#you don’t handle them well and sir you really need to get some stress relief techniques before you get Uber mad with your kids

[enigma-absolute]

Me, having an ‘older sister moment’ conversation with my half-sister: so yeah you know how I’m on the spectrum?

Half-sister: yeah?

Me: so is dad. I had to get it from somewhere.

Half-sister: really? Well… I was kinda suspecting it tbh, here’s a bunch of symptoms about him

Me: oh yeah, he is SO on the spectrum

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Characters: Hunting Demon-Slayers

You know, a lot of the time stories emphasize the fitness of monster-hunters and demon-slayers. To quote that bit from MiB, “the best of the best of the best, sir!”

I think this is a mistake. For some of the same reasons as Agent Kay. Yes, physical capabilities and fast reflexes would help, especially when up against supernatural strength and speed a la Hollywood demons and vampires. But what do you really need in order to fight Things Man Was Not Meant to Know?

You need to find people willing to do what it takes when their hands are shaking. When the threat has come out of nowhere, and it’s nothing they expected to face, ever. Stop thinking soldiers and special forces. Start thinking retail.

Cashiers. Bartenders. Inventory stockers. Anyone and everyone who has to face “WTH” on a semi-daily basis. Because there is no end to the lame-brained, cockeyed, absolutely ridiculously dumb and life-threatening stunts our fellow human beings will pull; everything from levering the bottommost container out of a balanced stack to dumping kerosene in with the matches to threatening to shoot a service worker for checking their ID. While they’re on camera.

People who work retail without having a psychotic break can probably handle your demons, aliens, and invaders from non-Euclidean geometries. More, they’d probably be glad to handle them. The pay’s got to be better, for one thing. They might actually get sick leave when needed. And if they can actually shoot the nastier customers - well, you’d have no shortage of applicants. Eager and willing. Heck, you’d be beating them off with a stick. Fight soul-sucking salt vampires from the Andromeda Galaxy, or spend another week, month, decade keeping your professional cool in the face of human idiocy? Decisions, decisions.

Also you have to take into account that there’s more to reacting quickly than just fast reflexes. Reflexes definitely give you an edge. But they don’t do squat if your brain is overriding them with outright panic and confusion. The mental Blue Screen of Death is a real thing.

If you’re fighting supernatural monsters from Hell, you need someone whose WTH-meter is broken. Sanity-destroying monsters have a harder time doing damage to someone whose give-a-damn is well and truly busted.

If that’s making you take a second look at retail workers in your story - good. The jobs have high turnover for a reason. People who last in that environment are neither weak-willed nor stupid. They may be desperate, and often exhausted. They are also determined... and if you gave them a justifiable target, they’d get great stress relief from hacking it into little tiny pieces.

Demon invasion? Pffft. Try facing Black Friday....

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Confidence to inspire fear

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

The bridge of the freighter felt like it had become a nightmare as Lithel awoke.

He tried to open his eyes but even when open the room refused to stop spinning. One of his upper left eyes refused to open and as Lithel attempted to reach up with one of his arms he found that he could not move it as well.

Tilting his head down and saw through his blurry eyes that a section of the bridge ceiling had collapsed atop him and was pinning him to the deck. He tried to rise but the weight was too heavy. Just as he began pondering if this would be his end he felt the debris shift atop him. "Captain!" Lithel heard someone calling him but the sound felt like it was coming from everywhere. "Captain can you hear me!?"

Blinking several more times Lithel was able to focus and he saw his second in command Michael rushing over. He could hear several other footsteps approaching and not long after the metal pinning him to the floor being lifted off and a strong pair of arms pulling him out.

"I got you sir, just take it easy."

Lithel moved his mouth to thank him but nothing came out but a soft gurgle and whimper.

Only now as he was pulled free did Lithel see the damage done to his bridge. Halve the consoles were shattered, the data streams were flickering rapidly as an overload of information from across the ship poured in, and at one of the walls had several panels blown out and were currently on fire.

Michael helped lay him down across the floor while a medic rushed over and began treating him. Lithel was about to sit up and take back his command throne when the communications officer rushed over.

"Message coming in sir; it's from the pirates."

Lithel's eyes went wide and he tried to sit up but Michael put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. They had served together aboard the Red Manta for some twenty years and had developed an understanding that needed no words.

He saw the look in Michael's eyes and knew he would take care of the situation and instead laid back down.

"Put them through." Michael said as the communication officer scurried off and began fiddling with the only remaining working communication console.

Within moments the data feeds stopped streaming information and displayed an image. On the opposite end series of figures could be seen standing around a command throne similar to Lithel's were it not for the adorning skulls and bones of various species draped over it.

They were muscular mixture of aliens ranging from lizard like creatures with sharpened teeth to thin limbed beings looking like living twigs, and even a strange blob like creature that had a knife wedged within it. But the most impressive of the figures was sitting atop the throne itself.

It had the shape of a humanoid figure but it appeared as a swirling cloud of black ink ever shifting. It wore no clothing and had no distinguishable features save for a pair of crimson red eyes.

"Surrender."

It was a single word spoken by the black ink creature before Michael could even say a word. The crew around it chuckled and laughed as if sizing up their soon to be prize; though Michael would soon throw a wrench into their celebration.  

"Are you insane!?" he spoke. His stance was firm and unwavering with his feet planted into the decking as if he was bracing for a storm. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"Who, are you?" the black ink creature spoke as it raised a talon like finger at Michael, the ink bleeding off of it in drips as it did so.

"I am Captain Michael Zbari of the human reformation, transporting goods to the homeworld."

The pirates appeared confused at this announcement and murmured among themselves before the ink creature held up a hand. The medic treating Lithel appeared to take just as much of the confusion from the announcement and was about to say something when Lithel forestalled him. He knew Michael was playing a dangerous game, and it might just be there only way of getting out of this.

"You, lie." The words were spoken as if through water and Lithel could barely understand them as the thing continued. "The captain, is not human; this, we know."

"First you attack my ship unprovoked and now you claim I am not captain of my own ship?!"

His confidence radiated from him as he spoke and some of the pirates appeared taken aback. They were the ones who had attacked and now had them all at gun point. With a single word they could destroy the Red Manta and be on their way yet this human was acting as if they were the ones who should be sorry.

"Do you have any idea who are cargo is for?" Michael continued. "Should, we, care?" the ink being replied. "You should when Emperor Galvoc finds out you stole his personal shipment."

The smirks of the pirates dropped away instantly at this. The mere mention of the human emperor's name gave them pause as if they had just been struck by a cannon. The ink being leaned forward now on both arms and fixed the camera with a burning gaze.

"You, lie."

Michael scoffed at this and raised his arms out. "Nineteen containers of freshly cut refrigerated Borgan meat, twelve containers of the finest wines of the Nebula Rim, thirty six crates of gem stones from the fire pit mines of Draxon Iv, and that's just the tip of the ice berg."

The ink monster relaxed back into it's throne at this. "An, impressive, haul, indeed." it said and some of the pirates began grinning again but Michael continued to speak.

"For one with a death wish, an impressive haul for sure."

Michael stepped towards the monitor. "You could kill us and steal all of our cargo to sell but it won't matter; because the emperor will hear of this and will hunt you down to the farthest ends of the universe."

The ink thing chuckled and Michael's face frowned. "By attacking his shipment you have essentially declared war on him; you do realize that don't you?"

At this the black goo like creature stopped chuckling.

"He controls the largest fleet of ships to ever sail the void;  their numbers alone change gravity of entire systems with their passing."

"His armies are beyond counting and the march of their feet can crack planets in two."

"The depths of his depravity for torture against his enemies boundless and of such horrific that even the Draxic are afraid to incur his wrath."

Fixing an equally dark glare now Michael faced down the ink being. "You have no idea the hurricane you just sailed into."

The pirates began to argue among themselves but the black creature let out a deep roar that sounded as if bubbling tar could scream.

"He, will, never, know!" it said, "We, will, be, long, gone, and, you, all, dead!"

It was Michael's turn to smirk as he pulled out a small box like device with a blinking red light.

"This, is an emergency transmitter capable of reaching across five sectors." he held it out clearly so all the pirates could see. "Once activated it calls in a relief fleet to warp to our position within twenty minutes; and I activated it fifteen minutes ago."

For the first time the ink creature rose from its throne and pushed several of the pirates aside with surprising strength for a creature that appeared to be made of living oil.

"You, bluff!" is said.

"You could stay and board us to call it, but when they arrive and blow your scrap heap of a ship out of the stars I don't think it'll really matter what you think now will it?"

The two stared down each other, neither speaking a word yet unwilling to back down in the face of this challenge.

Lithel watched with ever clearing eyes as the pirates became increasingly anxious.

"Tick." Michael made a sound similar the clock arms of his wrist time device. "Tick, tick tick tick."

"Silence!" the ink creature bellowed, but Michael continued.

"Time's running out for you." His face was devoid of emotion save a devlish smirk. "Tick, tick, tick, tick!"

"I said silence!"

"Time's running out little pirate." Michael quipped back, "Tick, tick, tick, tick!"

The pirates were not frantic and some even began talking to the ink creature in an alien language none of the red manta crew could understand but it appeared to upset the ink being.

Letting out another roar the screen suddenly went dead leaving the bridge crew silent as the repair teams finally shuffled in to douse the flames.

Through the viewport Lithel could see the pirate ship burning retro boosters and turning around as fast as it could before warping away.

Michael stood upright for a few moments more after they fled back to the warp before collapsing down to the ground. Streaks of sweat began pouring down his face like rivers and he began breathing rapidly.

Lithel raised himself on to his arms unsteadily and looked at Michael.

"How did you know that would work?"

Michael looked at him as if he just remembered he wasn't alone on the bridge and looked embarrassed.

"When you act like you have the backing of the biggest thug in the yard, the other rats tend to leave you alone."

"So by claiming to be the emperors personal shipment.." Lithel began as he connected the dots.

"They would fear the hell hammer that would fall on them should they attempt to steal from the biggest threat the galaxy has ever seen."

Lithel was surprised that such an act of subterfuge worked but they were still alive and he would be the last to complain on how it was handled. He did point to the strange blinking box Michael still clutched in his hand.

"What is that device?"

Michael looked at it for a moment before chucking it over to Lithel who gracefully caught it mid air.

"It's a remote control for my room lights."

Lithel looked at it dumbfounded but before he could inquire more from Michael he saw his second in command pass out on the bridge as the stress of the attack and the performance he just made finally caught up to him.

[kodzukenscorner]

Tendo, Aone, Tsukishima, and Matsukawa in a coffee shop

anon asked: Hii!! Can I request a s/o fem reader who own coffee shop also the one who perfectly run the shop where Satori, Aone, Tsukii, Matsu always go there whenever they can. Until some guy (not customer because the customers always respect the lovely s/o owner ✊🤧) try to flirt her right infront of coffee of these boyfriend. 🥺😅

a/n: we stan coffee shop au’s!!

wc: 1,896

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

Tendo

Honestly, Tendo doesn’t drink much coffee to begin with

But when he does he gets the most sugary, caffeinated drink you could imagine

He prefers to go for the different sweets you have on display in your case and he always comments on how good they look 

You like chatting with him as he always has something interesting to say

And to be completely transparent, he may have started coming for the desserts but he stayed for you

You were always so cheerful and competent

Sure there were waiters and baristas around but it was almost like you were running the place all by yourself 

Not that you made it look hard or anything

And most importantly, you seemed to genuinely like talking to him

Tendo had the tendency to scare people off with his eccentric personality but you were nothing but smiles and laughter around him

So suffice it to say, he was enraptured with you

But of course, he wouldn’t dream of bothering you at work so he made do with watching you in your element instead

Everyone in the area adored you and your little coffee shop and wouldn’t dream of causing any trouble for you

But not everyone gets the memo

Certainly not the guy who sauntered in one day, taking his sweet time scanning the menu and desserts

He seemed much more occupied with talking to you and asking you about all the different items on your menu 

You looked mildly uncomfortable but still had the same smile on your face

Tendo was watching intently for any signs of this guy stepping over the line

The second he leaned in just a bit too close and Tendo saw you flinch he was on his feet

He wrapped an arm around the guys shoulder and started talking his ear off about the different drinks and desserts and giving him a full blown review of everything there was

The guy eventually got fed up when Tendo wouldn’t stop talking and walked out soon after

You smiled gratefully at Tendo and gave him a free dessert for his troubles

“Wanna share?” He gave you a playful smile

Sitting across from Tendo, sharing a cake together gave you so many butterflies you almost thanked the creepy guy who came in and tried hitting on you for causing it

Aone

The first time Aone came in you were a little intimidated 

But when he placed his first order and sat down to drink it calmly you realized he was a pretty nice guy

You noticed this especially when his friends would come with him and get into loud arguments 

You thought you would have to go over there and tell them to be quiet yourself

But to your surprise, Aone just pushed them apart and they quickly shut up

Since then you were in a bit of awe around him, it should have been no surprise that someone as intimidating as him could make people be quiet 

It wasn’t just his own friends though, whenever a customer got too loud of rowdy, one look from him got them to settle down 

It took you a while to realize that he would very carefully watch you and your expressions

Every time he noticed you feeling stressed out because of a customer he always handled it before you had to 

You would always send him a grateful smile for having your back and you swore you could see the smallest blush on the tips of his ears

But maybe that was just your imagination

Sometimes you were in such a good mood and so thankful to have Aone help you basically keep the shop in check you would give him a free drink or snack

He always mumbled a small thank you and had a hard time looking you in the eyes

One time in particular you would have given him everything in the shop if he asked

Some of your customers can get loud and rowdy but all of them are fully respectful of you and your shop

But there were others, like the guy you’d never seen before, who waltzed in and walked right up to you

Before you even had a chance to ask him if he wanted anything, he started using the cheesiest pickup lines on you

No matter how much you tried to laugh them off and get him to order something or leave, he just wasn’t taking the hint

Your eyes flickered over to Aone who was in his usual spot already staring at you and waiting for a signal

The small distressed look was all he needed as he got up and stood right behind this persistent flirt 

The poor guy was so scared of Aone that he took off without saying another word, head hung low

You sighed in relief sliding Aone a cup of his favorite drink you had already made for him 

He looked at you a bit hesitantly when you pushed the drink towards 

“It’s on me” You smiled at him

“Can I pay you back with a date?”

That was honestly the first time you’d heard him say more than two words

And you were over the moon

Tsukishima

Tsukki is a regular at your shop and he’s honestly hard to miss

He comes in a lot to study and mostly keeps to himself but he’s also ridiculously tall and very cute

He’s usually quiet, headphones on and drowning out everything around him

You can’t help but wonder about him so sometimes you have to stop yourself from staring too hard at him

But soon enough you realized that he was doing the exact same thing

Almost every time he thought you weren’t looking in his direction, he would sneak a peek at you

You ran the shop flawlessly and always had a radiating smile on your face

Sometimes he would just stare at you, wondering how you always managed to have a sunny disposition around all of your customers, even the ones who were over the top with their orders

He really admired you for it and always asked himself if there was anything that could put you in a bad mood

Unfortunately his question was answered rather quickly when a guy he had never seen before walked into your shop

You were busy bringing a drink to a customer’s table and chatting with them for a bit to notice him

But Tsukki noticed right away

There was just something about the way this guy seemed much more interested in staring at your ass than the menu that rubbed him the wrong way

He even had the audacity to lick his lips as he waited for you to finish up your conversation with the customer 

Tsukki wasn’t about to give him the chance to bother you though as he got up and approached this guy before you even took notice of his presence 

“Hi would you like to order something?” Tsukki tried to put on the same smile you had when serving customers but his was obviously forced

The guy looked a bit confused and took a step away from Tsukki

“Sir, if you’re not going to order something, I’m going to have to ask you to leave”

This time Tsukki dropped his smile and stared right into this guys soul

He got the hint and scurried out of the shop

“I don’t remember hiring a new barista” You were standing behind Tsukki now with an amused smile dancing across your lips

“Sorry, I just didn’t like him staring at you like that” He replied, unable to properly keep eye contact

“Were you jealous?” The very faint blush across Tsukki’s cheeks was enough of an answer for you

“Sorry I don’t date employees, company policy” You smirked at him

This time he finally looked you in the eyes again, smirking right back at you

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t work here”

Matsukawa

This guy genuinely has no shame

The first few times he came into your shop was with some friends

You couldn’t help but notice the way they were whispering about you but the second you turned towards them they all looked away as if they weren’t just talking about you

It was never malicious, just a bit embarrassing to be honest

You realized they must have had some sort of crush on you but you didn’t want to admit it to yourself

They all soon learned to behave themselves a bit better and the whispers and stares stopped 

For the most part

All except one seemed to get over their little crush

Mattsun always seemed to have his eyes on you and even when you caught him staring he wouldn’t stop

He just didn’t seem to care and would send a lazy smile your way

It flustered you to no end and even when he wasn’t looking at you, the second he felt your eyes on him, he’d turn to your direction with another signature smile

You would ask him to stop, but honestly, he wasn’t even doing anything, just watching you work from time to time

But he still always managed to mind his own business and he was a paying customer who always spoke to you kindly and tipped well

He never overstepped his bounds with you

And let’s be real here, he’s undeniably attractive 

You wished all guys who seemed to find you attractive were like him, flirty but not creepy 

Unfortunately, not everyone knew how to do that and you got your fair share of weirdos

One guy in particular really got under your skin

It was close to closing and there were only a few customers left in the shop, Mattsun included

You were busy cleaning up a table to notice the man who had just walked in but when you turned around he was just a few feet away from you

Mattsun looked up from the work he was doing and watched closely to see if you maybe knew this guy

“Uh...can I help you sir?” You tried to take a step back to create some distance but the table behind you stopped you

“Can I have your number?” 

