have terminal missing my bf disease

[spicy-tomato]

Can i pls req dream being reader's sugar daddy :O - 🌼

sorry this took a hot sec ive been working on this one for a while cause i really liked the idea, so here you go :)) it ended up being like 2k words so im sorry

You had it all, anything you could want and more. Wanted to go to rome? Done, your plane leaves tomorrow. Dream absolutely spoiled you and you couldnt be more happy about it. It started off as a thing to help you with rent, but the longer you did it the more you enjoyed being able to get what you wanted when you wanted. Today was your weekly lunch with dream, you had both agreed that at least once a week he would take time off to get lunch with you, it made you smile to see him take time for you. As the tease you were, you decided to wear something a little revealing to tease him since he had cancelled your shopping trip with him the day before. You put on a low cut crop top and some shorts that show a little too much before fixing your hair. You hear you phone ding, getting a text from dream,

Daddy dream <3

Hey baby, i'm out front whenever youre ready to go

You smile and put your phone in your pocket before walking out to his car and getting in. you kiss his cheek quickly “hi daddy” you giggle and smile at him

“Hi sweetheart” he looks you up and down before smirking “like the outfit, all for me?” you giggle and nod before he starts to drive to the restaurant, one hand on your thigh. “Do you know what you want? You know the rule, anything you want no matter the price. And after that we can go shopping to make up for my cancelling yesterday.” you smile at him

“I know, and we dont have to dream, we can just hang out. Its been a while since we did that. Maybe we can go somewhere for you to make it up to me instead” he smiles and squeezes your thigh as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant.

“Anywhere you want baby, only the best for you.” you look down and blush, moving over to lean your head on his shoulder as he moves a hand to pet your hair. “Ill take you anywhere anytime and get you anything you want.” you cant lie, at times you had thought about being more than just his sugar baby, having a real romantic relationship, but he was always so busy that it made it seem almost impossible. Sure he took time out to be with you but it was never a lot unless you were traveling. He didnt tell you a lot about his job either, just knew that he had a large following and that he didnt want anything serious and put his partner in a bad situation, but damn if you havent thought about him coming home to you and calling you his.

“Baby? You okay? You zoned out.” he waves a hand in front of your face and you blink back to reality.

“Yeah, sorry i just got a little distracted. Lets go get some food!” you pull away from him and he gets out, walking around to open your door for you and holds a hand out to help you. “Thank you” you smile and take his hand as you step out, he closes the door behind you and puts an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as you both walk up to get a table. You get seated immediately and he pulls your chair out for you. “Is there a single flaw with you?” you ask genuinely, he just laughs and shakes his head.

“Theres a bunch you dont know about me, sweetheart.” you roll your eyes as the waitress comes back with your mimosa and his water, asking for your orders. He orders for you and him before she walks off to put them in. He always knows what you want and orders it for you. It makes you smile that he likes to take care of you. You shake that thought away and go back to mindlessly talking with him, waiting on the food. It comes shortly and you both start to eat. “Where do you want to go? Japan? Italy? Oh we havent been to paris in a while, maybe there.”

“I think paris would be great, its always so pretty this time of year, maybe we can have dinner on the eiffel tower again!” your eyes light up at the thought of going back to paris. Last time you went was last spring, you both walked around and had the most wonderful time people watching and shopping. You take another bite and he looks like hes about to say something before he stops himself and looks down. “What is it? Is something wrong?” you look at him concerned, scared you messed something up.

“Its nothing darling, dont worry.” you both finish up lunch and he pays before helping you up and leading you back to the car. “I have something id like to ask you when we get to paris if thats okay, its nothing bad i promise its just something ive been meaning to ask for a while is all.” you nod as he opens the door for you and helps you in. “now, a pretty girl like you needs pretty new clothes for the trip, lets go get you some.” he smiles at you as he gets in, resting a hand back on your thigh as he starts the car, leading you both to the mall.

You spend hours in there going to different stores and trying things on, him getting you whatever you wanted without any hesitation. You walk back to the car with armfulls of bags and a couple new suitcases. “Thank you so much daddy, youre the best.” you kiss his cheek and he turns a little red.

“Its no problem baby, why dont you stay over tonight and we can leave in the morning to head to the airport. I can help you pack and we can watch a movie.” you smiles and nod, putting your bags in the back of the car and your new suitcases in the trunk.

“Id like that…” you think for a second about how nice it would be to wake up next to him every day and how nice it is to fall asleep next to him when it happens, even if when you did wake up after he wasnt next to you. The cold bed always made you remember that you would never be more than this, not that this was bad in the least its just sometimes you wish you could be more. He drives you both back to his apartment building and helps you out, grabbing most of your bags, only leaving you to grab the suitcases as you enter the building. He lived on the top floor in the penthouse, expected for how much money he had. You set your stuff down in his room, your new clothes already laid out nicely thanks to him. He walks up behind you and hugs you from behind.

“Youll look so good in all of those baby, gonna be the prettiest one in paris.” he kisses your neck softly before pulling away and taking your hand, leading you to sit on the part of the bed not covered by clothes. “Let me go run you a bath and you can pick out a movie.” you nod and he walks to the bathroom, leaving you alone on the bed. You turn on the tv and start scrolling through netflix looking for a movie, finally deciding as he walks back in and picks you up. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, moving your head to rest on his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. He sets you on the counter and takes your shirt off carefully, leaving kisses down your neck and chest and he moves down to take your shorts off. You lift yourself gently to help him take your shorts off. He takes them off quickly before nipping and kissing your inner thighs, ghosting over your core. You whine and try to move closer to him before he presses your hips down into the counter.

“Stay still baby, dont wanna have to punish you. Daddy just wants his desert.” you nod quickly and stay still, his head diving to softly kiss your clit, causing you to whine. He chuckles and starts to slowly eat you out, almost at a teasing pace. You whine and grip the counter, trying to keep from pulling his hair. He pulls away and smiles, “good girl, being so good and not pulling my hair. Just letting daddy eat you up.” after he says that his hands move down to your thighs open as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. You let out a loud moan and throw your head back, your hands moving to his hair and tugging closer. At this point he didnt care about you pulling his hair, to blissed out by hearing your sweet moans and tasting you. Your cries became louder as he dragged you closer to the edge. as you were almost there he stopped, causing a loud whine from you as he moves up to face you. He looked like heaven like this, face covered in your slick with eyes dark from lust.

“Now my good little girl, i want you to get off the counter and bend over for daddy.” you quickly move off the counter and do as your told. “Such a perfect little girl, i want you to watch as i make you feel good, got it? You look away and i stop,” he chuckles and grabs your neck after you nod. His hand moves from your neck to your hair to hold you in place, making eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Such a precious little pet for me, arent you?” you whine as he lines up with your entrance, teasing you, causing you to press your hips back against him. He smacks your ass roughly and pulls you against his chest by your hair. “Thats not very nice bun, its almost like you want me to leave you all worked up.’’ he smirks at you before pulling you roughly back against him, ripping a scream from your throat. He sets a brutal pace, leaving no time for you to adjust to him. He keeps the pace, your legs starting to shake as he brings you back to the edge of your orgasm before quickly throwing you over it. You let out a cry of his name, trails of tears starting to run from your eyes as he keeps going.

“Pretty little bunny, always so good and tight for me. Gonna breed you so good. Fuck you until i know it takes.” he tugs your hair roughly and starts to bite and suck at your neck, leaving marks in his wake. You whine and cry, moving your hands to tug at his hair. “So close princess, gonna fill you up so good.” he moves a hand to your clit to punctuate his statement, causing a louder cry to come from you as you tip over the edge once again. His hips start to stutter as he fills you up, riding out his high with shallow thrusts letting out a few more quiet moans before pulling out of you carefully. You whine and tug at his hair as he does so. He picks you up carefully as he pulls away.

“i figured we could take a bath and then cuddle before we pack and figure out what time we should leave for the airport.” you nod and he carries you carefully over to the tub, setting you down carefully in it before getting and sitting behind you. He starts to wash your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep. You wake up briefly as he lifts you from the tub and carries you to the bed. He moves the blankets back and sets you down gently before crawling in next to you , pulling the blankets back over you.

“Be my partner,” he says as you turn towards him

“Only if we can still go to paris” you giggle and he nods, kissing the top of your head before you both drift off.

[scuttle-buttle]

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

[saltyhyunjae]

CHAPTER THREE: YOU KNOCK ME OUT COLD AND DISAPPEAR

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers (?), kidnapping, criminal!tbz, mentions of guns & knives, small mention of suicide

word count: 2.2k

summary: It’s time for y/n to carry out her escape plan.

part two

“Here’s the diary you asked for.” Kevin gives you a small notebook with a pen. “Thank you.” Tomorrow is gonna be the day. The day you finally escape. When you enter your room, you sit on your bed and write down the info you have gathered all week.

Everyone goes to their room around 2 in the morning. Eric gets his midnight snack at 2:30, and Sunwoo goes to the toilet around 3. By the time they’re all asleep it’s 3:30. Instead of leaving at 3:30 you decide that it’s better to stay put till 4. You also checked the door last night. It doesn’t have any censors and an easy lock. This should be an easy mission.

“Knock knock.” Younghoon walks into your room. You quickly close your diary and put it on your nightstand.

“That’s not how you knock.”

He laughs and lies on your bed. “I’m so bored, what should we do?” “We?” You turn around to face him and he nods. You look outside. It’s been raining all week but the sun has been shining all morning. “Why don’t we sit in the garden?” You suggest. Ever since you came back from the grocery store you’ve only been inside. You needed some fresh air.

After a couple minutes you were outside with Younghoon, sitting on a picnic blanket, eating some fruit and enjoying the nice weather.

“Ah, the weather is great today.” Younghoon smiles, laying down on the blanket and you do the same. You smile at the warm feeling from the sun, finally relaxing.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can suddenly feel a shadow above you, blocking the sun. “What the-, move!” You hear Younghoon complain and you open your eyes to see Hyunjae, standing between you too. If you’re completely honest you’ve been avoiding him ever since what happened that one night. The more you hangout with him, the weirder you start to feel.

“What are you guys doing?” “What does it look like? We’re enjoying the sun.” Younghoon puts his sunglasses back on and lays down again. You’re about to close your eyes again but Hyunjae finds a way to lie between you two. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Younghoon groans. “I wanna enjoy the sun too.” “Go do that somewhere else.” “No.” You scootch over a bit and decide to just ignore him.

»»————-　➴　————-««

After you’re done with cleaning the living room and folding the laundry, Jacob asks you to have another guitar session, to which you excitedly agree. You loved his voice and you were hoping he could tell you a bit more about the boys.

He starts off by singing Paris In The Rain by Lauv. you absolutely love his voice and you automatically start smiling the second you hear him sing. You once again take your time to look at him. He has a soft smile as he sings, his hair falling just right above his eyes that are following the chords of the guitar and his head slowly nodding with the melodies.

When he finishes the song, you applaud him. “Wow Jacob, you’re so good at singing. Do you have some self-written songs?” He nods “I do, do you want to hear one?” You nod excitedly. “This one is called happy-” Jacob gets interrupted by Hyunjae storming into your room. Are you actually kidding me?

“Jacob, Sangyeon needs you to help him.” Jacob nods, stands up and thanks you for your time before leaving to help Sangyeon. You were hoping Hyunjae would leave with Jacob but instead he sits next to you on the bed, very close, leaving no personal space.

You're about to scootch away from him. But he places his hand on your thigh to stop you. Usually if a guy did this you would slap his hand away, but you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. “What’s with the distance? You’ve been avoiding me all week. Did you think I wouldn't notice?” He asks in a low voice. Your brain starts to fog up. “I-” You try to find words to say but nothing comes out. His face gets closer, never breaking eye contact with you.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” He smirks. You feel a bubble of annoyance come up. As you're about to reply with ‘no’, Eric storms in. “Y/n! ah Hyunjae, there you are!” “What do you want?” Hyunjae asks, clearly annoyed at Eric interrupting the two of you.

“Y/n, come play games with me. Hyunjae, you can come too if you want.” Hyunjae huffs and rolls his eyes. “Y/n, please.” Eric whines, now pulling your arm, trying to get you off the bed. “Okay okay.” You give in, scared to be alone with Hyunjae in one room. You would be lying if you say that your heart doesn't flutter every time you see him.

After an hour and a half of playing mario kart with Eric and Hyunjae, and you despite your sneaky protests, sitting in between them, and you beating both of them more than seven times, it’s finally time for dinner. And guess who you're sitting next to. Hyunjae.

“So guys, our break is ending. Our next group mission starts next week, so make sure you prepare for it well. I’ll tell you guys the details later.” Sangyeon announces and the boys cheer. “Finally I was so bored.” Changmin drops on his chair. “You're always bored, maybe you're just boring.” Eric laughs, making fun of him, but quickly stopping as Changmin points a knife at him.

After dinner Sangyeon and Chanhee offer to help clean up and Kevin helps you with the dishes. By the time you're done it’s late, so you decide to go to bed first. Since your escape is tomorrow, you need as much rest as you can.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Today you woke up a little later than normally so you won't be tired tonight. You really need your energy to run as fast as possible. After you guys are done with eating breakfast you watch a drama with Juyeon, Haknyeon and Eric, do laundry and clean the house and by the time you're done it's time to prepare for dinner which Younghoon and Sunwoo helps you with.

After dinner you clean up with Eric and then go to your room to prepare your outfits. You grab a sweater from your closet and a pair of leggings that would be comfortable and warm, since it would be cold at night.

While you put them under your bed with your sneakers, someone knocks on your door. Finally someone who can knock, you think. “Come in.” Jacob comes in smiling at you. “Hi, am I disturbing you?” You shake your head sitting on your bed and he does the same.

“Well I just wanna tell you I'm very happy to have you here, you’ve been helping us a lot even though I know you don’t wanna be here and I really appreciate you. I would’ve given you a present, but I don't think you would appreciate stolen stuff.” He looks down at his knees, blushing a bit, cute.

You started to feel a pang of guilt in your heart, Jacob has been an angel to you ever since you first spoke to him but you couldn’t take it any longer, you wanted to leave. You needed to leave. Trying to enjoy the time you had left with him you guys spent hours talking about Canada, his childhood, why he doesn’t swear and about how much he loves basketball. You could watch him talk for hours. You nod to everything he says, trying to ignore the butterflies you feel when you two make eye contact.

»»————-　➴　————-««

You look up at the clock in your room. 04:00. You get up from your bed and make your way to your bedroom door. You slowly open your door and walk to the stairs, quietly going down the steps and taking breaks every few steps. You mentally sigh when u make it downstairs u slowly make your way to the front door in the dark careful not to make a noise.

When you walk past the kitchen you decide to take a knife with you, just in case. When you get to the door you slowly open the door, cringing at the little squeak sound it makes in the process.

Once the door is wide enough for you to fit in, you step outside, leaving the door open, since the sound of the door closing might wake them up. You take a few quick steps till you reach further from the house.

Once you’re reaching the forest you hear the door slam open. Shit! You turn around before you start running. Sangyeon’s standing at the door. Clearly very angry. “Y/N!” You hear him scream as you start running fasters. You hear the others making a fuss as you take a turn right into the forest.

“God, she’s fast.” Kevin breathes out, taking a break from running. “Yeah, just let her go, I'm too tired.” Chanhee squats down, Younghoon doing the same. “No! she’ll report us to the police and then it’s over for us, we need to find her.” Sangyeon says before making his way to the forest, the others following behind him.

You notice the forest is on top of a hill, which makes you run down faster. You run way faster than expected, almost twisting your ankle when taking a turn left. The footsteps of the boys started to fade away but you didn’t slow down, adrenaline still rushing through your body.

“Y/N!” Sangyeon screams looking around, he stops running and waits for the others to catch up, when they do, he shares his plan. “Okay, we're splitting up in the units we use for our missions, call me when you find her.” And they all split up in their units, Sangyeon’s unit going left.

“How could she do this?” Eric sighs. “I mean we kidnapped her, this was bound to happen.” Hyunjae says. He hates to admit but he’s worried sick and hopes you're not hurt. He shrugs it off thinking it's just a normal reaction and that he’s not actually catching feelings for you.

After a while your running slows down and you start to get tired. You stumble across a huge fallen down tree and you decide to hide behind it. Cliche but you're so tired, you can barely feel your legs. Once you sit down, you bend a bit making sure your head isn’t visible. You sigh. Why did you have to be the one to get kidnapped, why did they have to rob the store you work at. You stop the tears you feel from flowing so it won’t block your sight.

“How fast is she, God.” You hear Changmin’s voice from a little distance. Shit. You're freaking out but remain in your position. You pray that they won’t see you, cause they’ll definitely kill you when they do. The voices are starting to fade and you take the opportunity to start running again, regaining the adrenaline you had earlier.

But you should’ve waited. Juyeon spots you. “There!” You hear him yell and they start running after you. You panic, taking a run right, into the darker part of the forest. You jump over another fallen tree and make your way further down. Once you lose them you slow down a bit. You can barely see anything, so you start walking.

Suddenly you feel two hands grab you. You startle and stab the person with the knife you're holding. “Ow!” Jacob. You panic as you start running again, feeling slightly bad that he was the one you stabbed. You hope he’s okay as you start running faster.

After a while you stumble over something that makes you fall down, hurting your knee and elbows. “Fuck.” You whisper, quickly getting up. Soon after you run into a tree hurting your chest and cheek. You were getting so tired, you couldn’t even focus on where you were running to. You prayed this all was just a bad dream and you would wake up in your own room again, remaining your normal life.

“Jacob what happened!” Sangyeon gives him a worried look. The boys gather around Jacob, who’s holding his arm. “She stabbed me.” He understands why you did it but it still hurts him. “God, she has a knife.” Sunwoo panics. “Younghoon and Chanhee, bring Jacob to the house and take care of his wound. The rest of us will keep on searching.” The boys nod at his order and split up again.

An hour passes and the boys still haven’t found you. Hyunjae starts to worry even more. They were all wearing a jacket, but you didn't. It was so cold around this time of the day and it would be so easy to freeze up. “Shouldn’t we just give up. The sun will start rising soon, she’ll probably show up again.” He suggests, but Sangyeon ignores him. He sighs. As much as he wants you to be free, he doesn’t want to let you go.

You’re just roaming around at this point. You have no idea how much time has passed, or if the boys have given up already. You think it might be easier to just stab yourself with a knife and just die. But you didn’t want to give up. You wanted your old life back. You finally see the end of the forest a couple meters away from you and run towards it. But something grabs you and spins you around. You look up and your eyes widen. Hyunjae.

»»————-　➴　————-««

taglist

@beauchamp-fraser @n-xrmy @givememunjang

[cleoirvine]

♡It was his arrogance. The way he spoke with a slight drawl, his words dripping with narcissism. It was how he walked, his back straight from years of holding himself upright, believing he was better than everyone else. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened with unbridled determination, the want, no, the need, to be the best. He was selfish, manipulative, and quite frankly, had his head shoved so far up his own ass that you-

“Maybe you should take a picture, it would last longer.”

Atsumu looked at you with a slight smirk, a volleyball tucked beneath his arm, a bag slung across his shoulder.

“Maybe you should try a different hair color, that way people won’t call you piss boy behind your back.” You said with a snort, averting your gaze elsewhere.

He had half a brain to spike that ball right at your face. But he simply rolled his eyes and brushed past you, making his way into the gym where the rest of his teammates sat stretching. Slipped between the clasp of your hands was a clipboard, the stats of each player displayed on clean even lines. Your notes took up the margins of the pages, your job as manager for the boys volleyball team becoming more of a hassle with every snarky comment that left the older twins mouth.

“If you’re going to be manager, then ya should at least pretend to make yourself useful.” Atsumu had said halfway into practice. As you passed around water bottles and reviewed upcoming plays, he had snatched the clipboard from beneath your elbow and dangled it above your head.

“Are you a 12 or something?” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. The blonde had grinned, a devilish smile laced with ill intent rolled over his features.

“Come on, manager. All ya gotta do is reach. Not up for a little fun?”

“Keep it. I have everything on there memorized anyways.”

But Atsumu was never one to give in easily. Golden boy, whether that name was a play on his hair color or not, was a powerhouse of a player; he was loved by many, adored by more, and envied by most. He was capable, and overwhelmingly diligent in his plays and his teasing mannerisms, and so what if his manager of all people didn’t give him the time of day? Why should he care that you were able to shut him down so easily, with the wave of your hand, the roll of your eyes, the quirk of your eyebrow. There were hundreds of other people who would love to be in your position. Thousands of people who would love to be acknowledged by someone like him.

“So ya wouldn’t mind if I ripped it up? Or maybe if I poured water all over it? How about that?”

Your movements were deliberate. The way you stood with one hip jutted out just slightly, the tilt of your head and the crease in your eyes to signify your annoyance. You tapped your foot on the hardwood floor of the gymnasium, the sound echoing off the walls around you. In your head, you weighed your options. 1) You could give in, beg him to hand back the clipboard, and return to your seat like a humiliated dog with its tail between its legs. No, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. 2) You could get the coach involved. There’s no way Atsumu wouldn’t give it back then. But did you want to risk sounding like a cry baby? Like a snitch, even? 3) You could do the only reasonable thing you could think of- treat him like the child he is.

“I’m going to count to 5, Miya. And by the time I’m done, that clipboard better be back in my hands, or else.” You extended a hand, fingers firmly stuck together, face stoic and void of anything other than impatience. Like a mother with her toddler in a grocery store, you waited for him to stomp his feet and curl his hands into fists as he always did when he was embarrassed.

“Or else what?”

You paused. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Atsumu sucked in a breath and gripped the notes a little tighter. He knew he had you cornered.

“Or else I’ll quit. And you can find yourself a new manager. How would your team feel, knowing that you’re the reason they no longer have me around?”