You were so shocked at his forwardness you just made a confused sound and he repeated his question

You told him no and asked if he wanted to order something before you closed but he seemed persistent in asking for your number 

This guy was much too close to comfort and just as you were about to shoot a pleading glance at Mattsun, you noticed he was already on his feet, hand on this guys shoulder 

“She said no, take a hint and go home already”

“Who are you? Her boyfriend?”

Mattsun looked over at you and shrugged “Yeah, I am”

After angrily sputtering a few words at Mattsun the guy finally left, along with the last few customers that were there, leaving the two of you alone

You sighed in relief and looked over at Mattsun, giving him a heartfelt thank you

“But why did you have to tell him you were my boyfriend?” 

“It got him to leave you alone didn’t it? And besides, who’s to say I won’t be your boyfriend soon anyway?”

You stuttered in embarrassment while Mattsun gave you his iconic lazy smile once more

“But how about we just start with a date?”

[tinyboxxtink]

“Sharky” *Part 4*

Oh snap...ya’ll are gonna be begging for the next chapter. 

Tag List:

@wanniiieeee

@dumauier

@gibbs274

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

@aprildecker-blog​

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

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

After work you headed straight home to get ready-- it was time for the works. Shaved EVERYWHERE, breaking out the expensive smelling shampoo and conditioner, wearing your extra special pheromone perfume, and your lucky little black dress. You stood in your full length mirror, admiring your work.

“Oh hell yes,” You thought to yourself. “Even I’d fuck me,”

You glanced at your clock by the bedside table, shit you were going to be late if you didn’t book it. You slipped on your lucky pumps and grabbed your purse while you called an Uber.

----

At the restaurant, you arrived to see that Rafael had already gotten there but was clearly having an issue getting a table.

“We should be on the list I called earlier, BARBA,” He enunciated at the poor hostess like she was a moron. 

“I’m sorry sir there’s not a--”

“Look under Y/L/N,” You sauntered up to her, completely ignoring Barba. 

“Oh! Yes, party of 2,” She smiled in relief. “Right this way!” She grabbed two menus and lead you to a table.

“I can’t believe you did that-- I said I’d make the reservation!” He hissed.

“No, you said you’d pay,” You reminded him as you both took seats at the table. “And the chef’s MY friend, why would he give a discount to a guy who tried to put him in prison?” 

“Wha---Seriously?” He stared at you. “What, so do you just hang around convicts?” 

“Hey he’s NOT a convict, thanks to me,” You smirked. “You’re so judgmental, Barba,” 

“Oh right I’M--” He was interrupted by a bubbly waitress approaching your table.

“Hello, welcome to Rigoletto’s! I’m Tracy, I’ll be your server tonight--”

“Yeah that’s nice honey, we’d like to start with the calamari, he’ll have the most expensive scotch you have, and I’ll take a bottle of wine,” You didn’t even let the poor girl finish her intro before rattling off your demands.

“....R-Red or white?” She asked meekly. 

“Literally the most expensive wine you have,” You grinned, eyeing Barba who’s eyes were wide as saucers. 

“Right...I’ll be back,” She nodded and was gone in a flash.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? Really?” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Aw, Barba if it gets too expensive for your civil servant salary, I’ll cover it,” You flashed him an evil smile.

“You just don’t know how to be on a date, do you?” He chuckled, sipping the complimentary water.

“Excuse me?” 

“When’s the last time you let a man treat you?” 

“I don’t let men treat me, then they expect something,” You rolled your eyes taking a sip of your own water.

“I don’t expect anything from any woman,” He said sincerely, and there it was again. You rubbed your chest to dissipate the pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in concern.

“Nothing, heartburn,” You nodded it off and drank more water. That had to be what it was, obviously. 

“For the heart you don’t have?” He smirked.

“Do you really want to do this again Barba?” You bit back.

“No, no you’re right,” He nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry,” 

“It’s fine...but I don’t believe you” You eyed him.

“You don’t believe I’m sorry?

“I don’t believe you don’t expect anything,” You smirked as Tracy brought your drinks and calamari. 

“So did you--?” Tracy started, but once again you cut her off. 

“We’ll need a minute, sweetie,” You shooed her away.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Barba asked as he sipped his scotch.

“Because you’re a man,” You stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You clearly have been dating the wrong type of men,”

“Barba I told you I don’t date,” You poured yourself a glass from the wine bottle. “I ‘relieve stress’,” 

“So do you call other sharks to come and ‘service’ you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” You chuckled.

“That explains a lot,” He chuckled back.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re whole ‘deal’, it’s not even original,” He baited you.

“And what exactly is my ‘deal’, counselor?” You narrowed your eyes.

“The whole ‘frigid lawyer uses men for sex, never lets anyone close,’ blah blah blah,”

“FRIGID?” You raised your voice. “I’m sorry, did you just call me frigid? Gee Barba, what do you do on second dates, hit women with your car?” You scoffed as you downed your glass of wine and poured another one.

“I meant like...in your heart,”

“Oh right. Like I’m Elsa-- and what, is this the part of the movie where the white knight comes and thaws her frozen heart with the power of love?” You remembered that this was supposed to be you wooing Barba into a false sense of lust, but his ‘holier than thou’ shtick was infuriating. 

“I don’t think that’s what happens,”

“Oh like I’ve seen Frozen?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god...you have!” You snickered.

“Olivia has a kid,” He defended. 

“Oh right,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure and Olivia cuddled up on the couch and watched it with her kid,” 

“You know for someone who seems so sure of herself, you sure seem threatened by Olivia,”

“THREATENED? By Olivia Benson? HA!” You let out one loud laugh. “Please, of what? Her inability to catch criminals? Her single mom life? Her constant habit of getting herself kidnapped? I mean, who does that?!”

“Hey, back off! That was traumatic, Y/N. For all of us,” He warned.

“Which time?” You asked snidely.. “That woman is like Princess Peach and you’re her Mario, constantly having to save her ass from a castle dungeon,”

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Barba kept his cool this time.

“What?”

“You have this constant need to insult Liv, and it always comes back to the relationship she and I have,” He smiled in amusement.

“That is SO--”

“True? I know,” He leaned towards you. “Admit it Sharky, you have a thing for me,” 

“What?! A ‘thing’? What are we, in high school?” You scoffed, looking away. “I do not have a “Thing” for you, Barba. Do I want to fuck you? Absolutely. But I’m not doodling your name in my legal pads or something,” Barba choked on his drink at your last statement. Well, you took your own road there, but at least you got back to the matter at hand.

“Well that’s um,” He dried himself off. “That’s something,”

“Indeed,” You didn’t bat an eye as you poured yourself more wine.

“So is that why you’re trying to pay tonight? Because you ‘expect’ something?” He raised an eyebrow as he swirled his drink.

“Maybe. Is that a problem?” 

“That you want to use me as a piece of meat? Yeah, a little!” He scoffed with a smile. 

Fuck. You should’ve known better than to handle it like this. Barba wasn’t a shark, he wasn’t even a guppy. He was a sad little puppy, with all of his feelings and warm fuzzies bullshit. He probably didn’t even fuck women, he “makes love” to them. 

“Well, you know it could just be my way of showing affection, since I have a ‘thing’ for you,” You ran your fingers over the back of his hand and leaned in close, so that he could smell your pheromone fueled fragrance. You smiled victoriously as you saw it take effect over him-- it was almost like witchcraft.

“I mean, some girls like flowers..” He gulped, now eyeing your entire ensemble with lustful eyes.

“Flowers die, babe,” You winked. “But orgasm’s last forever,”

“Sure they do…” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, if you do it right, they feel like they last forever,” You swirled your wine as your heel travelled slowly up his pant leg. You leaned in closer, tugging on his tie this time as you whispered:

“And trust me, I do it right,” 

“Check please!” Barba frantically looked around for Tracy.

Well this was going to be fun….

[soliverse]

sugar, sugar - z.cl

reader x chenle

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: a kiss in the cheek, cuss words, pessimism (I think that’s about it? Let me know if I missed something.

word count: 6.2k

part of the Candy Hearts Collab by @127-mile (click the link if you want to read the rest of the collab)

synopsis: Your whole life, especially working for your boss, is a living nightmare. That was until you got some sugar in your life.

inspiration:

Isn’t It Romantic (The film from Netflix by Rebel Wilson),

Sugar, Sugar by the Archies

networks

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet

February 13,202x / 8:00 AM

It was a quiet and peaceful morning. Which is too bad since that’s not what you’re aiming for.

Your alarm should’ve sounded at 6:00AM. Instead, it woke you up an hour late despite how much fumbling and crying that you did make it work last night.

You have completely ditched breakfast, running as fast as you can to the bus stop that never comes and leave as scheduled.

Already half an hour late, you still sat down that bus seat, fidgeting as if not staying calm on your seat will make the bus ride shorter. Right now, the only thing that you’re still holding on to is that small, sliver of hope that you get there before your boss does.

After climbing down the vehicle, you ran like you’re in a marathon and looked for that one window that your coworker always leaves open whenever you’re late like today. You ungracefully climbed up the window of the storage room and met Jisung, who’s already getting himself ready before opening.

“Is he here yet?”

You whispered as you tried to dust your red shirt and smoothened out your wrinkled uniform. The goal is to make yourself look decent, an attempt that you barely managed to accomplish

“He just came in. Hurry up before he notices.”

You mouthed “Thanks” to Jisung before leaving the storage room and sneak into the main entrance to log yourself in for today.

Your eyes scanned the candy-themed decorations for any signs of life (or danger, in your boss’ case) but he is nowhere to be found. You walked casually towards the main entrance, breathing only a sigh of relief as soon as you get to the front door.

Finally feeling at ease, you pressed your thumb on the device that records your time and gave yourself a mental pat in the back for actually pulling it off. At least, before a hand pops out of nowhere and touched you by shoulder.

You yelped at the surprise appearance of your ever-so-stealthy boss right behind you.

“You’re late again.”

He was staring at you with those black intense eyes and his resting bitch face. His expression always made you worry because there’s no way to actually now if he’s mad or not. You kept your head down and tried to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

“Surprised? I saw your little stunt by the window. You know that it’s right in front of my office, right?”

He patted your shoulder before placing his hands back to his pockets.

“You also know that I’ll be deducting that on your payroll, right?”

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t even let you finish and just turned his back at you, walking towards his office.

“That reminds me. We should bolt that window down before someone else tries to sneak in and steal. Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.”

As soon as he’s out the way, you rolled your eyes and went back to straightening the wrinkles off of your uniform.

“Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.” You said, mimicking him made faces behind his back.

As if Jisung knows how to shut that window properly.

 After that delightful conversation, you helped Jisung in refilling the candy containers, tidied the shop by little bit, and breathe for one final time today before you opened the shop.

Some people may have imagined working on a candy store to be a dream. You get to bask in all of the aesthetics, you get to interact with children every day, and there’s that perk that you get to enjoy an unlimited supply of sweet treats during your shift.

Oh boy, some people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your location is near an amusement park, which is already hectic as it is, but you also need to deal with stuff that all retail staff goes through.

If you were to make an entire list of the stressful situations that you have to deal with every single shift, it would take you all day.

There are children throwing temper tantrums because their parents refused to buy the candy that the wanted, entitled Karens demanding free candy because you made her baby cry, teenagers who thinks they’re so smart by stealing handful of candies from their containers while you’re distracted. It’s a mess.

And that’s beside your main source of stress. That one is sitting on his office at the back of the store, probably playing some game on his phone while you act as both staff and manager, is the best boss in the world, Mr. Zhong Chenle.

Note the sarcasm.

That guy deserves a whole separate list by himself.

///

So far, the first few hours of your shift went smoothly. There were a few customers here and there but nothing that you and Jisung can’t handle.

All is well. But if you’ve worked retail before, you would know that those words are cursed.

You’ve always had this thing where you’d get a stomachache whenever something bad is about to happen. Ever since that one nice lady earlier told you to keep the change with a very kind smile, your stomach has been grumbling like crazy.

You sneaked into the counter and sat there for a moment to rest. The pain is bearable, but it makes it very hard for you to breathe properly. After taking a few deep breaths, the pain subsided a little bit.

Until, someone wrapped their arms around you, startling you off the chair and had you freefalling straight into your butt.

“I’m not paying you to slack off Y/N. Do something. I don’t know… rearrange the Valentines display. Just don’t sit around while there’s so much stuff to do.”

He dusted his overprized outfit that probably cost more than your wage, even grabbing the hand sanitizer from his pocket, completely acting like you had a contagious virus that.

Fighting the urge to talk back, you just turned around and went back to work.

Someday, I’m going to punch that resting bitch face off his face.

Someday.

You went back and found Jisung painstakingly arranging the M&M piece by piece, arranged by color, size and filling.

The kid makes you worry sometimes.

He’s a good kid but sometimes he can be a bit… clueless?

You remembered the first time that your boss bought a cotton candy machine and asked you and Jisung to figure out how to operate it. He almost left work with nine fingers that day.

“Hey kid. Bossman wants us to change the Valentines display.” You explained as you walk over to the center of the room where the display case is placed.

“Not again. What does he want this time?”

“I don’t know. His only instruction is do something.”

He whined for a bit, but he followed your lead shortly after and started removing all of the candy jars on display one by one.

You started working on it as well, hoping that he (aka the owner) won’t notice that you just switched the glass containers of the candy displays with each other and then placed them back in their original place.

You realized that he probably didn’t know what the display looked like in the first place. It’s just more unnecessary work just to keep you moving.

To pass the boredom, you decided to dote on the kid that is busy making a bouquet of out of rose-shaped lollipops right beside you.

“Sooo…”

You said in a high-pitched voice and tried to lighten up the mood a little.

“Any plans for the V-day?”

He stops for a moment, bowing his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“I’m taking this girl out bowling.”

You squealed and poked his side to tease him. He used to be a little highschool kid that you were told to keep an eye on just in case he accidentally kills himself. It was a headache at first, but he grew on you and now he feels like your honorary little brother.

“Awww. My Jisungie is grown up. It felt like it was just yesterday when I was to trying to teach you to tie your own shoelaces. And now, you’ve got a girlfriend”

“Uhm Y/N. That was yesterday.”

You were about to pinch his cheeks once again when Chenle squeezed himself in between you and Jisung.

“And now you’re flirting. Geez. Do I have to do everything around here?”

Why does this guy keep popping out of nowhere?

He stared you and Jisung down before he slithered back to his office once again. You just stood there in disbelief, shaking your head as you went back to work.

///

The end of the day went by smoothly, which made you worry even more. As you return some of the candy displays back to the stock room, you can’t help but think that today was just the calm before the storm.

Take last year’s Valentines for example.

The shop was stuffed with that a customer fainted because of suffocation. Jisung was bleeding because some guy punched him for flirting with his girlfriend (even though the poor kid is just being nice and gave her one of the extra candy flowers.)

And oh, no dates. While everyone is busy celebrating the love that they will share together you celebrated at the fact that the day is all over.

Ever since you’ve started working at that shop, you’ve never really tried to meet new people. You keep explaining that you’re tired all day. That your job is very demanding time-wise and physically. But in reality, no one just asked you out.

You could’ve quit, but who would take in a highschool graduate without work experience? You’ve barely saved up for a whole college semester, let alone the curriculum. There’s nothing to do besides suck it up.

It’s just one of those things that you stop celebrating as you get older.

Valentine’s day, your birthday, your birthday which is the same day as Valentine’s day.

Sighing, you picked up the stack of empty boxes that you needed to take outside for the garbage truck. Once again, Chenle pops out of nowhere, hitting some of the boxes that tumbled back on the floor. His are arms folded at his chest, sneering because of the mess that he created.

“Will you clean up this mess? It’s almost closing.”

You just pursed your lips, nodding as you stacked the boxes once again, trying very hard not to lose your composure.

“And will you please close the lights outside this time? I doubt that can pay for the damages if this shop burns down.”

Back turned against your employer, you picked up the boxes from the floor. You’re just glad that it is tall enough to cover most of your face. If someone could see your face right now, they would say that it is the face of someone that is about to murder somebody. Which is getting closer and closer to reality every single time Chenle opens his mouth.

Besides, you left one of the lights open one time. His petty ass just can’t seem to live it down.

“I’ll make sure to double check before leaving, sir.”

“Good. Make it quick.”

Holding out the boxes, you figured that he’d at least hold the door out for you. You had that one tiny glimmer of hope that he’s nice after all and you judged him too hastily.

Nope.