“Why should I care? Leave if ya want, no one’s stopping ya. Door’s wide open, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart beat erratically in your chest. Were you really going to quit over something as stupid as a clipboard? But if you stayed, Atsumu would win, would he not? Was winning and losing all that really mattered at the moment? No, your pride was on the line. Your dignity. Maybe, you had just as much of an ego as him. You couldn’t stand to see that smug look on his face for just one more second. You hated the way he laughed, as if he knew how much the bickering truly got to you. As if he could hear you physically swallow each time he called you sweetheart or when your shoulders brushed against each other on the way to practice. You feared the way his eyes watched your every movement, as if predicting and calculating exactly what you were going to do next.

But right now, Atsumu sat still, arm extended above both your heads, contemplating what exactly was going on inside your mind. Would you actually leave right now? Walk out that door, turn in your resignation letter and never return? He tried to picture it without you- the bus rides void of your terrible singing, the benches empty of your presence. You wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a loss, or praise him after a win-them, he thinks. The team, not just him. But god does he want it to be him. So bad. He knew you hated him. He knew you despised him down to the very atom. And maybe this was the only way he could get you to look at him, even if it was for only a second.

“Is that what you want?” You ask, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Your eyes drop from his for just a second, and you feel yourself inching towards the door. Atsumu doesn’t even take a moment to think before replying.

“No. Not at all. I want you to stay right where you are.” His mind is yet to catch up with his mouth, and his hands are moving before he can process it. He tosses you the clipboard, and dips beneath the net to prepare for another practice round. It’s only moments later does his face begin to grow red from embarrassment, with the realization of his actions settling on him fully.

He waits for you outside the gym doors. Kita helps you put away any stray balls and stacks the chairs against the back wall for you, before making his way into the late afternoon. As you find yourself stepping out as well, Atsumu’s hand grips at the junction of your wrist, his touch light, desperate, far from his usual demanding demeanor. He pauses, scratching at the back of his neck and running his hands through his hair as he glances at your shoes merely inches apart.

“I’m sorry-about today. I got a little carried away.” His voice is small, and you can see the apples of his cheeks glow pink in the fading sunlight.

“It would really suck if ya quit on us. Not for me-but for the team, ya know.” The silence between you is deafening, and you feel your heart hammer against your rib cage as you watch him remove his hand from where it was positioned on your arm. The loss of touch has you chasing him back, gripping his hand tightly in your own, before entwining your fingers together.

“I’ll stay for you too- I-I’m staying for you, I mean.” He looks up at you then, eyes wide in shock, before they turn to amusement.

“Oh really? Good to know-” You retract your hand from his, moving to walk ahead of him up the street.

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Noooo where are ya going? We were making progress!” His hands slip around your sides as he twirls you back towards him, his grip on the front of your backpack straps keeping you secured in place.

“Does this mean you like me, manager?” He asks with a playful lilt to his voice.

“I mean I don’t hate you-”

“Aw come on, can’t ya just say it? For me?”

You pretend to act oblivious, struggling against his hold.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about-”

“I like you, ya know.”

You stop then.

“I tease ya because I think your reactions are cute. Especially when you go from slightly annoyed to angry, cause then you look super hot-”

“Miya-!” “Astumu. Please call me Atsumu from now on.”

He releases his hands from around your bag, and turns you back towards the road. In front of you, you watch as it forks down the middle, Atsumu usually taking the right to get home. But as you hurry on, you feel his presence behind you. “Your house is that way.”

“I know, I’m walking ya home.” There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“At least tell me you like me a little bit. Come on, it ain’t fair to leave a guy hanging-”

“And what if you’re lying. What if tomorrow you don’t feel the way you do now?”

Atsumu shook his head with a laugh.

“I liked you yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. Trust me, I can’t get rid of ya even if I tried. Not that I would want that, though.”

You stop, and in the dimness of a dying sun, you catch his stare, eyes holding yours with careful assurance.

“I like you, Atsumu.”

He moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest as your voice is muffled in his shirt.

“But I swear to god if you ever try that with me again-”

“We were having such a good moment, why’d ya have to go and say that!” there's a pout on his lips as he pulls away for just a moment.

“But you look really pretty right now, so I’ll forgive you.” You can’t help the smile that spills over your features. You clutch him close to you- the boy who’s overwhelming arrogance caught your attention. The boy who teased you too much, pushed not just the right buttons, but all your buttons, until his presence was nearly impossible to ignore. He was yours, and only yours. His image was shared with hundreds, but you were the only one who could hold him in such a way, the only one to see him crumble beneath your touch. He was yours, and yours only.

[tennessoui]

I absolutely love your KUWSK snippets and had to read them all after discovering the first part on ao3! (I should also work but I'm non stop giggling instead)

May I ask for: anakin being stressed out (big deadline coming up, handling the kids, work & cooking being too much) so obi-wan wants to help him out? Like he tries to cook for the family for once but I remember you saying that he can't cook to save his life? maybe rope the twins into it as well as a nice bonding moment

hello!!!! i've been meaning to write this for ages and i kept getting side-tracked/didn't have the time to sit and write a proper ficlet, but I did today! Here's 1k now, and I'll post the whole thing tomorrow afternoon(ish) on ao3. I mis-remembered the prompt until it was too late to really change directions, but so this is more of a sick!fic than a stressed out!fic but I do promise KUWSK Obi-Wan does step in even when Anakin is not sick to help with the kids, the clean up after cooking, helping them with homework, keeping the house tidy etc etc

anyways here is the beginning of sick fic! (SET about a month before The Kiss, 2 years after Obi-Wan and Anakin and the twins move in together)

-

It’d be much easier to take care of Anakin when he’s sick if he would actually admit to being sick.

“Skywalkers don’t get sick,” he’d insisted just a day ago. Obi-Wan had raised a very pointed eyebrow towards the twins who are looking quite pathetic, sniffling in their beds and coughing into their fists.

“That’s their Amidala genes,” Anakin had said and then sneezed into his elbow.

Obi-Wan had known at that moment that the next few days would be very awful for everyone involved.

But Anakin is making it much worse than it has to be, he really is. Thank god it’s midterm week, so Obi-Wan can finagle his TAs into proctoring the exams. Thank god he has four TAs for his biggest lecture module, so that they can grade them all too, which means Obi-Wan just has to read through and mark up his capstone students’ midterm essays.

Which he can do from the comfort of his own house turned Emergency Skywalker Walk In Clinic.

The twins had woken up with a fever and a sore throat on Wednesday. They’d never been sick in the two or so years they had all lived together, and Obi-Wan, admittedly, had not known how to handle it.

Anakin, in a surprising twist of fate, had been much more level-headed about the whole thing. He’d called the school to let them know the twins wouldn’t be coming in, and had asked Obi-Wan to run to the pharmacy before his classes to pick up some meds for them. And perhaps a thermometer.

(“I can’t believe you’re forty-four and you don’t have a thermometer.”

“Well, that’s not fair. I have one in the kitchen.”

“That’s different and you know it--”

“Of course it's different, I was just theorizing that perhaps having a kitchen thermometer actually makes up for not having a person thermometer.”

“Yeah, and instead of giving the kids baths and changing their sheets, we can just baste them in their own fever juices too!”

“I’m going, I’m going.”)

He’d calmed down in the face of Anakin’s own composure, but then on the way to the pharmacy he’d listened to a podcast episode about devastating and lifelong effects certain illnesses can have on children, and he had managed to work himself up into a stressful tizzy by the time he parked the car.

The amount of products he’d bought, Obi-Wan can admit now, was a little over the top. Anakin had certainly laughed when he’d come back through the door, not even bothering to take his coat or shoes off--even though the no-shoes-inside rule is his rule--and started unpacking the four plastic bags worth of medical supplies.

“Well, now I’ll feel bad if the kids aren’t sick until June,” Anakin had said, picking up one of the cough syrups to examine the label.

“That kind will make them sleepy, but this kind tastes like grapes,” Obi-Wan had muttered. “And this kind is okay to give to children under four.”

“The kids are--”

“I know how old the kids are,” Obi-Wan had snapped. “This is called being prepared.”

“This is called diagnosable,” Anakin had laughed and then ducked out of the way when Obi-Wan chucks a package of band-aids--he’d panicked, okay--at his head. “Hey,” he’d said after a moment, coming forward and placing his hand on Obi-Wan’s elbow. The contact had burned through the layers of clothing he’s wearing. “They’re going to be fine, Obi-Wan, really. I’ll be home all day taking care of them, and I’ll make chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight.”

“I can make chicken noodle soup for dinner,” Obi-Wan had protested. “You don’t have to do everything.”

“Obi-Wan, they’re already sick,” Anakin had shaken his head with a grin. “The point is to try and feed them something they’d want to at least try to keep down.”

“I hate you,” Obi-Wan had sighed with a quirk of his lips.

“I love you,” Anakin had said, as if that was something he said on the regular, reaching out to take the thermometer from his hand. Obi-Wan’s grip had gone slack though, causing the thermometer to clatter to the counter. “Like a brother,” Anakin had tacked on hurriedly and then winced.

“Right,” Obi-Wan had coughed, wondering why the addendum made his chest feel tight and strange, like missing a step on the stairs. “Well. Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Anakin had said, looking even more mortified.

“Right. Ah. So. I’m. Going to campus. If the twins need anything else, please let me know. I’ll pick up whatever you need for...dinner on my way home. Just text me.”

“Will do,” Anakin had agreed, staring resolutely at the cabinets over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Bro.”

And to his credit, Anakin had texted him with a long list of things they’d need from the store.

He’d just also failed to mention his own rapidly declining health. Obi-Wan had arrived home to Anakin coughing up a storm in the dining room and the twins bundled up and bleary-eyed in front of the television.

The chicken soup had not been made that night because Obi-Wan had not allowed Anakin anywhere near the kitchen. Instead he’d fed the children toast and applesauce and let them keep watching their show until bedtime.

Anakin had been left alone for the most part, as Obi-Wan had been convinced that Anakin would see reason himself and stop working as he started feeling progressively worse.

That had, of course, been too much to expect.

“I can’t believe you’re twenty-eight and don’t know how to listen to your body when it’s trying to tell you you’re sick,” Obi-Wan had said, lowering and slowing his voice in a bad imitation of Anakin.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You’re right, you couldn’t get through that whole sentence without coughing at the moment."

“I’m going to bed.”

“Please do. And for god sakes, Anakin, leave the laptop down here."

“Good night, Obi-Wan."

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Shooting Stars (Childe x Fem!Reader)

note: honestly, no one asked for this. this is obviously self-indulgent, but god FUCK do i love that ginger fatui man so much.

word count: 2.6k

"Careful now."

Childe's voice was calming, much like the gust of wind that blew past your hair. You saw his hand in front of you and you gladly grasped it, heart racing at the idea of falling to your death. The wind was calm and the air was refreshing, but there was nothing light about the pit in your stomach screaming at you to just carefully glide back down to the foot of the mountain you two were climbing.

"You aren't going to die, dear." He laughed, amused at the sight of your face.

"And what if I do? Childe, this isn't funny!" Your knees were planted firmly on one of the floating rocks just above Qingyun Peak. You grimaced at how the moss scraped against your bare knees, but you felt paralyzed with fear at the thought of falling because you knew better than to trust your clumsy nature.

"I'm not letting you fall. Trust me!" The genuine concern and reassurance in his voice was masked with his charming playfulness, and you couldn't help but sigh and stand up to follow him up to the floating island up ahead.

Childe requested to occupy your entire day earlier that morning, saying something about him showing you a beautiful sight that's sure to take your breath away. You agreed, entertaining his idea of a beautiful sight. After sparring with him in the golden house, eating a sumptuous lunch at Wanmin Restaurant, then sparring with him again, you two headed over to Qingyun Peak. The sun was about to set, and your eyes were mesmerized by how the purple hues above your head covered the entirety of Liyue.

The golden hour was nearly over, and here you were, scared out of your mind, with Childe leading you up a path of floating rock chunks that you were sure would collapse if two of you stepped on one at the same time. However, much to your surprise, they didn't.

"I've got you, okay?" Your companion's voice rang in your ears, and you didn't notice that he stepped down from his current platform to take his rightful place beside you. His right hand was still holding yours, and he used his free hand to rub gentle circles on your lower back to comfort you. You breathed in his scent- a mix of dried sweat and blood with a hint of his perfume clinging to the fabric of his collar. It was a familiar scent, something that soothed you despite being thousands of feet in the air with no stable architecture to calm your nerves. You just had to trust that the Adepti architectures knew what they were doing when they built this pavilion.

"Okay," You whispered to him.

Surprisingly, the climb was easier than you initially expected. It did help that Childe was almost carrying you the rest of the way, but leaning into him was inevitable and unavoidable. It wasn't because you wanted to be buried deeper into his chest while he held you close to the point that the exposed skin on your lower back was starting to burn because his clothed fingers were just lingering there. No, definitely not that. You were simply prioritizing your safety.

"See? It wasn't that hard, right?"

"You could have told me that we'd be heading to the pavilion. I could have mentally prepared myself for the climb."

"Mentally prepare? I'm quite sure that clinging onto me the whole time put you at ease, hm?" You wanted to wipe the smug grin off his pretty face.

"Shut up before I make you, fatui."

He let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and clutching his sides.

"You're honestly too adorable for your own good." He stepped closer and moved the hair out of your face as you felt another strong breeze blow by.

"I said shut it!" You felt a rush of heat spread across your cheeks as his eyes scanned your flustered figure.

"Here, take a seat." He motioned to the stone seat facing the sunset. "I did tell you that I'd show you a beautiful sight tonight."

"I trust your taste, so it better be worth it."

"When have I ever lied to you?"

You shot him a look. As you were about to open your mouth to speak, he quickly interjected with a defeated sigh.

"Don't even answer that." You could only chuckle as he sat down beside you, inching closer and closer until your shoulders were brushing against each other. This wasn't really the first time that you and him have been this close with each other.

You and Childe have a... complex relationship, simply put. It's not like you were dating, but the way he treated you- with respect, with care, with love; You wanted to melt in his arms as easily as you could fight him with your sword. You weren't really sure if Childe had romantic feelings for you because he never really talked about it, but you could only go off on his actions, and they directed to the one conclusion that he did have feelings for you.

However, as your former partner in research, Albedo, once said, "Do not assume unless stated otherwise. Logic and officiality back facts as much as they debunk assumptions." In reality, it was so easy to understand. Theoretically, it was easier. However, now that you were there in that position where all signs pointed to Childe having romantic feelings for you, you didn't know what to believe in.

Did you want to trust your gut instinct, or did you want to wait until Childe made it official and clear? It was a mindboggling situation for you because you also found yourself enamored by him.

Why... Why were you even enamored in the first place?

Maybe it was because you adored how he talked about his family. You could just listen to him for hours on end as he fondly tells you the tales of his adventures with Tonia, Anthon, and Teucer. It was the way that his deep cerulean eyes lit up whenever you asked about short anecdotes about his family that he could comfortably share with you. He adored his family so much that it made you feel... jealous. Aether was your only family, and you were still on the pursuit to finding him, so you were envious of how Childe could still visit his family back in Snezhnaya if he wanted to. You? You weren't even sure if your brother was still in Teyvat.

Maybe it was how he always tended to your wounds after each time you sparred. Although Childe claims that he's nothing more than a bloodthirsty hound who wishes for nothing but power and glory, he really can't stand seeing you with an open wound or a bleeding nose. While Childe is primarily the reason behind your injuries, he'd also be the first to bring you gauzes, band-aids, and medicine from Bubu Pharmacy. You'd always be touched since he tends to you first before he paid any mind to the bruises and cuts that adorned his skin.

"Your health is my priority, comrade. After all. who else could match my skills in combat if not you? That's why you better take care of yourself, or better yet, allow me to take care of you instead." His words echoed in your head, and you blushed, realizing the possible implications of his statement.

Maybe it was his surprisingly sharp memory. Though Childe could never compare to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's Consultant, Zhongli, he would often shock you at how he remembered things so well- especially when it came to you. One time, for your birthday, he bought you a necklace with your birthstone as the main gem adorning the fabric. You only ever mentioned your birthday once, and it was at an awkward moment during Hu Tao's birthday celebration, that's why you didn't think Childe would remember it at all.

"I pay attention to you more than you think, dear. I also happen to store things in my memory bank if they're that important to me." You remembered how he laughed as he insisted on putting the necklace on for you. Your hand instinctively latched on to the beautiful gem resting on your chest.

Maybe it was the way he called for your name. Whether he said your name in a battle cry, as a greeting, or in the middle of him teasing you, you were absolutely intoxicated with the way that your name rolled off his tongue. The way the syllables just always seemed so right when it was Childe who spoke them. Often, he would call you comrade, dear, or another endearing nickname he managed to create on the fly. However, when he spoke your name, it was always magical for you.

"Happy birthday, dear _____. I hope you enjoy this present!"

"It seems as though you've defeated me today. No matter, _____. I'm sure I'll triumph over you tomorrow."

"You look lovely as always, _____. Want to spar with me?"

"_____."

"_____."

"_____."

You were snapped out of your little daze. Your name being called over and over again wasn't just a hallucination caused by your infatuation with the eleventh harbinger. He was actually calling for you.

"Hey, _____? Are you feeling okay?" You blinked a few times before you realized that his blue eyes were practically puncturing your own. They were glazed over with concern, a sign that he had been calling you for a while now.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry!" You jolted, straightening your posture. "I was just fascinated by the sky, is all. I didn't mean to startle you."

"The sky, you say? Were you really thinking of the sky? Perhaps you were thinking about me instead?" His tone was teasing, a little more relaxed now that he knew you weren't feeling ill.

"The sunset was lovely. Although I see it everyday in Liyue Harbor, viewing it from up here in the pavilion is truly sensational. Thank you, Childe." You spoke, ignoring his attempt at riling you up. Of course, you were also ignoring the fact that he hit the nail right on the head with his guess.

"You didn't deny it, girlie." His voice was like a melody in your ears, a sweet harmony that made you feel elated. Anyway, why would you deny it? You were a woman of principle, which means you detested lying. It doesn't count as lying if you neither confirmed nor denied his guess, right? Right, keep telling yourself that.

"Don't flatter yourself." Your curt reply was met by another laugh.

"It should be anytime now," His words met the wind and your unknowing ears.

"What is?"

"Let's just wait for a few moments. I took you up here to see something more than just the sunset, after all." He gave you a wink, to which you just huffed and turned your crimson face.

A few moments passed, and Childe was already bouncing his leg up and down; Something you knew he only did when he was anxious or frustrated about something.

"Is something the matter?" You asked, watching his face grimace.

"Ah, perhaps my predictions were wrong." He stood up to stretch. "We were supposed to see something more than just the sunset, but perhaps Celestia just didn't want our little date to go as smoothly as I initially planned."

Hang on.

Date?

This was a date?

Your heart was racing and your mind began to fill itself with unanswered questions, but Childe knew better than to keep you waiting more than you already were.

"Hey, darling?" Your stomach dropped at the use of this nickname. "Do me a favor. Focus on the sky and don't look away until I say so."

You gave him a nod, unable to form the words that would suffice as a comprehensible sentence. He had you tongue-tied with just a simple nickname.

He walked away from where you were seated, just a few paces to your right and a couple of steps back. He was far enough to the point where you couldn't see him in your peripheral, but close enough for you to hear the jiggling of the adornments and chains on his clothes. You knew that sound even if it came from a mile away. You had it memorized by heart because of how many times you heard it before your sparring sessions began.

He took out his bow and was aiming to shoot an arrow.

Admittedly, there was a little voice at the back of your mind warning you about the potential danger just a couple of feet away from you. However, you decided to fight against it, knowing that the "potential danger" was just Childe. He'd never hurt you, right?

Despite the trust that you put in the ginger, you still closed your eyes as you heard him release the string of his bow. The quiet whizz of the arrow flew by your head, and when you realized that he wasn't shooting at you, you carefully opened your eyes to see a bright blue arrow shooting across the sky.

Your mouth went agape at the consecutive hydro-infused arrows flying across the velvet sky bedazzled with stars. The moon's glow illuminated the scenery, which made the setting all the more romantic and intimate. The vibrant hues of green and blue mixed with each other in the sky, creating an aurora borealis.

You were marveling at the number of arrows crossing the sky.

They were like shooting stars, except... they reminded you of Childe.

Though you knew they were only faux shooting stars, you closed your eyes.

"Archons, if you could be so kind, please allow me to be with him." You whispered to yourself.

You then opened your eyes to see the last arrow slowly fading away from your vision, and the hydro vision holder you loved so much sheepishly standing in front of you.

"I thought that the shooting stars would be visible tonight, that's why I asked you to come with me up here. Turns out my predictions were wrong. Maybe Scaramouche was right about the stars being a lie." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You giggled and looked at him, signaling to continue what he had to say.

"Although they were fake, I hope you liked them. I brought you here so that we could wish on the shooting stars together." His face was growing red, and you wanted to run up and hug him, if only your pride would stop getting the best of you.

"I loved them, Childe. Thank you for asking me out here today." You stood up and gave his hair a light ruffle, laughing at how he mocked you for doing so.

"So, what did you wish for?" He asked, taking a few steps closer to you.

"W-Well, uh," You began to stumble on your words, which caused you to involuntarily take a step back. With each step you took, Childe did too.

"Hmm?"

He managed to back you up against the pillar in the middle of the pavilion, and was enjoying the face you made as he trapped you between his arms.

"F-For good health! Yes, good health!" Yes, lying was against your principles, but you couldn't just say straight to his face that you wished for a relationship with him now, could you?

"Good for you then. You wanna know what I wished for?" His face came extremely close to yours, and you could feel his breath on your cheek.

"Wh-What is it?"

"You."

Your eyes once again met his deep blue orbs and they softened when he was staring straight into your soul.