He slams the door right behind him and closed the lights from outside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You slammed the boxes down to search for the lights and open the door for yourself.

Just one punch. I need just one punch and that’s it. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

Scrambling in the dark, you almost faceplanted as you tripped one of the boxes in your way. With your arms stretched out as you feel up your surroundings, it took you a few minutes before you’ve finally managed to open the switch and see the mass that you made while stumbling.

You just facepalmed and stood there for a while, reminding yourself to take deep breaths and calm yourself before you actually burn this place down.

One by one, you stacked the boxes once again in one corner, making sure secure them this time. Keeping the door open, you’ve successfully placed them inside the bins.

One box in particular fell down to the ground. You picked it up to stuff it back to the garbage can but the motion made a rattling noise.

I must’ve missed a piece.

You dusted off the nearby pavement and sat down so you can open the box.

Inside was a few bags of candy, adorned with the usual red and white swirls with the text “Sweet Escape” taking over most of the packaging.

This one must be new.

You stuffed the box back to the garbage can, looked around for signs of a snooping, grumpy adult and placed candy on one of your back pockets.

If your boss found out that you messed up the inventory again, he will not hesitate to fire you. You’re just gonna have to sneak it inside before he gets there tomorrow. Well, assuming that your alarm clock works this time.

///

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You closed the door behind you and took off your shoes as entered your living room.

Throwing your keys and jacket aside, you’ve just noticed that the lights are all off and the house is eerily quiet.

You grunted as your sore feet walked itself to the kitchen, only to find a single note on the counter.

Me and your sister went out to eat tonight. Just order something for dinner

Love Mom,

All you ever wanted that night that you just to a nice, warm dinner and go straight to the bed and shut yourself from the world.

Great. No breakfast and dinner.

Fuck my life.

You threw the note in the garbage bin and just stomped your way to your room. You felt like breaking down at that moment but you didn’t have the strength to make cry and make a fuss. Maybe you can just sleep all the frustrations off and feel a lot better tomorrow.

Maybe it doesn’t get much worse than this.

You scoffed.

Sike.

As if.

You slammed yourself to bed but soon realized that it wasn’t a very good idea.

You felt something in your pocket popped and it made a huge mess in your bed. You took it out of the pocket and realized that it was the bag of candy from earlier. The seams popped out and tore open from being squished by a tired, underpaid employee.

At this point, you just glared and cursed yourself once as you cleaned the candy off of your bed. Some of the candy is inside the box, so you cupped your hands and poured the remaining contents to your palms. It was filled with tiny colorful candy hearts, which looked appetizing despite the tiny bits of disfiguration and the fact that it was in your pockets the whole time.

Well, I guess this is dinner then.

You popped the candy in your mouth, letting it sit as it oozes a strong citrusy flavor. It had a texture similar to those fever tablets for kids. In fact, it tasted like medicine a bit, too.

The citrus taste kept on spreading in your mouth and your face now contorted to a grimace. It felt like all moisture is getting sucked out of your body.

They sell this to kids?

You ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to water the taste down. It didn’t do anything, so, you kept on chugging more and more water until you’ve finished an entire gallon of liquids.

You sat down at the kitchen floor and breathe a sigh of relief. The taste finally left your tastebuds, but you can still feel your body feeling repulsed by the extreme sour sugary candies that you just consumed.

Drinking one more glass of water, you went back to your room and changed into your comfortable clothes, finally ready to leave this day behind.

Let’s just hope that those candy bits won’t get you sued tomorrow.

///

February 14,202x / 8:00 AM

The alarm started blaring off from its place, scaring you shitless and making you jump out of bed in panic.

 You could've have been happier and more annoyed at the same time.

You leaned against your bedroom wall, giving yourself a few minutes to calm yourself down before you decided to turn off the alarm.

Once your heartbeat has cooled down, you stepped back to the bedside table and pressed the alarm button to check the time.

8:00AM

"Dammit!”

Your heart started to race once again. This time, it’s the adrenaline rush that’s making you move faster than normal. You even contemplated about getting a shower. However, you're already screwed as it is, you're not going to work without breakfast and shower again.

You stepped back to your room, wrapped on a bathrobe and panting like you just ran a marathon. Digging into your own closet, you noticed that your uniform, a red polo shirt and matching star white pants, is missing from your closet.

"Mom! Have you seen my uniform?"

You shouted from your room but you heard no answer. It seems like they didn't stay the night either.

Great.

Seeing as how your day started, you've deemed the rest of the day unsalvageable and just grabbed the closest thing to red that you have on your closet, which is a red frilly blouse and a white paneled skirt that you've never worn before. It's right at the bottom of your closet, so you've figured you or your mother bought this before and just forgot all about it.

You also grabbed one of your newer shoes to match and bolted to the front door as fast as possible.

You locked the door behind you, only to be spooked as you turned around to see a car parked in your driveway.

It was one of those fancy ones too. The ones that have their doors open at the side like an alien spaceship.

You only know one person in the world that's flashu enough to ride one. And he's just came out of the car.

"Happy birthday! You're pretty early..."

Chenle smiled as jogs over to you, keys jingling on his fingers, and gave you a small peck on the cheek.

You stood there in your porch, frozen.

Zhong Chenle knows how to smile. And he knows about your birthday

"I was about to call you but I didn't want to wake you up. So, I came over instead. Did you eat your breakfast yet?"

You shook your head hesitantly, still unable to speak and process the situation.

"No good, young lady. Go back inside. We're not leaving with an empty stomach."

 ///

 Here's something that you never encounter every day. Your spawn-of-the-devil employer is making you pancakes in the kitchen. And you finally have fresh milk in your fridge.

What happened to the world while you were sleeping?

"I'm not a professional chef but at least it's edible."

He said as he placed a perfectly fine plate full of fluffy pancakes right in front of you. Is this him being cocky?

He sets the apron aside and sat down right in front you, grabbing a plate and a piece of pancake for himself.

"Go on... Tell me if it's good."

You hesitantly took a bite, and then chewed in silence as Chenle expectantly watched you from the side. You set the fork down, speechless.

They're as good on the inside as they looked on the outside.

 "You don't like it?"

He sounded upset. It wasn't like "I can't believe you forgot to do this thing that I told you" upset either. He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and a bit of a pout.

You froze. What if all of this is trick? And this is just is way of firing you, like letting you down gently in case you formed a vendetta and burn the shop down in your anger.

Which, for the record, is partly true.

"Uhm. It's nice. It's very niceee"

In your panic, you might've overdone the compliment. It sounded like you're on gunpoint and you had to say it to live. Nevertheless, he still smiled to himself and took the compliment well, even pouring you another glass of milk so "it would go down better".

The interaction alone gave you the chills. It felt like you're walking on thin ice and the former Chenle will come out and bury you alive. But even that would've sound more real than what's about to happen next. 

Like the gentleman that he is, he opened the car door for you. You never even got the chance to question where the two of you are going. After sitting down, just when you're about you're about to ask, he held your hand and gave it a kiss.

"You buckled up?"

"Uhm. Yes..."

Still holding your hand, he pressed some buttons on the dashboard and then music started playing. You recognized that it was that song, Sugar Sugar by The Archies. It’s one of the songs that you ironically played in the candy shop. There was also Sugar by Maroon 5, Sugar by Florida.

Well, you get the point.

“Sugar Ah, honey, honey You are my candy girl And you got me wanting you…”

He proceeds to sing along to the song merrily as he backed up your driveway. Meanwhile you sat there quietly as you tried to assess your situation. 

Is this kidnapping? Would it be considered kidnapping if I willingly went inside the vehicle?

Once you’ve realized how ridiculous you sounded in your head, you relaxed for a bit and started humming along to the song. It was at this point that you realized that Chenle had a beautiful voice. The song didn’t have high notes, but it was hard to make your voice pop up with the middle register. It sounded stable, like he’s a recording artist.

The atmosphere at the shop would be much better if he sang like this all the time.

…which reminded you of something that Chenle might be neglecting to think.

Panic washed over you and soon, you can’t keep still and moved around your seat a lot.

“Are you comfortable?

He kept on glancing on your direction, keeping you in check for a few moments while he still kept an eye on the road,

“We can make a quick stop if you need something.”

Trying your best to keep yourself still, you finally sat down and placed both of your hands on your lap, like the kids at school when their parents ask them to behave.

“Where are we going again?”

The question finally popped out and you pursed your lips while trying to wait for the answer.

“I don’t know. It’s your day. We can go wherever you want to.”

“Oh.”

It’s not like him to be away from the shop at this time of the day, let alone the whole day. No matter how sucky he is, he did what is best for the shop. It was his baby.

And if the both of you aren’t going, then it only means one thing. His baby is screwed at the hands of someone.

"By the way, who's taking care of the candy shop?"

You tried to ask nonchalantly, but it only came out sounding more inconspicuous.

"Oh yeah. I left Jisung in charge."

He wistfully replied. Suddenly, you feel your head spinning from your seat from the sheer realization that he left the kid alone, in his shop, with no adult/proper supervision.

"You left Jisung alone... In charge... On Valentine's Day"

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to hide your internal panic. You'll be lucky if the guy made it alive until lunch by himself.

"Relax. He'll be fine. He's with the trainees. Figured it might teach them a thing or two in getting the actual job done."

“And with trainees too… oh my god.”

Great. More casualties.

“You don’t mind if we stopped by the shop first, do you?”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

///

In a few minutes, he pulls over to the parking lot and you’re glad to see the shop in piece. On the outside at least.

You stepped inside the car and practically ran over to the inside of the shop, leaving Chenle behind.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I help you?”

Two unknown faces greeted you at the door. They must be the trainees that Chenle talked about earlier.

“Would you happen to know where Jisung is?”

They both nodded and pointed to the direction of the left side of the shop, which was supposed to be all the supplies were. Instead, there was Jisung on the register, which by the way looked different from what you can remember.

In fact, the whole shop looked nothing like it was yesterday. The colors seemed more vibrant and festive and the whole thing looked like a candy wonderland. To be honest, it reminded you of that one Katy Perry music video.

Jisung bowed at you formally and wore his usually customer service smile.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I—”

“How many fingers do you have now?”

You replayed the question in your head and it sounded just as crazy when it came out of your mouth. At this point, you decided to continue on with the question. For obvious safety reasons.

“Uh ma’am. What do you mean?”

“Hold your fingers up. How many do you have?”

He was hesitant to do as you say. Chenle just facepalmed and gestured him to do as you said, putting up all of his tall fingers in the air.

“Ten?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, almost rushing over to hug the confused Jisung when Chenle pulls you from behind.

“Please excuse her for the moment. She’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

He smiled and bowed to Jisung as an apology, another gesture that you haven’t seen him do before, pulling you outside the store to give you some air. Once you’ve reached the parking lot, he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you still.

“Okay. Since when is hugging my staff became a thing?”

He stares you down with a genuine concerned look on his face.

He placed one of his hands on your forehead.

“It’s not like you’re sick either…”

Chenle sighs, finally releasing you from his grasp

“Tell me. What’s the problem?”

He sat you down at the pavement and gave you enough space to reflect on your actions.

You had the choice to say that you have absolutely no idea what’s happening to you right now, but you thought that he ought to know why you’re acting that way. Now, you just have to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like a crazy person.

“I…”

You started slow, working your way into explaining that you woke up into this insane dream about how her boss is suddenly so nice to her that morning.

And then it hit you.

“I had a dream about you...”

Ideas started pouring down to your head, starting to piece together a story that actually made sense.

“And in that dream, you’re this mean guy that never cared about me and other people’s feelings. You just made everyone around you miserable. The dream felt so real so I’m very uncomfortable that you’re acting nice to me now.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head as an answer. Chenle pulls you over to a side hug, relief washing over him knowing that it wasn’t that bad as he made it up to be.

“I’m sorry if that mean version of me hurt you.”

He rested his head on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“If I decided to be mean to you in a dream again, feel free to punch me or whatever. I promise to make up for all of it once you wake up.”

It was probably the nicest thing that anyone has said to you in a while. Even though it wasn’t actually him who’s hugging you and making you feel all warm inside, you’re not going to see your boss the same way again.

“You know what, why don’t we start now. There’s plenty of time today to make it up to you.”

He stood up from his seat and brushed himself, helping you do the same right after.

“Where does my y/n want to go right now?”

Your lips formed a mischievous smile.

You knew just where you wanted to go at that moment, but he’s probably not going to like it

///

“Would it hurt you to rest for one second?”

You’ve been running around the theme park for the whole day and Chenle just barely kept up to you and your antics. He gave you a small opportunity for a payback and you’re not going to let it slide. Even if it’s with nice Chenle.

You were about to run off again somewhere when he tugs you by the hem of your shirt.

“Y/N-ah, don’t you feel sick at all?”

Chenle’s eyes droop down as he tried to compose himself. As someone that doesn’t like heights and gets dizzy easily, it seems like he’s about to faint any minute now.

“But I want to ride the Ferris wheel.”

He went sheet white, if that is humanly possible. Chenle had barely enough time to recover from the roller coaster ride a few minutes ago and now you’re already on your way to hop in to another one.”

“Fine. We can rest. I don’t think my ears can handle any more of your screaming.”

You can hear Chenle complaining under his breath. The two of you went to the horror house a while ago and there was a high-pitched screaming the whole time. You’ve been teasing him with it ever since.

“I told you, that wasn’t me!”

“The only person inside is you and me. And I don’t remember screaming my own name for fifteen minutes.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he stopped midway and just took your hand to drag you at the nearest bench. He sat you down first before he took the seat right next to you, both palms on his face and trying to give himself a moment to breathe.

As much as you wished to torment that guy to death, he really looked sick to his stomach. He can barely lift his head up without taking deep breaths.

“You alright?”

You said as you patted his back gently, giving some time to relax and a moment to breathe.

“I’m fine. I did say that I’ll do anything for you today.”

He takes one last breathe before getting up the bench, only to lean on one side too much and almost toppling over.

“Yeah. I think were done for the day. You can barely stand up.”

You sat him back at the bench and caressed his back to get him to relax. Not even a minute after sitting back down, he did a thumbs up to let you know that he’s doing fine already.

“What time is it?”

“4:30. Why?”

He tried his best to stand up and keep himself still. This time, his attempt was successful.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can barely stand up. What makes you think that you can drive?”

“Just trust me.”

///

Sure enough, you both got to your house unscathed.

He told you to step out of the car, which you did, and he smoothly backed the car to your garage.

“How was that?”

He said smugly just as he came out of the car, keys jingling on his fingers once again. You can joke about his motion sickness but you can’t comment on his driving.

Chenle was then about to enter your house, but you stopped him just before he turned the doorknob.

“You know what, I had a lot of fun today. It’s probably the best birthday slash Valentine’s Day that I’ve had a whole life. I think you deserve this…”

You held up your fist into a ball and pretended to land a punch to his face. He winced, which gave you and opportunity to tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He stood there frozen for a few seconds, but it was replaced by a cheeky, boyish smile that he’s been hiding from you the whole time that you know him.

You twisted the doorknob and stepped inside your house first, when a popping sound greeted you from inside.

Turns out, those were party poppers.

“Surprise!”

Your whole family is there, alongside all of your friends from way back highschool.

“Sorry for missing you this morning sweetie, we needed some time for the party preparations. Chenle did a good job of distracting you the whole day.”

An arm wrapped itself on your shoulders and gave it a tight squeeze. It didn’t take long for you to find out who it was.

“She made me ride the roller coaster, twice.”

“Stop being a baby. I asked you the second time but you refused to come with me.”

Laughter fills the room and it went for the rest of the night. The celebration wasn’t fancy but it was enough for you to realize what life you’re missing in the real world. And as much you want to make it longer, sooner or later you’re going to have to come back to your old life.

That time was the next day.

///

February 14,202x again / 6:00 AM

The shrill sounds of the alarm clock woke you up, but you were smiling ear to ear. Something about your dream have placed you in a very good mood. Too bad you can’t remember the specific details. All you know is that there’s a car, the shop, the theme park… Zhong Chenle.

Why would it be a nice dream if your boss was in it?

Before you started conspiring some theories, you shook it off and started to get ready for today. To your surprise, the alarm woke you up on time. This means that you can take your sweet time in getting ready, possibly even make yourself an English breakfast for a change.

Your plans are foiled, however, when you realized that the kitchen wasn’t empty.

“Happy birthday…”

Your mom came from the living room to give you the tightest hug. She hasn’t hugged you like this for a long time, so you reciprocated and pulled her in a tighter embrace.

“I’m sorry that this is all we can afford for now…”

She sits you down the table and pushed the small bento cake right in front you. It is not bigger as your hands, but the pink icing and the decorations looked so delicate and beautiful.

“I promise to make you a better cake next year.”

“This is all I need Mom, thank you for doing this.”

///

Everything is going smoothly today. The bus is on time and the driver even gave you a small Valentine’s card as you went inside. For the first time in your life, you looked at the streets painted different shades of red and you’re perfectly fine with it.

You even got to work early. Doors are still shut down when you got there, so you decided to climb up the storage window so you don’t have to wait outside. As instructed, you finally locked it behind you and made it a point to be on time so you’ll never have to use it again.