"Can I kiss you?"

You gave a light nod, and he finally closed the gap between your lips.

Albedo was wrong.

You can definitely believe an assumption if the signs were obvious enough.

Omake;

"You totally wished for us to be together right?!"

"Oh, for the love of the Tsaritsa, please shut up!"

"You totally did!"

"I am seriously going to push you off."

"You're so mean, girlie!"

In the name of Kimura Ryohei being the VA of Childe and Kise from Kuroko no Basket

[seonghwanotes]

i don't even know your name | jung wooyoung

pairing: idol!wooyoung x fan!reader

genre: fluff, comedy?, cringe tbh

word count: 3.8k wtf

a/n: this isnt good im sorry, this is an old repost and maybe in the future, ill rewrite it? merged 2 parts together so 😃 PLS I HATE THIS KDJSNSBD

a new era, more promotions, more atinys joining the fandom and more amazing concerts. that was the flow for every comeback the boys have had and it was another night for another show in one of the beautiful cities out of millions scattered around the world. the feeling was no less euphoric, the adrenaline rush never left their system, keeping them energized no matter how tired they were.

they were living their dreams and they never wasted a single second of it.

but, their last show went differently for jung wooyoung. throughout all his years of performing, wooyoung never expected himself to fall into a trap where even he couldn’t find a way out. he supported his head on his palm as he watched every vehicle pass by his as yeosang was driving to the nearest mcdonalds. usually, wooyoung would be chatting away with him, turning the radio off to get yeosang’s attention but today, he remained silent and kept sighing.

“what’s with the sighing, woo?”

he shook his head and continued staring outside. yeosang didn’t pester him and tried to think of what happened earlier today that could have caused him to stay this silent. the concert was perfect too; there weren’t any problems that they faced today. did something happen to the fans in the crowd that he could have noticed? possibly.

before yeosang could question wooyoung, he spoke out. “did you notice anything when we performed mist?”

yeosang shook his head briefly, making wooyoung continue. “it’s just that, i saw this girl, i assume she’s an atiny cause she was holding the lightstick you know, and like, i don’t know.”

yeosang joked, “you actually like someone other than san now?”

“i think so.” wooyoung answered back with a serious tone, making yeosang bring the car to a stop. there wasn’t much traffic on the road so it was still safe but if the police were doing their rounds, they would definitely get a fine. “dude, if you’re gonna stop the car, at least stop at a place where we wouldn’t get fined.”

yeosang was still in shock. not at the fact that he answered back to his question, but at how he actually fell in love with someone. that too, an atiny. yeosang proceeded to park the car in front of a convenience store and placed the gear in p. “can you… elaborate more?”

“i don’t know. i just happened to see her while we were performing mist, like when i sang the chorus, i don’t know how but i saw her. she wasn’t even at the front row, she was more to like, the middle? she was dressed up quite casually, nothing fancy, oh my god, yeosang, i don’t know, it’s driving me crazy.” wooyoung explained, grunting in frustration.

yeosang stared at him in shock. was he for real? “wooyoung-ah, you’re not playing around right?”

“why would i be playing around?” wooyoung replied back, sounding annoyed. he huffed and crossed his arms, leaning back into his seat. “forget that i even told you about this, you’re no help.”

“no, it’s not that. i’m just genuinely surprised, you’ve never been like this before. i wonder what did you see in her to make you feel this way.” he murmured, shifting the gear back to drive and drove to mcdonalds.

“her eyes and her smile.” wooyoung replied back, his eyes fixed on the road. “they looked magical and i felt like i was home when i saw her smile. i swear i felt a connection, i still feel weird from making eye contact with her.”

yeosang hummed, “it’s okay woo, maybe she’ll be at the fan meet tomorrow. try your best finding her there.” wooyoung sat straight, his head snapped towards yeosang. “you’re right, we still have the fan meet.” he nodded, finally reaching mcdonalds and went into the drive thru section.

while yeosang ordered the food for the boys, wooyoung took out his phone and scrolled through their twitter. he saw that their concert was trending so he clicked on it and went through the tweets. it was mostly update accounts and fans tweeting about it, some fans posted pictures of themselves with the lightiny, some posted videos of the concert, some posted edits of the concert.

one particular picture grabbed his attention, it was a picture of ateez performing mist and the fan had managed to capture the picture from a perfect angle and didn’t miss any detail of the background and the members. wooyoung smiled and unconsciously liked the tweet. he looked at yeosang, who was paying for the food and grabbed several paper bags filled with food. wooyoung offered a hand and placed them at the backseat, “is that all?”

“yeah, we’re good to go.” yeosang told wooyoung, thanking the mcdonalds assistant before driving off. it was a quicker drive from mcdonalds since yeosang sped a little and they reached their residence in no time. they brought the bags of food inside, capturing everyone’s attention as they gathered around the dining table.

“where’s hongjoong hyung?” wooyoung asked, after noticing he wasn’t around.

“he’s on a call, i think his mum called.” seonghwa answered, biting a piece of the chicken as wooyoung nodded. he felt quite hopeless as his mind wandered on about the girl who made his night special but also made him question her existence. he walked away to his room upstairs before san called out, making him stop in his tracks. “young-ah, where are you going?”

“i’m going to bed first, i don’t feel hungry.” he replied, “you guys enjoy the food, okay? good night.”

the members greeted him good night and continued their late night snacking despite the fan meet they had the next day. wooyoung walked inside his room and plopped on his shared bed with yeosang. why did it feel like it was going to be a long ride if he was going to find her? he sighed and got in bed, closing his eyes in defeat.

he felt miserable for not knowing her name to the very least, all he remembers is the warm smile that made him feel like home and her eyes that reflected the stars that night. he fell asleep, with high hopes of meeting the girl that’s been on his mind the whole day.

***

you were still thrilled from last night's events; attending your first ateez concert, having wooyoung lock eyes with you only for you to stay silent while the girls beside you were freaking out on behalf of you and when their official twitter account liked your tweet. it did feel crazy and surreal when you made eye contact with wooyoung, you were convinced he wasn't looking at you but he had his gaze on you the entire time during mist.

you wanted to tell your friend about this but you didn't want her to think you were full of yourself and wanted attention so you remained silent. the two of you were heading to the fan meet venue that afternoon and you were feeling nervous, not because you were excited to meet them but you were afraid to face wooyoung.

what if it's all just an illusion?

the room was filled with fans of the group and everyone dressed up either a little fancy or a little too revealing. you felt like you were sticking out like a sore thumb among all the gorgeous and handsome atinys. the boys weren't here yet so you went to grab a seat, where the only available ones were at the back. it was definitely going to take you some time so you chilled at the back with your friend, talking about your plans for the weekend.

minutes passed by and the crowd started roaring into cheers, making you look at the front. ateez was here. they came out and waved at the fans, greeted and bowed. everyone clapped their hands and cheered for them before the fan meet started. you were distracted by their looks and their cute decorations around the table and stage, not realising that wooyoung and yeosang were searching for her among all the atinys.

wooyoung's heart was racing, he wanted to meet the girl of his dreams, you could say. his eyes hungrily searched around the crowd as he donned a stunning smile and listened to the atinys who spoke to him, thanked them for every gift they gave him and tried his best to not lose focus.

yeosang, on the other hand, was trying to help out his buddy by searching for the girl of his description although it was impossible to find her at this rate for the fact only wooyoung would know how she looks like.

wooyoung didn't miss a single atiny and made sure he looked at them in the eyes, just to recognise her once more as her appearance started to be hazy in his mind. but nothing worked. he was disappointed, eventually losing hope that he was never going to find her and he wanted to give up.

right until he glanced to his left, noticing the last atinys who were in line for the fan meet and that's when he saw her.

she was here all this while.

the fan that sat in front of wooyoung was chatting away to him, while he kept glancing over to his left, eager to talk to her and to ask for her name and anything that would ensure that they didn't lose touch.

yeosang, who sat next to him, gave him a slight nudge to knock him back into reality. he turned back to the fan and continued talking to her, hoping time would pass by fast so that he could talk to her.

after a few fans, it was finally her turn. it was no one other than you. wooyoung looked at you like his whole life depending on you, making you feel different inside. the two of you were caught up in a tangled web for a second as no one breathed a word.

you snapped out of your trance and bowed at him, "hi, it's nice to meet you."

wooyoung fell in love that very second. you were the epitome of perfection to him, he was mesmerised with your gentle smile and your soft eyes that made him melt, to hear those words leave your lips, it sounded like music to his ears.

he didn't say anything when you spoke, his face was just in a state of shock and confusion, making you wonder if you uttered something wrongly. you felt uneasy for a second, so you looked at yeosang for help as he was watching the two of you. he caught on to your message and nudged him once again before he spoke to the girl in front of him.

wooyoung didn't say anything but he just looked down at your hands and sighed. even your hands were pretty, you didn't lack in anything at all.

"are you okay, woo?" you asked, bending down to see his face.

"huh?" he spoke, looking at you. "yes, yeah, i'm good."

"okay, well, you don't look so good," you laughed, making him shoot you a bright smile, squinting his eyes in the process. god, he was beautiful. before you were about to leave, you reached for your gift inside your bag and took it out.

you pushed the tiny box to him, "i got this for you. i'm not sure if you would like them but when i was buying a pair for myself, i saw this and i just thought "wooyoung would look stunning in them." so i just got this. who would have thought i would actually have the chance to give it to you?"

wooyoung took the box you gave him and he thanked you, opening the box. it had a pair of earrings in them, they were sparkling as the light from the ceiling reflected on them. it was definitely something of wooyoung's taste and he loved it. "thank you, this is really pretty."

"you're welcome, i hope it would go well with any outfit. i didn't know what to get for you, so i'm sorry." you apologised, adding a giggle which made wooyoung's heart flutter.

before the awkward silence could continue, time was up and you had to leave. wooyoung instantly went into panic mode as he didn't speak to you as much. "wait."

you looked up at him, with a confused look. "yeah?"

"can we take a picture together?" he asked you, taking his phone out.

your cheeks flushed a bright red shade, making you laugh once again at his odd request. "i'm supposed to be asking that, this is weird."

wooyoung laughed at his silly request and insisted on taking a picture with you. surreal wasn't even the word you could use to describe the situation you were in right now, how were you even lucky enough to take a picture with wooyoung?

the two of you took a picture together and it happened too quickly that you couldn't see how you looked. you frowned as you had to leave, the guard was rushing you to exit as time was up. "ahh, i hope i don't look bad there." you muttered, making wooyoung hush you up.

"no such thing, you're beautiful. any picture would look better with you in it." he said, making you stop breathing for a second. you were about to ask him for the picture since it was in his phone but the guards ushered you out.

you felt frustrated that you didn't get the picture from him, it wasn't like he could do anything with that picture but at least you could have it as your wallpaper. you did feel sad but you were satisfied with what had happened that day.

wooyoung didn't hesitate and posted the picture along with the gift you gave him on twitter. your phone was buzzing like crazy, fans found your twitter within seconds but your account was private so it was still fine but you were getting tagged non stop.