You started with work right away, cleaning up as much as you can before everyone gets there. While you were mopping the main shop, you can hear keys jingling from outside, meaning that your boss already got there. The door swings forward and upon turning around, he opened the lights, only to see you standing in the middle of the shop.

He screamed at an ungodly pitch and almost fell down at his place.

“Oh, it’s just you. That wasn’t me, alright? ”

He dusted himself off tried his act together and be as cold as before, only to be embarrassed because you kept laughing at his face.

You tried to keep a straight face and bowed at him to excuse yourself. If your tardiness won’t get you fired today, it would probably be your excessive laughing.

“This is the horror house all over again.”

You swear that you heard him mumble something else, but you weren’t sure if you heard it right.

What are the odds that he dreamt about a horror house too, right?

Before you got the chance to go though, he said something that made your heart race for the rest of the day.

“You were there too, right? I just want you to know that that was really me.”

You turned around to see if he’s joking, but instead found a smiling Chenle at the other end of the shop.

“I actually liked you for a while now. So forgive me for always lashing out on you.”

He placed his hands on his pockets and walked slowly towards you, his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“Happy birthday Y/N. I don’t mind repeating that day again... just don’t make me ride the roller coaster twice this time.”

///

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter One: Tired Of This Body

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn't going to go down without a fight. It's just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 7,883

Author’s Note: ugh... well, here it is. Don’t be afraid to send me hate mail or leave a comment. I love it when I make you guys sad (in a loving way of course) :)) good luck you little shits and may the odds be ever in your favor (FYI, they’re not)

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

I've grown tired of this body Cumbersome and heavy Tired of this body Fall apart without me

“I understand you’re here with concerns of a mass you found—”

He was shaving. The mirror fogged from his shower and the room heavy with steam. Leisurely, he’d wasted time getting ready. That particular morning, he’d gotten up before his alarm and he was happy for the distraction of the near-boiling water pouring over his back while the cold tile bites into his shoulder. An easy stress-reliever before the day fully starts.

Dragging a cool rag over his face he’d caught sight of a slightly swollen place on his chest. He’d dropped the rag in the sink and gently probed the area. He’d expected the sting of a bruise, not a knot of hard lumps.

It wasn’t a bruise.

“I regret to inform you—”

He hadn’t even known there were lymph nodes in the chest.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, sir?”

There’s a whole staff of people fluttering and dodging his eyes. A blur of motion as they work around him. Of them all, Hotch has already developed a soft spot for. Dr. Fitz and the glasses that are too big for his face despite his attempts to make them fit his face. There are rubber bands wrapped around the earpieces to push them tighter around his head and a piece of tape holding one of the lenses in. It’s strangely endearing.

No matter how many times Hotch tells Dr. Fitz that Aaron works just fine, he still nervously throws in the courtesy. He’s just like Reid and it’s that thought that makes him both comfortable and so unbearably alone.

With a nod, Hotch tugs his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. The cold air hits his bare chest and he holds his breath for a moment, shivering slightly before he takes control once again. Foyet’s scars are on broad display for the whole room but, to their credit, none of them blink. They’re not here to dissect the scars covering his body or take stock of the weight he’s put on.

He just goes where he’s pulled. If he flinches when they touch him, no one comments. It’s for the better, mostly.

“The tattoo is going to guide the external beam radiation at your tumor,” Dr. Fitz explains once again. His hands tremble slightly as they hold the little needle in his hands. “It’s just three dots.”

Hotch nods, his mouth a little too dry. This whole process a little too much. He nods his understanding, fists clenched at his side to force himself to show no outward reaction. It doesn’t bother him as much as it should those dots are going to be with him forever. His first and last tattoo.

Forcing a steadying breath, he glues his eyes to the ceiling. It stings but it’s not unbearable. The needle digs into his chest, pushing the ink in. It’s the second and third dot that get him. His skin is getting hot, sore enough to make him gunt as the last one is placed.

“Not nearly as fun as a normal tattoo,” one of the other doctor’s observes. Hotch, blinking back tears, looks over at his other doctor. A woman whom he’d never have figured the “tattoo” type. His brain is a little preoccupied, worn down. He’ll get over not profiling her very well, he just might not forgive himself for the slip-up.

Hotch just… grunts. Not a real answer but the easiest.

He’s offered a hand up but he doesn’t take it. Shoulders sore and arms weak, he pushes himself up. Leaning to the side when his head starts to pound, his mouth really, really dry.

“Alright—” a cold gloved finds his shoulder. “You’re just panicking,” he’s reassured. “You need to breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” The hand squeezes his shoulder but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. It feels like he’s going to pass out. But… he doesn’t. He breathes as instructed and slowly, the room calms back down.

As he peels his eyes open, chest tight and hands trembling, he finds the room still every bit as busy as it was before his little fit. The world really doesn’t stop.

“Are you sure—,” Dr. Fitz twists and worries his hands. Obviously, he’s worked himself up too. Probably blaming himself for Hotch’s reaction. He should have let him take a break or warned him a little better. “Most people find it helpful to have someone here,” Dr. Fitz observes. “Do you— Do you want to call someone?”

His eyes drop to the floor, his mind-- Haley. She would be here. Cracking jokes and poking at his side. Things used to be so much easier with her around. There was this magic about her, a drug her presence doped him up. She would light the room up and hold his hand. She’s not here, though. She’s dead and he’s having a hard time convincing himself this isn’t some sort of penance.

Snuffing out a light like her, it was bound to have its consequences.

They’ve marked him and with his advanced stage, he’s got an aggressive treatment plan, and the radiation starts tomorrow. So, no. No, he doesn't want to call anyone. He just wants to serve his time. Besides, who would he call?

JJ? With two children of her own and a painfully busy schedule.

Reid? His mother occupies his mind as is.

Morgan? He’s grappling with a relationship with Savannah, attempting to salvage all of the complex things life has thrown at him.

Dave? Hasn’t he already lost a child? The last thing he needs is to sit here for any given amount of time and watch this.

And he’d never, never put Garcia through this.

“No,” he rasps, laying back down. “I’m okay.”

He closes his eyes and when a single hot tear runs down his cheek, he doesn’t wipe it away. I’m okay.

I’m okay.

There aren't immediate side effects and he’s not sure if that’s a relief or worse. He’s anxious, nearly sick with nerves. Would it not be simpler to just get sick already? To throw up or get sore or just— anything.

The machine hurts his ears. Fifteen minutes of lying perfectly still gets hard after about two minutes. The whole process exacerbated by the way the low hum of the machine makes his head feel like someone’s digging at his skull with an icepick through his ear.

He’s assured he shouldn’t start feeling any symptoms for a few days. Likely not until the second week of treatments.

It takes five days for a stitch in his side to take his breath for a moment, doubling over as he struggles to breathe for a moment. Chest tight and head fogged. They just add another pill bottle to the other whole collection he’s accumulated on his nightstand.

It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. A hand gripping a fist full of his hair and dunking his head back under the water. Ties binding his wrist to the bed. A knife buried in his side.

It feels like the ground he’s standing on is rumbling, shifting beneath his feet and at any given moment it’s going to pitch him forward. A free fall and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to land on his feet.

He’s staring at the ceiling. Fists gripping the sheets as his stomach twists and churns. Swallowing around the uncomfortable burn in his throat, he turns his head to the side. Watching the movements just outside his bedroom window. Jack’s outside, kicking his soccer ball, and waiting for Daddy to come to join him. Hotch, will have to join him sooner rather than later. Even with the yard fenced in, anything could happen out there.

Funny. Just a few weeks ago, anything could have been blown under the rug with “at least it’s not cancer”. Now he’s plotting his will out in his head, making sure he covers every little thing. Who will lead the team? Where will Jack go? Can Jessica handle arrangements and should he start preparing the comfort letters now?

In the face of it all, he’d thought he could accept this. Life goes on. Things happen. He doesn’t want to die. All of those poems, the books, and the lies. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.” Well, that’s right shit, in his opinion. What comes next? Not light. Not hope. His body will succumb to cancer leaving behind the carnage of his actions.

Hodgkin's Lymphoma…

He’d known, in that morbid way his thoughts tend to twist, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. That it would be silly for the doctor to smile, sympathetic to his plight, and advise him to talk to his therapist about this new progression of paranoia. For a pat on the back. Instead, he got the cold examination table under his back, and the nurse giving his trembling hand a squeeze as the needle had plunged into his chest.

It’s all been a haze since that phone call. Since the confirmation. Now he’s got more blood tests scheduled for Monday. That’s what his life is now. Radiation for fifteen minutes for four days a week. On the fifth day, he gets blood work drawn. They check for enzymes and cells. He doesn’t really care to understand.

He should. Don’t mistake the careless, numb ache thinking about all this gives him for complete inattention to detail. It’s just a little much for one person.

Hotch finds himself wondering what Reid would tell him about the whole process. Statics that would knock the wind from his lungs and odds that would make him feel just a little better. That he’s too old and too stressed out. That radiation aimed at his chest can harden his arteries and increase his already high chances of a heart attack. That he should have seen this coming-- his father died at 47. Lung cancer. A heart attack.

He should have seen it coming.

“Daddy?”

He has to lean into his nightstand as the ground warps beneath his feet. “I’m coming,” he manages, closing his eyes and blindly hoping that his door is shut and Jack can’t see him. He wishes he’d smoked more. Indulged in Dave’s cigars. Gone drinking with Derek. Danced like Penelope. Fuck, smiled more.

He didn’t even know there were lymph nodes in the chest. He’d gone to law school. Spent his early adulthood learning to read complex course material and how to cry softly in a room with another person less than five feet from him. Maybe he should have studied Biology… but then he’d just have to come to terms with the fact that this whole mess was bound to happen. Predisposed. Genetic and environmental.

His fault.

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

Six in the morning is not a typical time to be fielding calls from concerned police officials. “He—Hello?”  Which, now that phone is tucked under his chin, and the call answered, he realizes that he should have checked the caller ID. As stated, is it six in the morning and he doubts anyone too important is calling him at this hour.

Unless, of course, his luck has finally run out and yet another political disaster has occurred. Leaving him to clean the wreck.

The other end makes a strange noise before he’s greeted with, “--finally! I was almost worried you wouldn’t answer!”

Oh.

Emily.

“Morning,” he greets, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’s a little too grumpy for this right now but she’s obviously called for a reason, her happiness seeping into tone, and he’s not going to purposely ruin that. How many hours ahead is London, again? Why is she awake?

“I was worried,” she admits. He can hear her working, the drag of her pen across paper, and the shift of the leather chair she’s sitting in. Even her keyboard clicking away as she multi-tasks. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Home. He smirks, she’s been overseas now for several years. Yet, she still refers to Virginia as home. The thought makes him shake his head. He’d never draw the conclusion out loud to her but he can imagine that little slip-up is one of the reasons that her on-again-off-again boyfriend Michael grows frustrated with her. It’s not her fault. It’s an understandable mistake but it certainly reflects a certain tone for her affections of London.

Her preferences.

“They’re fine,” he answers, evenly. “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” He pauses to splash water across his mouth, preparing to wash his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

He places his phone on speaker and sets it on the shelf above his sink. Ducking his head, he listens to her while he washes his face. Going about the habitual process of shaving. A comforting thing he’s always done. He’s got no preference when it comes to facial hair. A beard is just as easy as a clean face. It’s about shaving. It’s soothing. It’s one of the few things that’s remained constant in his life.

She’s talking-- he thinks about how the weather in London has hit a point in the season that she doesn’t particularly like. Raining and cold. That she wants to come home but she isn’t sure she should. Will she really be able to tear herself away from the Virginia weather? From them?

He’s half-way done shaving when his eyes drift to his shirtless chest.

He wonders how many times he shaved, how many mornings did he wake up before he realized-- before he saw the tumor or the lump or mass or whatever the hell the medical term is. He lowers his head, sighing in defeat but mostly anger. How’d he let it get to this?

“Anyways,” she sighs. Sounding every bit as tired as he feels. “How is home? How are you?”

He looks at himself in the mirror. His head is absent of reason. No logic or forethought.

“I have cancer.”

-------------------------------- Everything about Aaron Hotchner is traditional and simplistic. It’s not a bad thing. In the years that she's known him, she’s grown fond of that. It makes him predictable and reliable. Something that happens infrequently in people the older that she gets. A part of her does feel wrong for clinging to that, to him, but she cherishes his friendship. Through the ups and downs.

Their means of communication are letters. Once a week she can expect to find two to three pages of neatly written updates on her family across the pond. He’ll ramble about anything in those letters and that’s what she enjoys about them the most. There is no hesitation to tell her what he thinks. In those letters, she can find Aaron. Incredible soft, thoughtful Aaron.

It’s been two weeks since he’s sent a letter. Not to sound clingy but she’s kind of hurt. More so, she’s nervous to find out what’s taking up so much of his time. He’s routine with his responses. Almost every Thursday night she can curl up with his newest letter and a glass of wine and read about the BAUs newest adventure. It’s always a bonus when throws in his subtle little “I” statements. I miss you’s come rare but when they do happen it’s nice.

Sighing, she caves. It’s Friday, she hasn’t heard from him in two weeks, and she misses him. By the time she has his contact picture pulled up and the ring tone dialing-- his goofy picture from his badge grinning at her-- she realizes that her eleven am is his six am. Just as she’s starting to think he won’t answer it goes through.

“H--Hello?” he sounds like shit. Over the course of the last year, she’s managed to forget what he sounds like. His voice is startlingly deep which does surprise her just a little.

“Finally!” she mumbles. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer!”

He yawns and it makes her smile. “Morning,” he grumbles and she can hear him scratching tiredly at his face. She feels guilty for waking him up for only a moment. That is until she remembers he gets up at six. So it’s likely she called right after his alarm clock went off.

Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, she turns her computer on. Settling in behind her desk and getting to work. “I was worried,” she tells him. Not sure if she’s meaning to sound mad at him for not sending his “everyone’s alive and well” letter or mad that she doesn’t know how he is. He’s thrown her off her routine. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Her worry bleeds into the statement but he’s too tired to feed it or make fun of it.

She can hear him huff softly, an almost laugh.

“They’re fine,” he answers softly. His voice is drowsy, “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” She hears the tap run, he pauses, and she can hear him splashing water on his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

She smirks, it was raspberry. Although, she doubts Garcia liked it as much as he says. She’s not a huge raspberry fan. Besides, Emily had sent that tea with one specific tea drinker in mind: him. The thing about Hotch is, he’s traditional, but he’s also complicated. That’s just Hotch for “I enjoyed the tea you sent”.

Really, she’d just wanted him to be introduced to more teas than his just his simple black tea. Be more creative. Have some fun.

“I’m glad Garcia liked the tea,” she says with a smirk. “She’s been texting me all week.” Pictures, texts, and a few Snapchat. Emily doesn’t entirely know how to use Snapchat yet but she’s getting the hang of it. “You guys being grounded is relaxing, I’m sure, but that woman’s got way too much time on her hands.” Emily shakes her head at the thought. Lovingly, of course.

“Anyways,” she runs a hand over her face and she lets out a sigh. “How is home? How are you?”

There’s a long pause on his end. All his busy movements coming to a halt. It makes her heart pick up its pace, her gut twisting. Suddenly, that knee-jerk thought, that stupid thought that something might be wrong feels true. She’s just about to say his name when his voice cuts through.

“I have cancer.”

Her first reaction is oh. At least she was right.

That is immediately followed by-- oh fuck.

“Are you…” she swallows thickly, work forgotten. “Have--” Where does she even begin?

He clears his throat, “Hodgkin's Lymphoma.” He answers without her actually having to ask. It feels to get it off his chest, literally. To tell someone. “I guess--” he makes a choked sound like the shock of this news is setting in again. “They have to put, uhm, ink to locate the right place. So, I… I have a tattoo of sorts now.”

She laughs a half-pained sound. “I’m sure Morgan doesn’t consider it to be a tattoo,” she manages around the tightness of her throat. She cringes at the thought, ink and a needle just digging into his flesh. Cancer invading his body.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but when he does, she understands the silence.

“I haven’t told them.”

As much as she wants to be mad at him, she shouldn’t really expect anything different. He’s painfully shy and private. God knows if she hadn’t found him half-dead in the hospital after Foyet, he’d have gone as long as possible without telling them. He certainly wouldn’t have told them while still hospitalized.

It’s the same lack of forethought that goes through them, a moment of blindness. He’d felt the weight of restraints pulling his limbs down when the admissions had left his lips. She feels only conviction, “I’m coming home.”

It catches him entirely off guard.

She winces when he starts coughing. His first symptom since starting radiation. It’s a horrible sounding dry cough that makes her lungs ache just to hear.

The coughs fold him over, the force at which they leave his mouth is painful. What is it that makes coughing so painful? That’s never made much sense. It’s just air, right?

“Hotch?”

He rubs at his sternum, trying to externally soothe the muscles. “I’m okay,” he chokes. Shakily, his right-hand bears his weight as his left turns the faucet on. With his palm, he manages to sip a few mouthfuls of water. It just doesn’t stop the coughing. “I’m okay.”

She highly doubts that. There’s not a single thing about what she just heard that sounds “okay” by anyone standards-- certainly not his. “Are you going to work like this?” she asks. It’s hard to believe he’d allow himself to be seen in any state that isn’t tip-top shape. On that note, she also knows that way too good at putting on a show, and, for profilers, the team sucks at making that distinction.

The anger that evokes in him is undue. Admittedly, he overreacts. “I said I’m fine,” he barks. “I don’t need you checking in on me, Prentiss. I don’t need you here, too!” To watch. It’s bad enough, okay? That he’s going to have to tell his six-year-old son that he’s dying. Each morning a little more than the last and some days feel like he’s already half-lowered into the ground.

And the others. Reid and those sad eyes. The way Morgan won’t be able to look at him, just avert his gaze and storm out of the room. Dave’s crushing hug and JJ’s silent tears. Garcia… He can only imagine the raging in-betweens of what the news will do to her. Stress baking cookies he won’t be able to stomach. Knitting him hats, sweaters, and blankets with feverish vigor that he won’t be able to escape.

He could use one of Garcia’s love knitted blankets right about now.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he relaxes his tight grip on the sink. Knuckles paled and fingers aching.

“Sorry,” Emily finally manages after the long moments of silence.

Hotch hangs his head, biting his lip hard to stop the flow of emotions trying to work their way up. “No,” he rasps, thickly. He sniffles, scoffing when he rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist, finding tears. “That was… inexcusable. I’m so sorry,” he leans down, body in half as he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

This doesn’t even feel like his body anymore.

“Aaron?”

There are tears streaming down his face, he’s too tired to fight them off. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in agreeance, unable to trust his voice.

“Take it easy, okay? I love you.”

The line dies before he can hasten out a reply.

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

She’s been waiting on a reason to leave London for longer than she’s willing to admit.

Her dying friend proves to be reason enough.

Clyde has obvious mixed feelings but he can’t hold her back. He and Hotch had gotten set on the wrong foot. The rivalry between the two men is childish but endearing. Almost nothing has made her feel as loved as the proud smiles they both wear when she greets them. Clyde overwhelmingly pleased he’d won her back to London and Hotch smug she’ll travel hours to come to see him (she hadn’t done that for Clyde).

Almost nothing beats that.

“Emily!”

Her eyes are scanning the crowd before her, searching for her mismatched ragtag family. Sore thumbs, bobbing up and down in the crowd, they wave her to them. She notices he’s not there immediately.

“Princess,” Morgan sighs her name into her hair and she turns her face into his shoulder. Drawing in the strength she can feel wavering with a new wave of anxiety washing over her. It helps that they’re here. Derek’s arms wrapped around her after what feels like a lifetime away.

It’s only taken her three decades but she’s found her family and she’s not letting anything drag her away this time.

Garcia pushes at Morgan, causing a choked laugh out of them all. “Stop hogging all the Emily-lovings!”

Morgan smirks, trying to hide the relief swelling in his eyes like tears. He gets one more good look of her, eyes combing over her before parting with a sad smile. Relieved.

There’s a blur of motion. She’s pulled to each of them.

Garcia hugs like she’s trying to crush ribs and Emily lets her.

Hugging Dave brings tears to her eyes. Fuck, she’s missed them.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Emily threatens when she spots Reid near the edge. Pulling him close she rests her head against his shoulder, happy when he squeezes her back. “I’ve missed you, boy wonder.” Her genius. Just as scrawny as when she left him. She doesn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

Dave claps his hands together, grabbing one of the three bags she’d dropped. “Let’s get lunch, kiddos. We can talk about London.” He winks at Emily and she knows that this is going to spin into a conversation about potential love interests. She hasn’t had love on the brain in a while.

London… not everything she wishes it was. Cold and rainy. Relentlessly.

For the first month, she was over there, all she wanted was to come home. She just kept waiting for the rain to ease up. Then there should be that wet, hot humidity that clings to everything. She’d hated that before but now she’d just give anything to have it. For Reid to drag her out for coffee and the sun to bring out the chipper inflection in Garcia’s voice.

How the sun looked on Jack and Henry’s little head when she’d run around the park with them.

Fuck London, she’s just glad to be home.

“So,” she’s allowed them their fill of questions. Things about INTERPOL and if she’s still leaning heavily on take out food or if she’s managed even the faintest bit of finesse concerning cooking (she hasn’t). Leaning onto her elbows, she asks the question that’s been bugging her for hours. “Where’s Hotch?”

Dave leans back in his chair and JJ’s the first to crack. Of course, her poker face just isn’t that great. Her eyes move to Dave, concern written across her face. They might not know but it’s not that hard to figure out they know something isn’t right.

Reid shifts uncomfortably, averting his eyes, and focus.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Dave informs her. He settles back in his chair, arms crossing on his chest. “He’s…” he sighs tiredly. For a moment he just shakes his head. Rubbing a hand over the coarse hair on his face and then rubbing at his eyes. “He’s Aaron,” Dave mumbles. “Complicated and… reserved.” He looks at her now, zeroed in on just her. Just them.

Her heart races at just the thought of them knowing.

JJ clears her throat. She distracts her worry with rubbing her nail at the glass. “He says he’s at meetings,” she tells Emily. “Says--” she shakes her head, flustered. Upset. Pulling in a breath, she shakes softly as it comes in. “Every day, he sends me an update email. Just a list of things he expects to get done for the day or places he might be.” JJ tucks a strand of her hair back from her face. “Our jobs circle around each other, a lot. It makes my life easier if I can find him without running all over the place.”

Morgan turns his head, away from the conversation. Wishing to be uninvolved but unable to escape.

“He’s lying,” JJ concludes. She worries her lip with her teeth. “His lists are…” her eyebrows furrow as she struggles to say exactly what she means. “Last week,” she says with a nod, having come up with her perfect example. “He said he’d be in a meeting. Didn’t tell me where, he always tells me where.” Her eyes scan over the table, looking for more. “Something’s wrong and he won’t tell us.”

Morgan huffs, shifted now so that his arms are wrapped tightly around himself. His legs crossed, even. Distant. “I don’t see why we don’t just let him be.” His tone betrays what he’s really feeling. That anger and the vulnerability. His words are reflexive. He’s always pushed away when things get tough.

Emily wants to rise to his defense or to say anything but she can’t.

“Reid went into his office yesterday--”

Reid flinches. The memory or the feeling, he draws himself in. Shielding himself from whatever is being said.

Garcia looks down at her lap.

“He was asleep at his desk,” Dave finishes, despite seeing just how uncomfortable Garcia and Reid look. “Out like a-- Asleep like he hadn’t rested in a while. It took-- I had to shake him awake. He was warm to the touch and shaking.” Dave looks down to the table. “Shaking. He was weak and I’d known,” he looks up, frowning sadly. “I’d known something was wrong before but whatever is, we’ve got to get to the bottom of it.”

The bottom of it… God, they’re going to be devastated.

Lunch brightens. It’s forced to when the conversation shifts to the children. To Henry starting fourth grade and Jack’s in middle school now. Since when did those babies grow up?

Sooner than maybe she’s ready for it, she has to leave them. She’s too tired, too jet-lagged.

And maybe… Maybe she’s ready to bother Hotch. To reacquaint herself with his grumpy, silent nature. Isn’t it silly to think she’d hated him once?

Now she knows where his house keys are hidden.

The key hits the lock and she realizes how this might not be as great of a plan as she had planned it to be. “Hotch,” she calls into the dark. She peaks around, hoping if he’s home he’s not on edge. She’s seen him hypervigilant, she knows this is an awful plan. Even calling ahead might not have been enough. So, it’s more than brave for her to just come barging in.

She puts her back near the coat rack, still hunched into herself in case he comes barreling around the corner. He doesn’t. “Aaron?” His car is out front, despite the darkness of the room suggesting the house is empty. The blinds are drawn shut, blocking all-natural light into the house. The air is cool. “Aaron if you’re here please, please don’t shoot me.”

Shutting the door behind her, she progresses into the living room. The creaking of floorboards draws her attention to the other side of the house and she spots him.

He comes around the corner of the hall, from the direction of his room. Tired eyes move up to find her, his lip quirks into half a smile. “Emily,” he greets under his breath. He’d heard the door open but the binds weighing his wrist and ankles to the bed had been too much for him to lift. Pained and slowed, he’d made his way to figure out who was home.

Certain it’s not Jack, he should have had a little more trepidation about coming out here to investigate.

She approaches him slowly, soaking in every line and angle of his body. The way he’s favoring his right side is a new thing but the crescent moons under his eyes are a comforting familiarity. Pulling in a breath, she drags her eyes all the way up to him. He’s lost some weight and it just makes his cheekbones that much more hauntingly sharp. It draws attention to the scars on his face, thin and aged.

With a smile, she shakes her head at him. “Just as ugly as when I left,” she informs him.

He smiles tiredly, sighing at her playful taunt. It makes the hug she pulls him into relieving. The aches and chills he’s felt all day lessen as she wraps her arms around him. Something about the way her hand cups the back of his neck while the other rubs his up along his spine.

She’s standing on the tips of her toes, stretching to get to him. He leans down into her, closing his eyes. She just holds him that much closer. Against her, she can feel the beating of his heart. The way his nerves had amped his heart rate up and now, as the beat slows, the way he calms under her touch.

“How are you?” she asks quietly. They pull apart and she feels the absence of his warmth immediately.

He pulls in a weak breath, one he lets out a strangled cough. Shakes his head and offers a shrug. “I’m okay,” he assures her.

She doesn’t fail to notice how his right hand shakily reaches out to steady him against the wall. They’ve never agreed on the definition of okay and, so, it’s not that surprising they wouldn’t now.

Burying a cough into the elbow of his arm, he starts to tremble. His breathing takes a heavy quality as he stands there. It takes only a moment for him to draw himself up to his full height,  swallowing down against the pain and forcing his body to bend to his will. If she didn’t know better, nothing would look wrong at all.

“Can I get you anything,” he asks, clenching his teeth to keep steady despite how exhausted he feels. “How long are you staying?” He knows she won’t actually answer that first question, so he steps by her and lets her follow him into the kitchen. Hyper-aware of the way he moves his body. Trying to look normal instead of stiff.

She follows him, watching for clues in the slips of his armor. One of the many benefits of having known him so long and knowing him well is that he can’t get much past her. “I’m staying for as long as I’m welcome,” she replies. It’s better than the truth, that she’s staying until he’s better.

He appreciates her choice of wording even if the truth is still there underneath it all. Leaving him the burden of the situation, which is considerably worse.

He sticks with a simple hum of understanding, knowing she’ll understand it as such. “Staying where,” he asks. Suspecting he already knows the answer. “Here?” He fills two glasses with water, desperate to soothe his dry mouth. Turning to her, he offers the first glass.

She accepts the glass without comment. “I didn’t think about where,” she lies, smirking over the glass rim at him. He shakes his head but doesn't comment. “Here would be good though.” She looks up at him and he shakes his head with a smile. “It would!” she defends. “I know you miss me and I could help around with Jack. If you won’t admit to it, I know he will.” Her smile twists mischievously, “besides, he’s my favorite Hotchner and I’ll make time to spend with him regardless of where I stay.”

He shakes his head but he’s already formulating how to move the guest room around to accommodate her. There’s not much in there. A bed with some regular looking sheets and two or three boxes of random things.

Putting her glass down on the counter she sighs. “We don’t need to worry about that right now.” Nodding her head back towards the hall she says, “you look miserable. Go to bed.”

He realizes that while she was talking he’s slowly started leaning more and more on the counter. Accumulating a lean to ease the aches wracking his body. She’s right. He looks miserable because he is. He’s exhausted.

“Do you need to take any medication?”

He shakes his head, not letting it bother him when she tucks herself against his side. Allowing him to lean into her. He doesn't but the warmth her body brings is pleasant enough to keep him going. 

He took everything he needed this morning. The medicine for the radiation rash he’s developed across his chest, the preventative pills for the fibrosis that might build in his lungs because of the radiation, and a whole other list of things he can’t really remember. He just has the bottles on his nightstand and knows that most require two dosages.

His bed is warm and soft, his eyes closing against his will. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t let her see him like this. This is his battle and he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with it. There’s a comfort in sharing, though. Rather it be the brush of her fingers on his forehead, pushing back his crazy or the kiss she presses to his temple before whispering “get some sleep, Hotch”.

And, honestly, he’s tired of being alone.

“Emily?”

She turns in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

Someone has to be here. She wants to be here. “You’d do the same for me.”

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

Legs crossed, hair pulled into a half-assed knot atop her head she watches him curiously. He’s up an hour later than she’d expected. No coffee to go along with the egg he has for breakfast. Between them, they have an entire morning spent without nearly a word. Just a simple, “do you want an egg?”

He gets ready but not for work.

“What’re you doing?”

She gets ready too. For what, she’s not sure, but she’s interested none-the-less. Even if she thinks she knows the answer. It’s very interesting, she thinks, to step into the living room and find him staring dumbly back at her. No, not interesting. It���s fun.

Stepping around him, she pulls her coat off the rack. “Isn’t it obvious,” she asks, slipping her feet into the boots. “I’m coming with you.”

Flannel and jeans aren’t his typical go to but it’s a relaxed look. One she finds she doesn't hate.

He crosses his arms on his chest, eyebrows furrowed and a stern frown in place. Startlingly in control for a man she watched choke down half an egg before calling it quits. He hadn’t even had coffee. Now he shifts his weight, left to right. “Emily this isn’t--” he just stands with his mouth open. After a moment he shakes his head. “You don’t want to come.”

So it is treatment.

She pulls her jacket tight around her shoulders and without comment pulls his down too, offering it to him.

He takes it with a sigh, shaking his head, but pulling the sleeves over his flannel. With a sigh, he grabs his keys off the counter. He points a finger at her, looking every bit the father scolding a troublemaking child. “You’re not coming inside the hospital. It’ll be an hour. You’ll drive someplace else. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

She smirks, pleased she’s won this round. Placing two fingers to her temple, she gives him a mocking salute. “Aye-aye captain!” Today, she won’t push. He’s come this far, weeks into his therapy. If he needs some time, then he needs time. Just so long as he knows she’s here now.

Leaving him is harder than she anticipated.

She takes his seat, half-listening as he stands at the door.

“There an outlet about five minutes North,” he says. He watches her move the seat around. Trying to drag the seat closer to the steering wheel so she can actually reach the pedals. “It’ll give you something to do. There’s a bookshop up there too. I-- I take Jack there.” He runs a hand over his hair. “A coffee shop and a smoothie stand and--”

She catches sight of the grey through his hair. Looking away, she clenches her jaw. Worry the edge of the steering wheel. “Aaron,” she finally stops him. “I can take care of myself for an hour. I’m a big girl.”

He shakes his head, ducking to so she can’t see the blush creep up his cheek. “Right,” he manages. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She nods, “an hour.” She waits until she can’t see him. Those doors closing behind him. Swallowing him whole. It’s just an hour.

She was gone for an entire year. More than that really. Years. What are years to a single hour?

The coffee shop is quant. She can imagine him here. Tucked away within the stacks of books. Reid would like it here. The covers are old but, she thinks with a smile, he’d find something, not to date. Seeking a classic and turning away when it’s not in its original translation. That’s where Garcia has always been his balance. She’d pull him from a rant and sit him down with a cup of tea.

How had Emily ever left them?

Her hands tremble as she runs a finger over those old book backs. Mostly, she wonders what Hotch must be thinking. Heaven or hell. If all the work they’ve put into this job will account for anything at all in the end.

If it’ll hurt.

Her phone goes off. Done. Simple enough.

“I brought you a smoothie!” She’s got his sunglasses on when she pulls up. Not even offering to get out of the driver’s side.

He’s hurting more than he cares to admit. Tired and the rash on his chest burns. Seeing her pull up, he’s glad she doesn’t do more than hook her finger into the sunglasses and peer over their edge at him. Climbing into the car he takes one look at the smoothie and shakes his head. It’s dark green and even if he were hungry he’s sure that isn’t very good. “No thank you,” he mumbles, leaning back into the seat. He tilts his head against the rest.

She’s not really in the mood for arguments. More so, he’s just gotten out of treatment and all he’s had is an egg. “You’ll drink it,” she informs him, putting the car in drive. “Maybe not now but eventually.”

He grunts. Doubt that. If he’s going to manage to stomach anything, it’s not going to be that. Besides, he’d got plans: take a nap. That slowly goes down the drain.

Emily turns up the radio, humming along to a song he doesn’t recognize.

Turning his head, he watches her drive. He hasn’t told her yet but he’s very thankful she’s come back. Even if he’s slightly tainted the return with… She’s here taking over his life. Worming her way into his spare bedroom. Force-feeding him weird green smoothies. He doubts she’ll stop there.

“Hotch?” He doesn’t wake up when she shuts the car off. From there on, she’s gentle. Careful as she extracts herself from the car. “Aaron,” she rubs his shoulder.

He pulls in a small breath, turning slowly to her. Half-lidded eyes find her, confused.

When they left the house he’d looked better. Better than now. Not so exhausted.