"wow, this man is crazy." you told yourself when you saw the tweet. his caption made your heart stop beating for a second, it said 'found my destiny through the uneasy mist~ thank you for today, atinys!'

jung wooyoung called you his destiny and it freaked you out. what did you want to do next? you went to the public bus stop and took a bus back home while you were still processing the whole incident.

back at the venue, wooyoung was thrilled that he found you and managed to get a picture of you. he didn't manage to get your social media but he was beyond happy that he got a picture with the girl of his dreams; his destiny.

yeosang approached him and gave him a pat on the shoulders, watching him being mesmerised over the picture. "so, what's her name?"

wooyoung gasped, dropping his phone on the clothed floor, saving his phone from cracks. he looked at yeosang and groaned. yeosang was confused, "why? what's wrong?"

wooyoung was back to his frustrated state as he told yeosang, "i didn't ask for her name."

hence, he was back to square one. searching for you, while all he had was your picture, your gift and the endearing smile that he would never forget.

---

the whole group was annoyed and frustrated with wooyoung as he forgot to ask for your name and he was complaining about it non-stop after the fan meet. it was getting on everyone’s nerves but no one bothered telling him to shut up knowing how he would react back. seonghwa was patient enough to lend him his ears and hear him out while thinking of what to tell him so that he’ll calm down.

but he had no luck finding you after that.

you, on the other hand, took the matter lightly but still felt appreciated by wooyoung although that was the first time you've met him and he was already head over heels with you. you dismissed the thought of wooyoung lingering in your head everyday, making you wonder if you should take a break from social media as you were always thinking of him everywhere you went. it started to freak you out a little, at times making you wish you didn't attend the fan meet.

your short trip was happening over the weekend and you didn't have much to do so you decided to leave a day earlier. you got your stuff packed and you booked the last flight to seoul which was around 11.00p.m.. you had a 2 week long semester break and you cancelled all your plans just to travel alone to give yourself a break.

you walked into the airport, which was almost vacant due to the time, staffs were prepared to leave after completing their morning and afternoon shifts while some staffs rolled in for the night shift. it was a chilly night, you just had your sweatpants and a hoodie on which provided you with enough warmth to mask the coldness.

sleep was all you wanted that night as you barely got any from doing your work and decided to leave early, making you wish you stuck with your original plan. you pulled your suitcase slowly, eyes fixated on the floor while you walked. not paying attention to your path, you accidentally bumped into a person and their things fell onto the floor.

guilt washing over you, you were knocked out of your sleepy state when the person hissed at you and cursed. you bent down, offering to help him out as his stuff fell out. “can you please pay attention if you're walking next time?”

you mumbled an apology while you gathered his things and passed it to him. you were about to pick up the last item and it struck you that the box looked somewhat familiar. almost all too familiar. you shot up, wanting to hand him the box but you stopped when you saw his face.

a face that you were familiar with when he wore makeup but he was barefaced this time yet he was no less attractive. you felt your heart tug to see him once again, easing your worries over him.

you were eye to eye with jung wooyoung once again.

when he saw you, he regretted yelling at you. it was obvious that you were taken aback by the person instead of his words, you instantly stood straight and bowed at him out of respect. wooyoung repeated the same and the two of you were quiet once again. you looked at your hands, seeing that you still held the box and you passed it to wooyoung.

“oh, um, i think this is yours.” you muttered. he took the box and thanked you, before running a hand through his hair.

“sorry, i didn’t know it was you. what brings you here?” he asked you, making your heart skip. he recognised you?

pointing a finger at yourself, you asked, “you know me?”

he nodded, pushing his glasses above with his index finger. “yeah, we took a picture that day, didn’t we? and you gave me this.” he stated, pointing to his ear where he wore the earring. you were dumbfounded, he actually wore it and he remembered you. you felt your cheeks heating up and wooyoung noticed that, making him blush as well.

“i’m going to seoul for the weekend, maybe spend a longer time there.” you answered his previous question. he nodded, looking down at his feet. it was funny, how both of you were so quiet yet he didn’t leave. not realising time was going by, you heard another familiar voice echo in the airport, making both of you turn your heads to the direction the voice came from.

the rest of ateez had their arms crossed, looking at wooyoung as they waited for him to join them so that they could fly to their next destination. they surely didn’t want to rush him to end his conversation otherwise they would have to deal with his annoying rave. but, they had no choice as they were about to miss their flight.

your heart sank knowing that wooyoung had to leave and wooyoung felt disappointed as well. not wanting to make the same mistake again, he looked at you with hopeful eyes. “hey, um, we should definitely catch up some other time, if you don’t mind, of course. are you up for some coffee or stuff like that?” he trailed off.

you nodded, yearning to see him again someday. “yeah, of course. do we exchange numbers or social media?” you asked, wanting to keep this lowkey without involving kq into it. he thought for a brief second and asked for your phone, which you gave without hesitation once again. he typed in his number and saved it as ATEEZ Wooyoung, making you giggle.

“jung wooyoung!” you heard a member yell, telling him to hurry up.

he got anxious and thanked you for the time you spared before he ran off. you felt a little funny on the inside, jung wooyoung of ateez wanted a picture with you and gave you his number. it was adorable of him to do so, but your time with him for the day was over in a glimpse again.

when wooyoung went to his group, they were all eager to know what happened. yeosang, without missing a second, asked, “what’s her name?”

“shit! i forgot!” he cursed, covering his mouth right away. his manager told them to hurry up and the boys started walking off, while yeosang waited for wooyoung to do something. san looked at wooyoung, “wooyoung-ah, there’s no time left. it’s either you don’t ask for her name or you yell right now.”

he sighed and nodded. without hesitation, wooyoung looked at you and yelled.

“HEY!”

there was almost no one at the departure hall but his voice was loud enough to scare a sleeping bug. you looked up and saw him waving hysterically at you. being clueless, you waved back as your heart did things to you.

“what’s your name?” he yelled. you didn’t want to yell it back, considering that some people were around so you decided to text him instead, swiping to your messaging app and you typed a quick text to him.

wooyoung’s phone ringed and he quickly whipped it out, seeing a text from a new number. he tapped on his notification and to his relief, your name popped up on the screen. “y/n. wow, y/n.” he breathed out.

“okay! thank you, y/n! i’ll text you soon! see you later!” he yelled back, his voice echoing through the airport.

you nodded and waved at home, watching him disappear as he walked away. his heart was racing and he ran to catch up with his members, boarding the plane and sitting at his assigned seat. san who was seated next to him, tapped his thigh, “so, did you ask for her name?”

he nodded, a smile never leaving his face. he leaned back into his seat and let out a deep breath. “a beautiful name for a beautiful person with a kind soul, y/n.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Open Me Carefully

summary: spencer reid and reader are best friends, but don’t realize that they both love each other. 

author’s note: crappy summary, but this one is loosely based on gold rush 

warnings: none

Open Me Carefully 

Maybe it’s the fact that I have a propensity to keep rereading historical romances, or maybe it’s the fact that I just listen to “Lover” way too much for a single person. Or maybe, I’m actually in love with him, my best friend and the only person in this world who I think truly knows me. 

I mean, how could I not be completely in love with him. Spencer Reid is the closest thing to perfection. He is kind, brilliant, and unbelievably handsome. It almost hurts me how wonderful he is. But daydreaming about Spencer’s hair falling in his eyes, or his hands grazing across the map spread out on the table, or even his wide smile that slips out when he lets his guard down is not productive to solving crimes. 

Unsubs, Y/N. Unsubs. Stop thinking about his hands. And start focusing. 

“Y/N/L!” Calls Hotch from across the room. He’s assigned me to locate the birth mother of the potential unsub. He was given up for adoption as an infant, but bounced around from foster home to foster home, never finding a home, and now obsessed with finding his roots. 

“Yes, sir, here’s the name from Garcia. Susan Lee gave up her baby for adoption in 1981, she was a just 16 years old, so that would make her-”

“44 years old” Spencer injected. 

Hotch gave me a short nod of approval and I cocked my head towards Spencer’s direction, who tried to pull off an innocent look. 

“It’s math, Y/N. I can’t help myself,” he explains. 

“It’s fine, Spence. Math is like your religion,” I tell him, but what I’m really thinking is it’s you, Spence, and you can get away with anything with me. 

“Math, in its purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else” he remarks. 

“Who’s that Nietzsche?” I ask him as he beams down at me, twirling a blue permanent mark between his very distracting fingers. 

“No, Spencer Reid.” he says as he turns back to the map on the table before us.

Just as I give myself the smallest bit of a second to enjoy the playful banter that falls between us, JJ and Emily come walking in, leading a gruff looking detective with them. 

“We think we know where Jacob is hiding out,” JJ starts with a grim look on her face. Emily and the detective walk past her to where Hotch and Derek explain the profile to the SWAT team waiting by. 

“His old orphanage, right?” Spencer asks looking up from the map.

“Yeah, and we think he’s going to hold some of the other children hostage,” JJ tells us. 

“We need to get there, JJ. But isn't it his mother he wants, not the other children. You’d think that with the profile we came up with, it would make more sense for him to want to save the children, not hold them hostage?” I reason.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Spencer says, coming to a dark realization “he thinks that he’s saving them. He’s Angel of Death” he finishes grimly. 

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

Sitting quietly in the jet after the chaos of de-escalating a hostage situation is a calm like no other. We all have routines for the ride home. A quiet ritual that we take the time to be thankful that we’re all here, in one piece, having made the world slightly more safe. 

JJ, ever diligent, will work on paper with Hotch. Rossi will usually keep Hotch from overworking with a small, light conversation. 

Emily spreads out on the couch, and the rest of us pretend to not see JJ glance over at her as she looks at Emily with eyes that crave her attention.  

Derek will listen to music and I’ll close my eyes and strain my ears to make out the muffled tunes that escape his ears. I sit across from Derek and will share snacks that we grabbed from a dingy convenience store on the way to the tarmac. 

Spencer, who always sits next to me, will usually write his mother a letter. He writes her a letter on every plane ride after a case. I think back to the time that I asked him why he prefers letters to phone calls. He told me that he finds letters a forever way to say ‘I love you’. Taking your love and turning it into pen and paper makes it tangible, is what he told me. Until that day, I never really pegged Spencer to be a poet, but he continues to amaze me everyday. 

I think that he can feel me staring at him, because he suddenly stops writing and his eyes look up to meet mine. 

“She’s not doing so well, Y/N” Spencer says, his voice but a whisper above the hum of the jet and music spilling from Morgan’s headset. 

“Your mom?” I ask, my voice matching his. 

Spencer, for perhaps the first time I’ve known him, is quietly defeated.

“All I ever wanted to do was to save her, Y/N. Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing everything I should be. I thought that by the time I was 30 I would have cured schizophrenia. It’s just that sometimes I feel like maybe I settled” 

“Well, you know we really don’t hear about child genius when they are adults. And you have the same job and me, and I’m not where near as smart as you. So you feel like you’re letting the world down or even worse— yourself”

“You might not have the IQ points on a piece of paper, but you are nothing short of brilliant” Spencer says looking at me directly in my eyes. I hold his gaze for maybe a second and look down towards my lap in disbelief. 

“Spence,” I say. “You have to say that, otherwise I’d stop making you chocolate donuts.”

“I don’t need your donuts to convince me that you are an amazing agent. I mean,” He pauses and holds my stare again. 

“You’re so kind it hurts me sometimes. And watching you those kids today, you’d be a great mom, Y/N. You make everyone feel so comfortable just being around you, and I’d give up all the chocolate donuts and IQ points and bottomless coffee if it meant you’d stay in my life,” Spencer says looking at me. I rest my hand over his and we sit there in the silence and comfort of the other. 

Spencer Reid is a man of many hats. But I think his way with words just may be my favorite. I don’t dare to respond to him. I don’t trust myself not to kiss his pink lips as he looks at me like he loves me. I don’t trust myself to not tell him all the wonderful and sinful things I think about him. I don’t trust myself to not tell him how I was watching him play with those orphans back at the police station.

“What’s a best friend for, Spence?” I say to him. 

“Besides, ’d want nothing more than to be a mom one day,” I tell him.  We never really talked about our futures. Maybe it was the nature of our jobs. Having a lethal job means that the future is more of an arbitrary idea than a definite possibility.

“But,” I start. “I'm twenty-seven years old, I've no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents and I'm frightened” I quote with a smirk on my face that covers my trepidation at talking about love and children and the future with Spencer. 

“I’d never think that you’d be one to settle for a Mr. Collins, Y/N” Spencer tells me, a similar look on his face mirrors my own. “If anything, you’re a Lizzie and you deserve a Mr. Darcy” 

“You really think that Spence, because I’m not too sure.” 

“You never know, Y/N your Mr. Darcy can be anyone. Statistically speaking, you may have already met him or have mutual friends or he may even work in the Bureau. 

Sometimes I think that luck and fate are mocking me. Dangling Spencer in front of me; so real yet so far that I’m jumping to remain close to him. Touching his hand to mine feels like I’m teasing myself, just getting a taste of how his warm, strong hands fit into mine is enough to set my heart on fire. 

I let go of his hand and my palm is cold and lonely without his touching. My heart cools but there’s a yearning for him that’s so strong it’s like a magnetic field pulling me in. 

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee, would you like some?” He asks me as he scoots out of the seat.

“I’ll take a green tea, coffee this late makes me anxious” And sitting here holding your hand talking about children and my Mr Darcy makes me even more anxious. 

“Coming right up,” he says with a sad smile on his face that I try to convince myself is because of his mother’s illness and not because I dropped his hand.

Spencer returns to his spot beside me, sipping his coffee and making small notes in his letter. There’s a chill between us that can’t be quelled by even the hottest cup of tea. Spencer doesn’t talk to me again and even though it’s just a couple more hours, I miss his voice.

I have a routine for when I come home after cases, but that routine has been thrown out the window when I watched Spencer walk out of the bullpen without as much as a wave goodbye. We usually go to my apartment and make dinner together. My trip home is a lot more lonely without Spencer by my side. I try to stop my thoughts from going to him, but it’s impossible when he’s all I can think about. 

My apartment is dark and quiet when I walk in. It was left in shambles, with clothes and books strewn all over the couch, desk and floor. I can’t even bother myself to care about the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. I convince myself that those dishes are a tomorrow problem. 

I take out a small container of leftover fried rice and vegetables and pop into the microwave. Making my way into my bedroom I change out of my work clothes, that I’ve been in for nearly 30 hours. I don’t really think about what I’m putting on, as long as it does not smell it works with me at this point. 

My microwave dings, altering me that my mediocre meal is finished. But, before I can even reach the kitchen a small envelope slips through my door and falls on the floor. A sudden rush of fear courses through me. I flit my eyes to the corner safe where my gun rests. In my mind, I try to calculate the risk of punching the code or if I should just find out who is behind my door. I guess curiosity wins out, because I’m walking towards the door where the mysterious envelope sits. 

I reach down and instantly recognize the handwriting as Spencer’s. I can feel my heart pumping blood through my bodying as I think that some sadistic unsub is trying to toy with me by hurting Spencer.

I was not prepared for what I read. My fingers grazed over the messy penmanship. I don’t even let my mind wander as I pour over the words on the page, still fearing for the worse

Dear Y/N, 

Part of me can’t believe that I’m actually doing this. But something that you mentioned on the plane sparked something in me. You’re not a Charlotte, or a Lizzie or even a Jane, even though you are the kindest and most beautiful person I know. 

You are a Y/N. And I am wishing for anything to be your Mr. Darcy. Thinking about you, Y/N gets me thinking about love. How much I love when you look at me across from the table, or how your soft hands will brush against mine. It reminds me that I’m alive. Your gaze makes me blush and those small brushes make me forget to breathe. In your eyes I can see my future— our future. In your smile I can taste happiness. When I am with you the world moves in slow motion and time seems to move too fast. 

I hope that this does not ruin things, Y/N. I could not bear to lose you. I hope that you won’t hate me but even if you do, I’d rather you hate me and be in your life than not be in your life.

I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still

Forever yours, 

Spencer

I read the letter silently. Not sure if I can believe it, but I so desperately want to. I throw all sense to the wind when I fling the door open, my eyes hunting for Spencer. He sits on the steps leading up to the next level, fiddling with his shoe laces. I run over to where he sits, not caring that my neighbors might be looking or caring that I look like I’m about to mug him. 

He makes me, cautious girl, a rebel. 

“Hey, you,” I say approaching him. Spencer moves to stand up and I reach out to hold his hands in mine. Like a puzzle piece they hit perfectly. His hands are not too warm or clammy or too cold and boney. They’re perfect. He hesitates and rubs his thumb against the back of my palm, like he does on the plane. 

“Hi, Y/N.” He starts nervously. “I guess you got the letter, and I just want to tell you-”

“What letter, Spence?” I say. I can’t help but to tease him. His face turns pale and green in the same breath. 

“Uh-um, you didn’t just get something in your mail a couple minutes ago?” He asks me so nervously that I almost feel bad at teasing him. Almost, he’s kind of cute when he’s stumbling over his words and I like to be one that makes him this fluttery. 

“I got your letter, Spencer,” I tell him. I think he half expects me to drop his hand and shatter his heart then and there. Maybe he came here and prepared himself for the worse. I think he’s done that his whole life, believing that he doesn’t deserve a chance at happiness. I’m kind of inclined to give him that happiness when it’s so intricately tied to mine. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, who knew that you were quite the poet, Spencer.” I tell him as I brush his hair from his eyes. It’s gotten so long, but I like it. I’ve dreamt about threading my fingers threw it many times. It’s so soft and brown and frames his face. 

“You deserve a poet, Y/N. And I could only dream of being that person for you.” He says. Against even his own wishes he leans in closer to my touch. His cheek is warm in my palm and I feel his long eyelashes flutter against the ball of my thumb. 

“Luckily for you, Spence, I like scientists.” I say to him. 

“You--” 

“I love you back, Spencer.” I move to wipe the tears that flood down the bridge of his nose. 

“It was a really beautiful letter that you wrote, Spencer. All the right things in there, Emily Dickinson and Mr. Darcy,” I tell him pressing my cheek into his chest. 

“Well, I had to win you over, Y/N” 

“Ha!, Spencer you’ve had me since I’ve met you” 

He looks at me with a veil of disbelief. 

“Spencer Reid, in his purest form, is a beauty known nowhere else” 

“Is that what you think of me?” He asks me. 

“Why don’t you come inside and let me show you what I think of you Spencer?” I say leading him inside to my apartment, that was no longer so dark and lonely. 

[someone1348]

Another one *mind blown!*

Haha anyways enough of me being werid here is a small fic because i feel soft today and its been a good day! Let's goooo!

People in this: Ler!Techno and Lee!Tommy

(PLATONIC!!!)

Plot: Baby Tommyint was left alone for Techno to babysit while phil and will went out to the store, what could go wrong

Tw: None this is so soft and adorable i can't

With that being said enjoyyyy :]

___________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Munchkin

It felt like a normal afternoon, wasting the day in his room, punching things, ploting ideas on how to over throw the government. You know the normal Techno things when,

"Tech! Im going out to the grocery store and im taking Will with me! You're in charge of Tommy while we're out! No killing him, hurting him, handing him dangrous objects or burning down the house while we're gone! K'?!"

No! This can't be happening! Technoblade jumped out of his bed rushing down the stairs to confront his dad and slightly younger brother.

"Woahwoahwoahwoah! You can't do this to me! You know how i am with kids! Me and children do not mix! Why can't you take him with you? Or Will stays and watches him while i go with you"

"Sorry Tech my mind is made up, we are leaving, now be nice and no murder got it"

"But-"

"Techhh"

"Ughhhhh fine! Fine! I wont punt the kid"

"Good, let's go will"

"Coming!" Will smirked at techo sticking out his tongue

Techno glared at him before waving the two off turning around to see the younger who had already reached out to touch Techno's long hair before retracting his hand back.

"No touch"

"Lame" the tiny blonde went to his room getting a cheese stick while techno rolled his eyes going to his own room down the hall

'This is going to be a long night'

Its not that Techno hated kids he just didn't know how to take care of them and that didn't sit well with him there was just something about em' he couldn't ever figure it out.

Not even two minutes later a small knock was placed on his door.

He sighed "yesssss"

"You're supposed to take care of me"

"And?" Techno said opening up the door

"And im bored so fix it, play with me!" the young one said staring up at the pink haired male

"Yeah no, fix it yourself bud im not playing with you"

Tommy rolled his eyes going downstairs hoisting himself with all his might onto the big couch rolling over onto one of the cushions just barley making it, catching his breath before turning on the tv to some cartoon he liked.

Tommy groaned annoyed from boredom and a bit sad that his big brother didn't wanna play with him.

Soon enough he began to cry a bit quickly whiping them away, he's a big man afterall he doesn't cry! But he just wants to play with his big brother.

Light footsteps approached the kid

"You cryin'?"

"N-no! I dont cry! Im a big man!"

"Mhm, come here" Techno sat next to the blonde pulling him into a hug

Techno didn't understand what was happening or what he just did but something in him was different, Tommy was family and no way in hell was he gonna let him cry.

He lightly sighed turning off the Tv "What do you wanna play butthead"

"PIRATES!!!"

The pinkette couldn't stop the growing smile on his face and he let this new found playful attitude take over him

'Ah what the hell what did he have to lose'

"Arggggg!" Techno said with his deep/raspy voice "prepare to walk the plank matey!"

"Argg no! Its you who walks the plank!" Tommy stood up pointing a pencil at techo

"Ah ha but that's were you're wrong see i also have defense!" He grabbed another pencil from the nearby coffee table pointing it eraser end at the kid as to not harm him with the sharp side

"Uhh whats the word? I dont know how to say it"

"On gaurd!"