“You fell asleep,” she informs him, backing up as he sits up. He has to use the seat to get there but he makes it happen. She waits back for him, letting him take his time getting out of the car. All while holding that damn smoothie she’s convinced she’s going to make him drink.

He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes when his phone goes off in his pocket. She turns at the door, waiting. He motions her on with a wave, taking the call. “Agent Hotchner speaking.”

She stops for a moment to watch him pull in the whole persona. Not Aaron who just fell asleep in the car but Hotch the rock. It’s sad, really, how quickly the one consumes the other.

She’s reading on the couch when he comes in.

He doesn’t say anything as he slips past, going back towards his room. He comes right back out. The loosely buttoned flannel is forgotten, replaced by a suit across his thin shoulders. Once, those suits had pronounced the sharpness of his body. The way his shoulders sit strong and straight. Now, that jacket doesn’t even look like it belongs to him.

“Where are you going?”

He only glances at her, ducking his head back to the task at hand-- putting on shoes.

She gets up off the couch, flipping the book text down. “Aaron,” she comes around the side. “You can’t go out there.” To work. It’s not healthy to go out there. He had fallen asleep on the ride home, not even twenty minutes ago. He won’t manage out there.

He turns to her as she steps into the room, scowl in place and a look of indifference pulled between them. All the protection he can garner for himself. “It’s not up for debate,” he replies. As if this is out of his control. He just can’t help but think it would be easier this way. It would hurt less, dying out there. A coherent death. He’d feel it. Quick and overwhelming.

But coherent. He’d know.

Not in a hospital. More machine than man. Unable to speak or too weak to think.

It would be better to die a hero.

“Aaron,” she calls, he’s just walking away. “You’re being unreasonable.” She wants to scream. To shout at him or grab him the collar of that oversized dress shirt and shake him. Force him to realize that he’s being stupid. Does he think she’s stupid? They both know this is self-destruction. Skipping treatment. Going into the field. All for this stupid image that he’s convinced himself is necessary. For who? Huh?

It’s better to suffer around people you love than to have them bury you. The only burden is the weight of your casket across their shoulders.

He turns, teeth clenched. Jaw set. “Am I?” he asks. His face has darkened, his cheekbones drawing his cheeks in. “I’m going,” he informs her, “regardless of whatever it is you have to say.”

He won’t look at her. That’s how she knows that no matter how illogical he’s being, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Back turned to her, he stops for just a moment. He knows this isn’t what he should. That this is neither his best option nor the right choice. Still, he opens the door. Stepping out he turns his head, eyes cast to the side. “I--” he shakes his head, he doesn’t know.

Before he can shut the door she calls his name out, fear overriding the anger. “Aaron,” she clenches her fists at her side. “Please be safe.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. Glancing at her, he nods his head. At least he has the decency not to lie to her. To pretend this is anything but foolish and a death wish. He shuts the door behind himself without another word.

Leaving her standing there.

Waiting.

She’ll still be waiting that night when Reid calls her. Incoherent.

“I-- I don’t know what’s wrong Emily! He won’t-- He’s bleeding and I--I… He said to call you.”

She shouldn’t have let him leave.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 8 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7)

Nixon - March 1944

The new year saw no improvement to Emily and Nixon’s relationship despite his fumbled attempts at reconciliation. Nixon felt that he went out of his way to make small talk with her, to be friendly (especially in the mornings) and to be enthusiastic about her work. Emily was outwardly friendly, to an appropriate degree, but Nixon could sense the barrier she had put up between them. When they had first met, she had been so open and warm, bordering on desperate for his friendship. Now, she made polite small talk and performed her tasks with a new rigid professionalism. Nixon couldn’t help but feel that this behavior was exclusive to him. He saw how she interacted with the men in the pub, in the mess, and on the rifle range; she didn’t seem to have a problem with any of them.

On more than one occasion Nixon found himself complaining to Winters about Emily’s insufferable behavior.

“Didn’t you find her attitude obnoxious before?” Winters asked.

“Yes, but I got used to that. Now she’s changed it up on me again! It's annoying is what it is,” Nixon said.

Winters dipped a spoon into a bowl of soup and brought it to his mouth, patiently waiting for Nixon to continue, “its the unpredictability, the mood swings! Women.” Nixon scoffed.

“Well,” Winters ate another spoonful of soup, “you were a jerk.”

Nixon’s brow furrowed, “not enough of a jerk for her to give me the cold shoulder for three months.”

“Has it been three months?”

Nixon didn’t answer. “You two still talk, I’ve seen you,” Winters said, “maybe she’s focusing on her work. It has gotten busier.”

“Yeah we talk, but not like before. And she seems to have plenty of time to talk to Harry or George Luz.”

Winters’ mouth crooked into a small, thoughtful smile, “why do you think it bothers you so much, Nix?”

Nixon caught his friends smirk, “Oh no,” he shook his head, “its not like that at all. She’s a kid. Besides, I’m invested elsewhere in this boring town."

Winters cocked an eyebrow, “so this really is just about friendship?”

“Friendship, friendliness - I just want things to go back to normal!”

Winters nodded and turned his attention back to his soup, “maybe this is the new normal.”

Nixon was running out of patience and hope. As March crept along he decided that he would simply have to come to terms with the impersonal working relationship that Winters called the new normal.

“Morning,” Nixon entered the intelligence HQ room with a manila folder already in hand. He was flipping through the aerial photos inside.

“Good morning, sir,” Emily said, barely looking up from her typewriter.

“We received some aerial photos this morning. Here look at this,” Nixon said, stretching out a black and white print to Emily.

She took it, “what’s this of?”

“Undisclosed,” Nixon said, “but we’ll be getting a lot more. Our office needs to piece the photos together and start building sand tables of the geography.”

Emily blew air out of her cheeks, “Wow, so this might be..”

“Yeah,” Nixon caught her gaze, “this might be it.”

“Okay, yeah we’ll get started on this.”

“Great.” Nixon shut the manila folder firmly and threw it on Emily’s desk. “Let me know what you need.”



“Will do, sir.”

Nixon waited until his back was turned to roll his eyes. He hated it when she called him sir. No one else would hear it, but he could hear the contempt in her voice. She wasn’t saying sir out of respect. He knew that she was doing it purposely to annoy him. Sure, he couldn’t prove it, but he knew it.

Nixon dropped into his desk chair just as Vest entered the room with uncharacteristic hesitance.

“Uh, Miss Rooney?” Nixon’s dark eyes flicked over to Emily. An unexplainable feeling of dread grew in his stomach. It grew stronger as he saw Emily’s face change. She was sensing the difference in Vest’s energy just as he had. Vest made his way over to her desk with a letter in hand.

“A letter for you,” Vest cleared his throat, “from the war department.”

Nixon sat straighter in his chair as Vest made his awkward retreat from the room. Emily ripped the edge of the envelope with trembling hands and slowly pulled the typed letter from its folds.

Nixon watched her eyes run across the ink-black lines. His heart beat in his ears in anticipation for her reaction. Finally, Emily let out a shuddering breath and the letter dropped from her hands. Fat tears began rolling down her cheeks. She pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to squash her sobs, her body folding in on itself as if to guard her from the world around her. Jolted into action, Nixon stood abruptly from his chair and was beside her in two strides. He positioned his body on the edge of her desk, blocking her from the curious looks from the other intelligence staff.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice.

Emily shut her eyes tightly against the tears, she shook her head indicating her inability to speak. Instead, she held up the letter. Nixon took it and read,

Dear Miss Rooney,

The following information is provided in regards to your fiancee, Corporal John Elliott. Your fiancee sustained significant wounds of the left leg and arm and on 11 March, 1944 was reported as being in a naval hospital in London, England for further treatment. You may be sure that he is….

Nixon stopped reading as confused relief softened the knot in his stomach. 

“Wounded, wounded in action,” he said.

Emily nodded. She ran her finger tips under her eyes. Her cheeks were sopping wet with tears, her eyelashes heavy with salt.

“Here,” Nixon handed her the handkerchief from his pocket. “It’s clean. Well, cleanish.”

Emily accepted it and swallowed hard, doing her best to compose herself. She patted her cheeks dry with the fold of the linen cloth.

“You okay?” Nixon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. This was their first physical interaction in months, but neither of them seemed to think anything of it. It was such a natural action considering the circumstances.

“Yeah,” she gulped, “I’m alright.” Emily exhaled, “it took me by surprise is all.”



“Naturally,” Nixon rubbed her back.

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess,” Emily’s voice cracked with emotion.

“You don’t need to excuse your reaction,” Nixon murmured, “this is big, scary news.”



“I thought- I just thought that it was going to say he was dead.”

“I know, I thought so too.”

“Lew, I - I was,” she hesitated.

“What?” he encouraged her.

“Never mind,” she screwed her face up as if thinking against what she was about to say. Her lips were swollen from crying, her lipstick slightly smudged from the press of her hand. “If he’s wounded I have to see if I can visit him.”

Nixon nodded, “absolutely.”



“Do you think we could find out where he’s at?”

Nixon grimaced with uncertainty, “uhm, I mean it’s not our branch. But I’ll see what I can do.” Nixon was conflicted; this seemed awful personal for him to get involved with. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get involved with Emily’s business considering how things had been between them lately. Then again, this could be his chance to make amends, to show her that he meant well by her.

“Lewis, thank you!” her voice was full of gratitude and looking down at her red rimmed gray eyes, Nixon prayed he would be able to find the hospital easily.

A few days later Nixon interrupted Emily at lunch, which she was once again spending with Welsh.

“I found him,” Nixon announced. He expected Emily look more excited.

“Oh thank you, Nix! Where is he?” Emily asked.

Okay, back to some version of a nickname, Nixon observed. That was a good sign. “Worcestershire.”

“Who’s this?” Welsh looked between Emily and Nixon.

“Worcestershire? I thought he was in London?”

“He was. He was originally with an evacuation hospital but has since been moved to a convalescent hospital in Worcestershire.”

“Ah, okay,” Emily said.

“That’s a good thing,” Nixon said, “he’s on the mend! And Worcestershire is only north of here.”

“Who’s this we’re talking about?” Welsh asked again, this directed just at Emily. 


“Right, I guess I should go up this weekend,” Emily spoke more to herself than the men. “I guess I’ll have to make sure…” she trailed off lost in thought.

“You’ve got my permission. That’s all you need,” Nixon said.

Welsh opened his mouth again but didn’t have the chance to speak before Nixon interjected, “her fiancee Harry, we’re talking about her wounded fiancee.”

“Ah,” Harry looked down at his plate suddenly uninterested in the conversation.

“Get the train Saturday morning and plan to be back by Sunday night, okay?” Nixon rapped his knuckles on the wooden dining table. “Okay, I’ll see you both later,” and he walked off without Emily’s confirmation.

The Friday before she was set to leave Emily was a ball of nerves. She was constantly tapping her foot, or getting up to walk around aimlessly. Her restlessness was grating on Nixon’s nerves, which was the last thing he needed with the headache he was nursing.

“Would you relax?” he finally snapped.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emily stilled her foot. But then only a few minutes later her fingers began drumming against her desk. The rigid tension between them had relaxed slightly since the letter had come but Nixon still felt like he was walking on eggshells. He was worried about being too harsh with her or of saying anything insensitive. The last couple of days he had been careful to be extra kind to her. The stress of seeing her fiancee again for the first time in at least a year, and knowing that he would be both physically and mentally different than he had been, was a lot to carry. Nixon knew this. He had taken it upon himself to offset her edginess but boy was he finding that particularly difficult at that moment.

“What’re you gonna be like when we get to the continent huh?” Nixon demanded, “that’s gonna be stressful too, are you gonna be able to handle it?” So much for not being too harsh or insensitive.

Emily scowled at him from her desk, “leave me alone, Nixon. I’ll be fine when we get to the continent. Will you? Gunfire isn’t great for a hangover.”

Nixon narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t say anything more. Finally, they made it to dinner and she excused herself early due to her early departure in the morning. A peculiar sensation came over him as he watched her leave. Seeing her walk away in her woolen skirt with pieces of her dark, red-brown hair flying away from where they were pinned down felt like some sort of goodbye. An anxiety that she was leaving to join her fiancee never to come back tickled at the back of his mind. Beside him, Harry Welsh was looking after her in just the same way. Nixon couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for both of them.

Nixon didn’t have plans for the weekend. He had a loose arrangement with a beautiful young local woman but didn’t feel particularly motivated to call after her that Saturday. His mind was with Emily, worrying if she had made it to the hospital safely. He squandered the day away in bed, then the pub and during a brief window of sunshine, walking around the outskirts of town.

England was beginning to defrost into Spring. When Nixon looked out at the rolling hills of Wiltshire, he could almost pretend he wasn’t there because of a war. He might have been there to study, or to visit family friends. There was a peacefulness in the open plains that surrounded the town of Aldbourne. Every stone, field, and building held a storied past that seemed to look past the impending events as if to say I have been here before and I will be here after.

Later that night Nixon excused himself from a game of poker for a cigarette outside. It was chilly out, but he was grateful for the fresh air while it wasn’t raining. He was stood just in front of the steps leading ups to the HQ building when he spotted a figure making its way up the driveway, suitcase in hand. It was a woman’s figure and Nixon’s first thought was another nurse was coming to join the ranks. But it was such a late hour for a new member of staff to check in. As the figure grew closer he recognized her.

“Emily?” he asked in confusion. Her features became clearer as she stepped into the dim light coming from the building. There was a bizarre expression on her face. Nixon didn’t know what to think of her. “Emily?” he repeated, “what’re you doing back?”

She didn’t smile, but her countenance was calm, serene even. Her eyes were wide and bright despite the limited light. She parted her red lips and with the intonation of surprise said, “I’m free, Lew.”

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Castle Towers Fall

Chapter 6 *Angst Warning* *Trigger Warning; Alcohol, Alchohlics, Abuse*

December 1903; London, England

Not even a week. His father hadn’t been home a week and he was already drinking his weight in alcohol. Alastair’s mother had come into his room, worried that something had happened to Elias, and asked him to go look for him.

Alastair already knew the first places to look; any local bar or pub. But to his shock, his father was nowhere to be seen. He check alleyways and parks but still no sign of Elias. Which is how he ended up at Devil Tavern. It was the only place he hadn’t checked and the one place he wanted to avoid as much as possible.

He spotted Elias the moment he had arrived. Slumped over on the bar, a half empty drink in front of him, the sight made Alastair sick to his stomach. He looked around and sighed in relief that he saw no one he knew there, this wasn’t a situation he wanted to explain to anyone.

Alastair looked around to find a bartender and walked up to the girl at the end of the bar. “Excuse me?” he asked, trying to get her attention.

“Yes?” The girl said as she turned away from the werewolf she had currently been serving. From the looks of her, she was a werewolf as well.

Alastair pointed to his father slumped at the other end of the bar. “How long has he been passed out?”

The girl looked puzzled and shrugged. “Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” he said, turning on his heel to go collect his father. He was almost tempted to leave him there, petty revenge for all the years he’s had to do this. But, his mother was counting on him to do this and he couldn’t stress her out more than she had already been. This pregnancy had been difficult, Sona often tired and holed up in her bedroom. Elias’s disappearing acts weren’t help her either.

“Come on, Father.” he grunted as he attempted to lift Elias’s arms over his shoulders. It was difficult, as his father was a lot heavier than he had originally thought. Also a lot more awake.

Elias had started to fight a little bit as Alastair helped him up, struggling against him. “No, I don’t need your help, I’m fine!” he slurred angrily and Alastair fought back a flinch. So he’s in that kind of mood tonight.

The bartender girl from earlier speaks up, “Do you need help, sir?”

“No, I’ve got it. He’s my father.” The girl gives him an odd look but shrugs it off and turns back to her customer.

“He doesn’t need to help me! I’m absolutely fine!” Elias continued to cry, Alastair inwardly sighing. You aren’t fine and you haven’t been in a long time, Alastair thought to himself.

Alastair had nearly managed to drag his father out the door, when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him, one that he did not want to hear. James Herondale. He turned his head, catching a glimpse of James and his band of friends gathered around the bottom of the stairwell. They all looked concerned, even Fairchild of all people. His eyes avoided Thomas’s, who’s face was fixed on his, scared of the look he might see.

“Alastair, is your father alright?” James asked as he stepped closer. Alastair quickly came up with an excuse, not wanting to deal with James’s pity or have him tell Cordelia. But by the looks of this, the latter might already happen.

“He’s just fine, thank you. Had a little too much to drink is all, my mother asked me to col-” he was cut off by his father struggling again, attempting to land some sort of punch.

Elias looked up at Alastair and growled out, “I’m just fine, boy. I can get home myself.” he couldn’t fight his flinch this time. At least he wasn’t facing his future brother-in-law and his group.

“Father, calm down, remember where you are. Where we are.” Alastair whispered harshly under his breath, he was not about to let their reputation be ruined again. Elias seemingly brushed him off, finally breaking out of Alastair’s hold, determined to prove that he could walk on his own two feet. The result was him stumbling bow-legged and falling on his face outside the door. Alastair quickly went to his father’s aid, shocked to see James doing the same.