"Yeahh!! Ha!" Baby Tommy said taking a swing at his older brother as the two slapped there pencils together like swords

"Boop! I win!!" Tommy said as he poked the pencil into Techno's chest

"Ahh nooo you got me!" Techno flopped down on his back snatching Tommy up in the process lifting him in the air and back down as he giggled up a storm.

Techno safely put the pencils back, drawing his attention back to his younger brother.

"You know stabbing me was not cool Tommy" Techno joked with the kid as Tommy's smile turned into a frown

"Sorry! I- i didn't-"

"You need to be careful who you mess with Tom's because they might come back to bite you!"

He swiftly picked up the kid again, as he squeaked, digging into his stomach soft enough to not hurt him of course but definitely enough to tickle alot

"EE! NAHAHAHAHA TEHEHEHE" the kid tried to say his name but couldn't which to that Techno smirked and continued his tickle attack.

"This is what happens when you mess with the wrong person kid" He lightly giggled and tickled the boys sides

"Eee! HAHAaha tehehechnoho! Stahahap!"

"Hmmmm nope! Tickletickletickletickle"

He teased the boy switching between his sides and stomach occasionally dipping quickly into his bellybutton to watch him squeak every so often.

"nahahAHAhahAH! tehe-HEHEheHEY!"

"Im gonna getcha'!"

"Nohohoho!"

The older squeezed his knee earning a quick kick before using the end of his long braided pink hair to tickle his neck

"Pfft ehehew get awahahay"

Techno laughed and wiggled the pink hair all over his face to keep him giggling

"Ehehewww it got in my mouth! Haha"

"Thats what you get punk" He ruffled the blonde's hair and sat him up straight.

"You want ice cream?"

The boy's eyes lit up and he nodded rapidly

"Okay okahay let's go" he carried the boy with one hand to the kitchen making a small bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry.

"Thank you Technooo!"

"Anytime Munchkin, but you can't tell Phil or Will about this Okay?"

The boy nodded shoving a spoonful into his mouth.

As the boy finished techno put the bowl in the sink filling it with water.

The door opened

"We're home!!"

"DAD! WILL!!" the youngest ran out to greet his family hugging their legs tightly

"Welcome back"

"How was it?"

"Really good actually"

"Yeahh!" The kid agreed jumping up and down.

"Good im glad that's great news, maybe i should leave you two alone more often"

"Sounds good to me"

"Im shocked" Will said laughing a bit

"Ha ha you're hilarious" Techno said in his usual sarcastic tone

"Tech Tech can we play again pleaseeeeeee"

"Its getting late we will play tomorrow yeah?"

"Ughhh willlll can we please play piano gameee pleaseee"

"You heard the man it's getting late go to bed Champ"

"Okayyyyy G'night Techno! G'night Dadza! G'night Willl!"

"Goodnight Munchkin'" Techno ruffled the boy's hair before pushing him lightly making him giggle and ran to his room.

"Munchkin?" Phil said smirking

"Oh shut your mouth old man"

"You wanna go tech"

"Uhhhhh ha ha ill be in my room it was nice! Goodnight everyone ha ha ha-ZOOM!" he ran out and nervously laughed as Phil laughed and and smiled

"You'll get him one day dadza"

"Oh i plan on it as soon as the fucker wakes up"

"Hahaha"

"You're not safe either will" he smirked at him as will booked it to his room too

"Hahaha"

Phil smiled and walked to his room leaving on the bathroom light for Tommy.

"Goodnight boys!"

"Night dad!!"

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

Please! This was so adorable to make im definitely making a part two! I hope y'all enjoyed :]

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Heat Wave

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Mick Rory, also known as Heat Wave. Patient suffers from pyromania and cryophobia; the intelligence test administered upon his admission also suggests that he may have a mild intellectual disability. Session One. 

Heat Wave: Hi, Doc! It’s nice to meet you! 

Hugo Strange: (a bit taken aback) Hello, Mr. Rory. 

Heat Wave: You can call me Mick, Doc. Everybody does. 

Hugo Strange: Very well. Mick, do you know why you are here at Arkham Asylum? 

Heat Wave: I guess they finally decided I was sick enough to be sent here instead of prison. I know I’m not right in the head, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Actually, no. You’re here because Iron Heights is currently incapable of housing costumed criminals, and a series of bewildering judicial and bureaucratic decisions resulted in all of you“Rogues” being transferred to Arkham until such time as Iron Heights is repaired. That being said, I am glad to hear that you are aware that you have a problem, as it means that you have overcome the first hurdle on the road to recovery. 

Heat Wave: (Pleased) Really, Doc? Boy, am I glad to hear that. 

Hugo Strange: Mick, according to your file, you suffer from pyromania and cryophobia. Is that accurate? 

Heat Wave: Yeah. (Brief pause) That’s what all the shrinks tell me, anyway...and I’ve seen a lot of ‘em over the years. 

Hugo Strange: Yes. And I am certain that you will be pleased to hear that I have experience in treating pyromania. You see, Mick, Arkham Asylum happens to have its own resident pyromaniac. 

Heat Wave: You talkin’ about Garfield Lynns? The Firefly? 

Hugo Strange: Yes, actually. 

Heat Wave: (Clearly nervous) He’s here? Now? 

Hugo Strange: Does that concern you, Mick? 

Heat Wave: Yeah. It...it does, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Any particular reason?

Heat Wave: I’ve heard things about him, Doc. Bad things. 

Hugo Strange: What sorts of things have you heard, Mick? 

Heat Wave: That he...that he deliberately sets people on fire ‘cause he wants to watch ‘em burn. That he’s a pervert; that he burned his girlfriend alive ‘cause he couldn’t be happy with her unless she was on fire. That he burnt down a zoo to learn what a bunch of dumb, innocent animals looked like when they were on fire. I’ve even heard he intentionally set a little boy on fire once-a kid! How could...how could anyone do that to a kid? (Pause) I’m a sick, sick man, Doc, I’m not denying that. I know I’m the last person who should throw stones about something like this...but Lynns sounds like a psychopath. He sounds like he likes hurting people. I...I don’t wanna be like that, Doc. And I’m scared. I’m scared that that’s what my pyromania’s gonna turn me into. Bad enough that I hurt people when I set buildings on fire...bad enough that I killed my family when I accidentally set our home ablaze….I don’t want to do what he does. I don’t want to go around setting people on fire!

Hugo Strange: Mick, mental illnesses display differently in every sufferer. The fact that you and Mr. Lynns share a common mental illness does not mean that you are necessarily at risk of starting to behave in the way that he does. He has a more serious case of the disease than you do; consequently, his behavior is more destructive and aberrant than yours. 

Heat Wave: Are you sure, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: Quite sure, Mick. If your extensive file is to be trusted-and given the sheer volume of psychologists who have contributed to it, I believe it is-you have never, at any point, expressed any excitement at the idea of a person being on fire. As such, I have no reason to believe that you would take up the habit of deliberately lighting people on fire. 

Heat Wave: But what if I get worse? 

Hugo Strange: Given the diligence with which you apparently seek out therapy even when not incarcerated, I don’t think that your condition is likely to exacerbate, Mick.

Heat Wave: Come again?

Hugo Strange: As long as you continue to seek treatment, you’re not going to get worse.

Heat Wave: Doc, you have no idea how happy you’ve just made me! (Starts crying) 

(Long, awkward pause as Heat Wave cries and Hugo Strange attempts to make soothing “there, there” type noises) 

Hugo Strange: (Clears throat) I am glad that I was able to ease your mind, Mick. 

Heat Wave: (Sniffling) What do you think we should talk about now, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: To be honest, the first question that comes to mind is how you have survived so long as a criminal when you’re willing to weep so openly and readily over something comparably minor. I was under the impression that such behavior would be viewed as a weakness to be taken advantage of, Mick.

Heat Wave: I’m six foot four and weigh 240 pounds, and pretty much everyone knows that I’m a pyromaniac. That tends to intimidate people into keeping their mouths shut. (Pause)  I...I actually don’t much like fighting, and the sight of blood makes me feel a little ill, but almost nobody knows that because pretty much everybody’s too wary of me to try picking fights. The guys who are dumb enough to try get pummeled by Digger and Evan before they ever get to me. See, that’s the thing with the Rogues. If you pick a fight with one of us, you pick a fight with all of us...and Digger and Evan fight really dirty. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you’ve survived because your reputation precedes you. (Pause) And, I suppose, because you have a pair of excessively violent friends. 

Heat Wave: Pretty much, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: In speaking of your friends...why did you join the Rogues, Mick? Serial arsons motivated by your illness aside, you don’t exactly strike me as a career criminal. 

Heat Wave: I...I was hoping to turn the pyromania into a gimmick. I thought that maybe...maybe it would help me get my sickness under control if I used it as a theme. Dumb idea, I know, but I was desperate. And in my early twenties. That makes you stupid by definiton. 

Hugo Strange: And why are you still with them, Mick? Is it the money? 

Heat Wave: No. It’s because they became my new family, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Wanting to build a new family for yourself is an understandable motivation, Mick...but wouldn’t you be better off finding one that isn’t entirely composed of violent career criminals? 

Heat Wave: Probably...but Doc, the world wouldn’t be. The Rogues are the only family I can have, because they’re the only ones who can protect themselves from me. I destroyed my first family. I...I can’t risk doin’ it again. 

Hugo Strange: So in order to protect people from you, you help a bunch of career criminals rob banks and jewelry stores whilst wearing a fireproof suit, calling yourself Heat Wave, and wielding a flamethrower? I don’t understand your logic, Mick. 

Heat Wave: (Pause) You know, somehow it makes a lot less sense when you say it. 

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) I believe you honestly mean well, Mr. Rory. Unfortunately, you have very little common sense; most likely stemming from the fact that, as the intelligence tests that were administered to you suggest, you are mildly intellectually impaired. 

Heat Wave: I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that, Doc. The guys are always tellin’ me that I’m a bit slow. 

Hugo Strange: Fortunately, with enough therapy, I believe that we will be able to help you overcome your mild cognitive impairments. 

Heat Wave: Sounds great, Doc! 

Hugo Strange: You are by far one of the most cooperative patients I have ever encountered, Mick, and I would like to thank you for that. 

Heat Wave: Hey, Doc, no problem! With all that you’re doin’ to help me, I should be thanking you! 

Hugo Strange: That won’t be necessary, Mick. I am simply doing my job. (Pause) Now tell me, Mick-what do you think of the Flash? 

Heat Wave: The Flash? He’s great. I’ve never met a nicer guy. 

Hugo Strange: You...like the Flash? 

Heat Wave: Of course! (Pause) Just...don’t tell the guys, okay?

Hugo Strange: Nothing you say is leaving this room, Mick. You do not have to worry about my telling anyone, including your fellow “Rogues”. 

Heat Wave: Oh. Good. (Pause) Yeah, I like the Flash. He wants to help everybody. He’s even gotten me into contact with some of my therapists.

Hugo Strange: Fascinating. (Pause) Unfortunately, we have reached the end of today’s session. I will see you the same time tomorrow, Mick. 

Heat Wave: Okay, Doc! See you then!