“I don’t need help, Herondale. I can do this just fine on my own.” he said desperately, hoping that they would all just leave. He helped his father up, heaving one of his arms over his shoulder once again. James was at Elias’s other side in an instant, bringing his other arm over his shoulder. A big mistake.

Elias attempted to swing at James, but James, who was quicker and definitely more sober, had dodged out of the way and dropped his arm.

“Like I said, I can do it on my own.” Alastair said as he finally got Elias into the carriage. He finally turned to the group, still avoiding Thomas’s presence (after all, he didn’t really want to go for a swim in the Thames). Fairchild looked absolutely terrified, his face almost as green as his eyes, Alastair guessed he saw his own potential future in his father. The younger Lightwood, Christopher, seemed to have only just started to pay attention. James’s face was impassive and it seemed he had also done his fair share of helping out drunk people. Probably not ones that fought as much as Elias did.

He almost let his eyes drift to Thomas. Almost. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever look would be on his face, it would hurt too much. Instead, he bid them goodbye and turned on his heel, returning back to carriage, where his father had passed out.

The ride home was beyond terrible, the sour scent of heavy alcohol was emanating off of Elias, creating a terrible stench that made Alastair want to vomit. It also didn’t help that Elias kept tossing and turning in the carriage, jostling it quite a bit. He had hoped that Elias’s unconsciousness would last the night, but it hadn’t, he had woken up as Alastair helped him into one of the spare bedrooms. And he was just as angry as he had been in the pub, just a little bit more sober as well. Elias staggered up to Alastair, an angry expression schooled on his features. Alastair closed his eyes and hoped for the best. He may have been taller, stronger, but to his father; he was always weak.

Alastair hadn’t been expecting the blow when it had first landed, harshly on the side of his jaw with a crack. The force of it had knocked him to the ground, his father hovering over him. One of his hands went up to his face, cradling his hurt jaw, looking at Elias in horror. It had never been this bad. Maybe a few bruises that could be hidden under clothing, but never something this obvious. That was the part his mother didn’t know about, the hitting. He couldn’t break his poor Maman’s heart even more by telling her that Elias had hit him more than a few times while he was drunk.

Elias sneered in Alastair’s face, his breath smelled stale and sour like the beer he had been drinking as he spoke. “There’s no way you could be my son. Any son of mine would be able to take a punch without falling to the ground like a weak child.” he hissed out the last part, crouching to be in Alastair’s face more, making the younger man flinch.

“Papa-” Alastair whimpered, hoping it would get him to stop. But it only made the older man laugh.

“I am not your papa. I should’ve known your mother was lying to me. You look just like him!” Elias yelled in his face, uncaring that Alastair had started to crawl away from him. He was back up against a wall, trying to control his breathing. Elias was drunk, he didn’t know what he was saying, but it was so similar to what the girl in Paris had said...that he looks so much like his mother’s first husband. It couldn’t be true.

“Your mother has been lying to me for years! Just like the who-”

Before Elias could even finish the word, Alastair stood up and punched him right in the nose, effectively knocking him out. Alastair didn’t waste anymore time, he ran out of the spare room and didn’t stop until he was outside the house.

“Alastair!” A way too familiar voice called from nearby, but Alastair ignored the voice and collected his strength, kept running. And running. And running. Until he got to the River Thames.

Tags:

@alastaircarstairsourboi

@styxdrawings

@this-person-is-a-hoe

@imchaotic-dontmindme

@devikaontheoffbeat

@banescrown

@lucie-herondale-blackthorn

@fantasy-rep

@king1pin

@the-come-n-stare-family

@aceofjesper

[everybodyscupoftea]

just the plug?

college jj x reader

someone requested part 2 of the plug, which i honestly hadn’t considered. it took me a while to get this up because i wanted to do it justice, but here it is. wanted to get undertones of what can go wrong when ~love languages~ don’t match :)

warnings: per usual cursing, lil bit of angst

You thought, after your talk at the coffee shop, that the two of you were on the same page, but JJ’s actions left you feeling a little uncertain. It was almost like he was content to just not talk about it anymore, and you were left wondering if you had misread the whole situation after all.

The two of you still hung out all the time, keeping all your plans and previous routines. JJ started paying for the food more, and he always cleaned up the kitchen when the two of you finished, but he never brought up the relationship status.

You’d seen his past relationships, how he’d slept around in his younger years, and you didn’t want to judge based on that, he was older, but what else where you supposed to base his actions off of. Kie tried to repeatedly reassure you that JJ really liked you, but how were you supposed to know for sure if he never said anything.

One afternoon, you were studying in the coffee shop before your night shift. Grad level accounting was kicking your ass, and the closing shift always left you way too drained to give it the level of focus it required. You sipped at the latte your coworker made for you and highlighted a particularly important formula in the textbook.

Your phone lit up next to you, and you glanced over to see a text from JJ just as the screen went dark again. He’d texted asking if you’d had any lunch yet. Which, thinking back, no. Before you could respond he sent another text guessing no and promised to bring you some food.

A few minutes later, he pushed the door open, holding a bag of takeout from your favorite bagel shop down the street. Plopping down across from you, he smiled, taking his hat off to mess with his hair a few seconds before putting it back on.

“My hero,” you told him, reaching for the bag.

JJ laughed, “Yeah, well, can’t let you waste away, you’re too important.”

You smiled, “Important, huh?”

“Couldn’t survive without my plug for a few more months at least.”

And that brought you right back down to earth. You took a bite of the bagel and responded, a bit bitterly, “Right, my sole purpose in your life.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, leaning back in the chair.

That’s why you were confused. He did so many nice things for you, but it was like the dynamic never changed. You’d never held hands past that first night, hell the closest you’d been to him was an occasional hug because, ‘I’m not much of a hugger, bro’.

You decided to just spare your feelings and change the subject, “You got any big plans tonight?”

“Picked up Ethan’s shift, so we’re closing together.”

Perking up, you eagerly asked, “Movie night after?”

He sighed, picking at the wrapper his bagel had been in, “I wish, but I gotta meet with my bio partner tonight for our project. I normally wouldn’t have picked up the shift but I saw no one else had volunteered and I know how much stress you’re under, so I didn’t want you to have to close alone.”

“Oh, um, honestly it’s fine. You can go meet her; I know how extensive the project is. I’m pretty much done with my work anyway and it won’t be my first rodeo closing alone.”

JJ sat up straighter, “You sure?”

With a shaky smile and a nod, you responded, “Yeah, totally. I’ll text you later?”

“For sure, thanks, bud,” JJ stood and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before walking out of the shop, already texting his partner. You pressed your hand against your chest as a cold feeling overtook and squeezed.

The next night was your actual closing shift with JJ and he was late. You were tapping your foot in annoyance as he came running in, 30 minutes past the shift start, hastily tying his apron.

He bent over a little to catch his breath, “Fuck, my bad. Totally lost track of time.”

“All good,” you told him, not liking that it had become your go-to response for him as of late.

JJ looked around, “Looks like we aren’t too busy though, that’s good.”

“Well, we aren’t now, but I had a rush for about 10 minutes earlier.”

He did at least look like he felt bad, “Sorry, finishing touches on the project.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you said, tiredly.

“Would you feel better if I handled most of the closing duties and you could leave 30 minutes early?”

“Believe it or not, J, I enjoy our closing shifts together, so no, it will not. We’re still on for tonight, right?”

He looked a little hurt and confused, “Yeah, I, uh, did I do something wrong?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a few seconds, “No, everything’s fine.”

“Right, you keep saying that, but I feel like that’s a lie.”

With a shrug, you responded, “Feel whatever you want, but I’m telling you it’s all good.”

The shift was a little awkward and tense afterward. He kept asking if you were okay and your answers were getting shorter and shorter until you finally snapped, “Fuck’s sake, Maybank, can’t you just take my word for it.”

He held his hands up, looking hurt, “I’m gonna go start dishes.”

You sighed again, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. How did the two of you get there? Lack of communication maybe. You’d had two tests that week and you were exhausted. JJ was supposed to be a safe place for you to feel accepted and to feel relief, but lately it felt like he wasn’t as close. It was as if you could feel him slipping through your fingertips the closer it got to his 21st birthday.

By the end of the shift you just wanted to curl up in bed and not think about it anymore. You debated canceling to just sleep, but less time with JJ was actually the opposite of what you wanted. True to his word, he’d done most of the duties. He grabbed your hand on your way out, swinging them between you, reminding you eerily of the first time. This time though, it hurt.

JJ didn’t stop at the po-boy place, and he didn’t stop at the pizza place you sometimes switched it up with. He whistled softly and the two of you walked all the way to your apartment without getting any food at all. You unlocked your door, assuming he just wanted to order something, and got a huge whiff of something.

You turned to look at him and he was smiling widely, “I know you just took your last accounting test before finals, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”

JJ led you to the kitchen, and there he had a crockpot of what looked like roast cooking. You were honestly touched and with a smile, asked, “So was this your project finishing touches?”

“Yep.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I think you’re doing great, and I know this semester has been hard. I wanted to do something nice.”

When he hugged you, you melted into his embrace, not realizing how much you just wanted a fucking hug. Honestly, him initiating it without prompting was enough for you to look past the lack of conversation as of late.

JJ told you to go take your shoes off and get comfy, that he’d fix up plates for the two of you, so you did. Changing out of your jeans into sweats felt great, and when you got back, JJ had set the table and put both of your plates on it.

The two of you sat down and he joked, “Sorry there’s no wine, still not 21 and I couldn’t ask my plug, that would ruin the surprise.”

“Please, don’t ruin the moment with plug jokes.”

He looked confused, “Wait, I thought you liked plug jokes.”

“Plug jokes were funny until they started making me feel like that’s all I am to you.”

“All you are to me? I thought…I thought we were together?”

You couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh, “Since when? When did we have that conversation?”

“It was implied, right? Like when we started hanging out more and I started paying, that’s boyfriend shit.”

You weren’t even sure where to start with that. JJ was looking at you expectantly, “Sir, I need verbal confirmation. Not just this implied, unstated stuff. How the fuck was I supposed to know that was your intent until you tell me.”

He paused for a minute, “I suppose that’s true.”

You waited for him to continue, and he just took a bite of rice and gravy. When he glanced up at you, you gave him a look, “So, are we still not gonna have the conversation?”

“Was that not it?”

“Oh my fuck, JJ.”

He laughed, “Okay, to get this straight, I thought I was your boyfriend, but you didn’t know that. Now you’re upset, even though I’ve been wining and dining you the whole time.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“So are we on the same page, that I’ve been trying to communicate through my actions?”

You nodded reluctantly, “Yes, that’s clear now, but I still need words.”

“And I can do that, babe.”

The cold that had taken root in your chest these last few weeks suddenly warmed and you smiled, “Thank you, now was that so hard?”

JJ laughed, “I guess not. I was just, scared, I guess. I didn’t want to put a label on it too fast and put you off. Plus, you weren’t talking about it either.”

“Okay, that’s fair. I just felt like you only saw me as your plug, you kept making those stupid jokes. And you never really touched me.”

“I was trying to give you personal space! I know you aren’t the touchiest person.”

“That’s never been a problem with you,” you admitted to him with a small smile.

He looked pleased and immediately stood, pulling you into a tight hug, “I’ll try to be better.”

“So will I,” you told him, punctuating it with a kiss.

[jpegjade]

Holding It In - Spencer

Request: 

Y/N has been super stressed at work but doesn’t want to tell Spencer bc she doesn’t want to bother him but he profiles her and figures it out. 

Warnings? None unless you hate longass fluff. 

__________

“Y/N, great, you’re still here. I need you to take on more responsibility in and out of the office.” Your boss said. He wasn’t even looking at you, he was looking around the office trying to find his assistant. 

How much more responsibility did he expect you to handle? You were training the interns, handling your regular work load, and you were taking overtime shifts. How were you supposed to balance even more when you were already taking work home, something you promised yourself you would never do because you needed to draw a line somewhere. You needed balance and this was tipping the scales even further than they already were. You were overworked and underpaid.

“Yes sir.” You said, nodding your head. You wanted to explode already but this? This was going to make sure you exploded into thousands of little pieces. You needed help but there was nowhere you could find it. All of the responsibility fell on your shoulders and you couldn’t let anyone down. 

You had always felt that way. You can’t let anyone down because they’ll be disappointed in you, which was infinitely worse than just getting fired. When someone was disappointed in you, you saw it in their faces, the way they glanced at each other when you spoke, the way they wouldn’t meet your eyes. You hated that feeling and you knew that you couldn’t let anything happen to feel like that again. Never again. 

You finally got to leave the office at 11:52 pm, hoping that Spencer didn’t beat you home. You hadn’t talked to him in a couple hours because you needed to focus and he was your favorite distraction. Shooting him a quick text that you were on the way home, he responded with the wrong emoji. That meant he was busy but wanted to make sure you knew he was still responsive. 

Turning the key, you pushed the door through. Spencer wasn’t home, thank god. You still needed to shower and finish another report you had to present in the morning. Then you needed to look over the intern’s work and so much else. Stepping into the hot shower, you let the water wash over you. You let your thoughts drift off to the fact that any day now, you would get a promotion. This was all just a test to see who could handle the most pressure. Sure, you had the most on your plate out of everyone in the running but…

“Y/N? I’m home.” Spencer said, bringing you out of your thoughts. You jumped at the sound of his voice, wondering how long he had been back. 

“Hey, just finishing up. Give me a second.” You yelled over the water. Turning off the water and drying off. You forgot your clothes in your room so you just wrapped yourself up in your towel and went to find Spencer. 

He was eating Lucky charms at 1 a.m., tie loosened and his hair was a mess like he had been running his hands through it. You walked up to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled a tired smile and you grabbed yourself a bowl and sat next to him. He had a bad habit of setting the milk and the box on the table instead of putting them away after he filled his bowl. You poured yourself a bowl and sat in comfortable, tired silence. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, almost knowingly. 

You wanted to tell him. You wanted to get this weight off your chest and tell Spencer everything. You just wanted to break down and release all of your anger, frustration, and annoyance at your current work situation but you just couldn’t. Not to Spencer, who had his own problems to deal with. You were supposed to be there for him because his problems were so much greater than yours. You could handle a little more work. 

“Nothing, Spence.” You said, forcing yourself to smile. 

“Something is wrong and you’re not telling me.” He said, his brow furrowed. He stood up to put your bowl away at the same time he put his bowl in the sink. 

“You shower at night now, meaning you need stress relief rather than a way to wake up.” He walked back to where you were and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the bedroom. 

“Y/N, you wake up two hours earlier than you need to, leaving earlier than you need to, even though the bus doesn’t come for 30 minutes after you leave the apartment. Your hair is often messier than mine by the end of the day, meaning you were frazzled at some point through the day. Your texts have more errors in them, which means you were rushing or your arms are full. You don’t go anywhere without your laptop, which means you need to stay connected to the world. You don’t-” 

You kissed him to shut him up. He knew you so well. He paid attention to you in such detail, even when you didn’t think about it. You felt guilty for not telling him everything when he wanted to know. 

“Spencer. I love you so much.” You said, smiling. He looked into your eyes with a dazed look, the same look he always gave you each time you guys shared a deep kiss. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong, y/n.” He pleaded with you and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. “Please...” He brought his hand up to gently wipe it away with his thumb. 

“I’m really overworked, Spence. I can’t handle all of the responsibility everyone expects me to carry. I can’t do it all. I’m not like you, I’m not…” 

He pulled you into a tight hug as you felt sobs rack your body. You didn’t even know you had it in you to cry, especially not this hard. You didn’t know you had so much energy left in you. 

“Come on, y/n. We’re going to lay down and I’m going to hold you while you tell me about your projects. Then we’re going to create an action plan. But from now on, you have to make me a promise.” 

“What promise?”  You said, sniffling. 

“You have to promise me that you won’t hold everything in, not with me. In return, I promise to tell you more of what’s on my mind. But we can’t do this to each other when we have each other.” He said, looking in your eyes again. You nodded, quietly. 

“No more holding it in.” You agreed.

[slowly-writing]

Part Of the Family: Part 7

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1 Part 8

Word Count: 2541

“So, how do you like school so far?” you ask Wanda as you walk towards the parking lot.

“It was fine. I thought you were joking about the videos of your dad though,” she says and you groan.

“I wish I was.”

“Hey guys, you ready to head out?” MJ asks walking up to you and you smile.

“Yeah, lets go,” you say pulling out your key’s before pausing, “And I can only fit one of you on my bike. It’s only like a 5 minute drive, do you mind if I take two trips?” you ask and they both shrug.

“That's fine. I wanna grab a book from my locker anyway,” MJ says and you smile.

“You’re the best!” you say as you hand Wanda the helmet and hop on the bike.

“Are you sure you don’t need this?” she asks and you smile.

“I’m a super soldier. I’ll be fine,” you say before turning to MJ, “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.”

When you pull up to the tower Wanda climbs off and hands you the helmet. You strap it to the back of the bike before turning to her. “You can just wait here, when I get back I can show you the training room and stuff.”

You make it back to the school in record time and MJ is just walking out.

“Hey there, beautiful. Need a ride?” you ask and she rolls her eyes.

“Not with those lines I don’t,” she teases taking the helmet from you.

“I was trying something out, is that a no?” you ask and she kisses your cheek before pulling on the helmet.

“It was very cute,” she says as you blush, “I’m ready.”

You nod and pull out towards the tower. When you arrive Wanda is waiting right where you left her. You take the helmet from MJ and lead them towards the door.

“Everyone has a code for security or whatever,” you explain as you get to the keypad, “I’ll remind Tony to give you one at dinner.”

Wanda nods as the three of you make your way to the elevator.

“Hey mom!” you greet, walking into the common room.

“How’d you three get here?” she asks and you freeze.

“I drove them,” you answer and her eyes narrow.

“There’s three of you and I only see one helmet in your hand, y/n.”

“I took them in shifts?” you try but she doesn’t let up.

“That’s still two people with one helmet. So, who was riding without a helmet?” you glance at MJ and Wanda who look more scared than you feel.

“Are we even sure I need one? I’m going to reiterate dad jumping out of a plane without a parachute,” you say and your mom walks over to you with her palm open towards you.

“Keys.” she says and your jaw drops.

“Mom! That is so unfair!” you argue.

“Until you show me you’re responsible enough to be trusted, the bike is mine,” she says firmly and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t do that! It’s mine!” you yell and she raises an eyebrow.

“I seem to remember being the mother here, so I can do whatever I see fit, y/n” she says and it makes you so angry how calm she is. You just want her to yell. You want a reaction. So you say the one thing you know will get to her.

“Why should I listen to you, Natasha?” you grit out.

“Y/n-” MJ tries to stop you, putting a hand on your shoulder but you just shrug her off.

“You’re not my real mom!” you yell and her mask cracks.  You see a look of sadness flash across her face before she composes herself again.

“Give me the keys and go to your room,” she says and you glare.

“Whatever,” you slap the keys into her palm and drag MJ towards your room, slamming the door behind you.

“This is so unfair! She can’t just take my stuff whenever she wants!” you yell, pacing across the room. Logically you know the serum heightens your emotions but you aren’t thinking logically that right now. All you are thinking about is how angry you are.

“Hey, y/n, it’s okay. I’ll help you save up for another helmet. We can probably afford one already,” MJ tries.

“That’s not the point! You don’t get it!” you feel the anger bubbling up before you spin around to embed your fist into the wall. “Damn it!” you yell again as the plaster gives way so easily.

“Hey, calm down,” MJ says softly as she takes your other hand, gently leading you to your bed and pulling you to sit next to her, “explain it to me, then.”

“I didn’t have very much stuff when I was growing up, so I got really territorial over what I did have,” you  say with a sigh, “then I came here and I got more things. And I’m grateful for it! I really am it’s just...I don’t like it when people take my stuff ‘cause growing up they didn’t always give it back. It just stresses me out now, I guess.”

“Oh, y/n,” MJ pulls you into her arms, “she’s not taking it forever. I know getting in trouble sucks, but I promise you you’ll get your bike back.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say softly, “I need to apologize, but can we just sit here for a little bit? I need to calm down first.”

“Of course, how about I tell you about how Ned embarrassed himself in gym class today?” she asks pulling you to lay down next to her.

“That sounds good,” you rest her head on her shoulder as she begins talking.

xxxxx

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve says opening your bedroom door and MJ puts a finger to her lips with the arm not wrapped around you.

“She fell asleep a little while ago. She got a little worked up and I figured she could use the rest,” MJ whispers, gesturing to your sleeping form.

“Yeah, I remember those days. Dinner’s in 5, can you get her up?” Steve asks and MJ nods, “thank you for taking care of her.”

“Always,” MJ says and your dad nods to her before leaving. “Hey, y/n. Time to wake up.”

“Not yet,” you mumble, tightening your hold on MJ’s waist, causing her to chuckle.

“Come on, it’s dinner time and I know your stomach is a bottomless pit,” she teases and you smile.

“Whatever, if you had to do the training I have to do you’d be hungry too,” you tease back getting up and offering her your hand. You pull her up and walk to the kitchen hand in hand. You sigh in relief when you see Natasha is the only one there.

“Hey mom?” you say quietly and MJ squeezes your hand.

“Yes?” she asks, hiding her emotions behind the mask she’s perfect over the years.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just get so mad sometimes and I don’t like it when people take my stuff because-”

“You didn’t have very much,” she finishes for you and you nod.

“I’m gonna buy another helmet and I’ll be more responsible. You can keep the bike until you think I can handle it again,” you say and your mom walks over to you.

“Thank you for apologizing.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you say softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “Mom, I promise I didn’t mean it. You’re my mom and I love you and I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Natasha pulls you into her arms as you break down, “I know you didn’t mean it. I love you too, sweetheart.”

You hug her tightly before you feel her shift in discomfort.

“Oh god, I’m squeezing too tight,” you drop your arms and back away from her, “did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. You’re okay love,” she pulls you back into her arms and you relax slightly.

“I’m thinking you can have the bike back next week. Sound fair?” she asks and you nod. “Okay, let’s take a seat. Everyone should be here soon.”

As if on cue people start piling into the kitchen. You sit down and take MJ’s hand under the table she smiles at you and you relax a little bit more.

xxxxx

“Sorry about abandoning you earlier, Wanda. We can train after dinner if you want?” you offer and she smiles.

“That’s okay, you needed to calm down. And yes, that sounds nice,” she says and you nod.

“Um...speaking of calming down. I may have kinda, sorta punched a hole in my wall,” you say and everyone stares at you.

“Seriously, jr? Straight through the wall of my building?” Tony says and you wince.

“I just got really worked up and the wall was right there! I was feeling too many things and I just, I don’t know, lost it I guess. At least I didn’t punch like, another person or something!” you try to defend yourself and Bruce pipes up from across the table.

“I have been thinking about what the serum would do to teenage emotions. Teenagers have a heightened sensitivity to outside stimuli, and the serum has the same effect,” he begins and Tony jumps in.

“Y/n may benefit from a mood stabilizer of some sort,” Tony muses

“But we’d have to adjust the dosage to account for her genetics,” Bruce responds and you roll your eyes.

“This is how we’re all so close Wanda, everyone airs out each other’s shit in front of everybody.” You see your dad open his mouth and cut him off, “yeah, language, sorry.”

“I’m thinking those mood stabilizers might be necessary,” Clint cuts in and you roll your eyes again.

xxxxx

After dinner you all change clothes and head to the training room. When you get there you put an arm around MJ and pull her close. After the emotions of the day you need something to ground you a little bit. She wraps and arm around your waist and gives you a smile which you immediately return.

“Hey, is Wanda gonna show us what she can do? I still haven’t seen any proof she should be here,” you tease and she smirks at you.

She puts her arms out and looks at a punching bag across the room. You watch in awe as a red mist picks it up and sends it flying into the opposite wall where it breaks, spilling sand across the floor.

“Okay, next time I’m keeping the helmet,” you say and your mom raises an eyebrow, “but I’m getting another one tomorrow so it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, enough playing around, everyone get to work!” your dad calls.

“Yes sir Mr. Captain America sir!” you say with a salute and he shakes his head.

“Just go lift the damn weights, y/n.”

“Oooo language!” you yell and everyone laughs.

“You know I can ground you, right?” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“Mom already beat you to it.”

“I can take the bike away for another week,” he says and you nod.

“Shutting up now, got it,” you say walking to the weights. “Hey Wanda, can you spot me? Something tells me you can handle it,” you say adding weight to the bar. Wanda nods and MJ settles next to you opening her book. With that you all start your respective workouts.

xxxxx

You’re sitting criss cross in the middle of your bed a little while after MJ leaves when your dad knocks on the door frame, “hey, y/n. Can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you say with a quiet sigh. “I already know what you’re going to say. I’m a horrible daughter for saying what I said to mom and I don’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” he walks over and sits on the edge of your bed. “I’m not going to lie, you really hurt your mom, but that’s what teenagers do. I know how much you feel your emotions and I know how much you’re feeling that regret right now. It’s like everything you feel is going to tear you apart, and I can’t imagine what it must feel like going through all of that at sixteen.”

“It kinda sucks,” you say, looking at your hands in your lap before looking up at him. “Do you ever wish you could be normal? Just for one day. I want to be able to get angry without feeling like I’m going to explode. I want to be able to take a stupid high school gym class and complain about running the mile like the rest of my friends instead of having an extra study hall period becuase I’d kill somebody if I tried to play dodgeball. I want to be able to join a sports team. I want to have friends who don’t just like me because of who my parents are. I want to be able to hug my mom without hurting her,” your voice breaks and he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“I do. When I squeeze a bottle a little too tight and it breaks, or when I can’t go to the store without being stopped by people on the street, I just wish I could be normal. But then I think about everything being different has done for me. If I had kept on being that scrawny kid in Brooklyn I wouldn’t be here today. I never would have joined the Avengers, or met you. Being different has taken a lot away from both of us, but it’s also given us so much,” he says and you nod.

“I’m afraid she’s gonna be scared of me,” you whisper. “MJ, I’m too scared to be with her, because if I lose it even for just one second...next time it might not be a wall I put my fist through, and I can’t hurt her dad. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt her,” you sob and he pulls you into his arms.

“Here’s what you do,” he says as you calm down. “When you feel yourself getting worked up, you walk away. Not forever, but you take a minute. You step away and you catch your breath, you call me, or your mom, or her and you ground yourself. Then, when you’re ready, you go back and you have a conversation. I promise you she’ll understand, all of us will.”

“Do you think mom will ever forgive me?” you ask softly.

“It’s already done.” You look up and see her in your doorway, “we all say things we don’t mean sometimes. You should see some of the screaming matches I’ve had over the years. But, at the end of the day I know that we love each other, and I know that I’m your mom and a silly little fight about a motorcycle isn’t going to change that,” she says and you gently hug her.

“I really love you mom, and I’m really really sorry for what I said,” you say, burying your face in her shoulder.

“I know, sweetheart. And I love you too.”

Tag List: @rvgrsbrns

Series tag list: @hannahsairwave @niquey-salvatore @ibe-anne

[ijustwant2write]

A Free Spirit-Tommy Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @beautifulmultifandomfamily​)

Requested by @sylvanaiello​

Summary: ‘Hi ! I really love what you write, so much so that I'm French but I still read your writings in English because I love them! Could you write me a short story with dear Tommy Shelby? Like : the young woman is pregnant and with Tommy for years but she constantly challenges him to fend for herself, to go out or else ... and they argue. Sorry that's a bad description, but you're a fairy I know you'll make it great. (Sorry for my english!) much love XX’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of sex, fighting, threats, pregnant symptoms, shouting, swearing

(A/N: I can’t believe there are people out there, who don’t have English as their first language that read my work! So sorry for the long wait though x)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With all the strength in me, I used my entire body to push against the vault door, letting out a sigh of relief when it finally closed. Comically slapping my hands together, as if they were covered in dirt, I felt as if I wasn’t the only person in the shop. Of course, I knew who was standing there, I would be a terrible wife if I didn’t.

“Tommy, you’re here. Thought I was meeting you back home.” I smiled as I made my way over to him.

He didn’t look amused.“What did I tell you about getting involved with business?”

“What?” I kept a smug smile on my face, slithering my arms around his waist.

“The young lads were supposed to collect that debt money, not you.”

“Have you seen those boys? They’re still new to all of this, they would have pissed their pants if they had seen who answered the door.”

“Exactly. He could have hurt you.” 

Tommy’s arms finally wrapped around me, huffing at my actions from earlier. 

“Tom, I know what I’m doing.”

“But you don’t need to do it. Not anymore.”

“I don’t mind-”

“That’s not the point. You’re (Y/N) Shelby, everyone knows who you are, there is a target on your head.”

“There’s one on yours too.”

“I’m different.”

“How?”

“Remember when I kept pushing you away? Rejecting your advances when you would stumble about in the Garrison?”

“You make it sound like I was always drunk.”

“You were when I saw you.” 

“What point are you trying to make here?”

“I said no so many times because I knew I had already fallen for you. I didn’t want to put an innocent person in the firing line. Though I suppose it’s a little too late now.”

“Yes, it definitely is.” I held up my left hand, wiggling my fingers to show off the wedding band.“And I wouldn’t have approached you if I didn’t think I could handle the infamous Thomas Shelby.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

“Got you wrapped round my finger. Everyone knows it.”

I pulled away from him, walking away when I thought I was off the hook. However, he called out my name, and I refrained from slumping my shoulders, trying to not sigh at him. Turning around, I clasped my hands together, holding back a smile as he slowly walked towards me. Fuck, he was handsome.

“(Y/N), you’re not to do that again.”

“I’m not wanting to start an argument with you, I’m just going to ask a simple question. Why have you all of a sudden become so protective? More than usual?”

“We’re not getting any younger.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were to start a family, I need you safe, I want you safe.”

I was never one to be taken off guard, or to be speechless for long. But what he had said shocked me. I knew Tommy valued family, but I hadn’t thought about having a child in a while. For some reason, I felt that Tommy was too busy for that; perhaps having a child running around would cause more stress than happiness.

The corner of Tommy’s lip raised.“That shut you up.”

“I...I didn’t think....we haven’t spoken of that in so long.”

“I know. But I’ve heard you speaking with Ada.”

“You’ve been eavesdropping?”

“I’ve overheard your conversations at the right time.”

I rolled my eyes.“Tommy, you should have said something sooner.”

“You want this?” He wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me into his body.

“You already know the answer.” He kissed me quickly, but I pushed him away.“Ah, ah, I will not conceive my child in the betting shop.”

“And why not? This is what they’ll grow up with, might as well start here.”

“No. We have a huge house at home with many bedrooms that we can use.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

We had the most amazing sex that night (not that it was ever not amazing), but the passion was intense. We wanted a baby, we loved each other. At first, we knew that starting a family was risky, but anything we did was a risk, he was the leader of the Peaky Blinders; so what was the point of worrying and getting no where in life? It made him more determined, he had another surge to protect everyone. Maybe a baby would change his point of view. All I was certain of, he wasn’t complaining throughout the process.

As we had hoped and expected, I feel pregnant, assuming the news when I woke early one morning, dashing to the bathroom with my hand clamped over my mouth, trying to not throw up over the lush carpets. The doctor later confirmed this, as did Polly when she decided to unexpectedly grab my breasts. She stated I was pregnant, and I couldn’t lie to her, because one, she already knew, and two, why would I dare lie to her? 

“Oi, oi! I hear we’ve got another Blinder on the way in nine months!” Arthur exclaimed as Tommy and I entered the Garrison. I was thinking of keeping it a secret a while longer, though all of that was thrown out of the window. 

“Well, we were going to tell you later down the line, but I suppose the word has spread.” I smiled, welcoming his hug.

That night was full of celebration, and although almost every night in the Garrison was long and full of drunks, this had a different atmosphere. It was more joyous, there was a lighter feeling in the room, even Tommy broke out a small smile. All of this, all those months ago; it felt like only yesterday I had announced my pregnancy.

Now here I was, four months pregnant, and definitely feeling the side effects of pregnancy. My bump was on show, that’s how I liked it to be, it was at that point where my dresses strained against it if it was too tight. My hands were constantly resting on it, soothingly rubbing it in calming motions. I loved this feeling, I never wanted it to end, but at the same time, I wanted to have my child in my arms. It was a confusing emotion. Tommy was always around me too, normally I would go a day or so without even knowing where he was, but now he was beside me at all times. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on. He was paranoid before, but this was a whole new side of him I hadn’t seen.

It felt wrong, but I wasn’t going to obey Tommy’s every command. Yes, being pregnant obviously meant I had to be more careful than usual, but I wasn’t made of glass. Tommy always went on about how there were many threats to the Peaky Blinders, but I was always under threat, what was the difference now? I knew how to look after myself, I would never put my baby in danger. However, Tommy would never let it go, especially after the stunt I pulled in the Garrison.

The boys were supposed to be meeting with the rest of the family at the Garrison, though as usual they were late. Polly, Ada, Esme, Linda and I were sat in the private room, everyone else drinking but me. We were trying to engage in a conversation that didn’t involve any mention of God, though that was impossible with Linda there; to contradict this, Ada started arguing with her, using politics, and my head could take no more. Not wanting to snap at any of them, I excused myself, finding the rowdy bar more peaceful than the two bickering Shelby women. Sitting at the bar, I found myself talking to a few of the locals, until I spotted someone.

“William London? What are you doing in here? I remember my husband barring you, as well as threatening you if you ever came near this place.” I slowly slipped off the stool, holding onto my baby bump.

He rolled his eyes, beer spilling out of his drink as he waved it around.“I couldn’t give a shit. This is my local, I’ll drink where I like.”

“Your local is owned by my husband, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Are you really that stupid to waltz back in here?”

Tension was building, and although the noise was still raised, people were keeping their eyes on us. 

“Who are you to tell me anything? You’re a woman, you’re not in charge here.”

“Not officially.”

“Look, your days of being a rebel are over. You’ve married into a gang to make yourself look bigger and badder, but all it’s done to you is make you a little housewife.”

I scoffed a laugh.“You must be blind then sir. You obviously don’t know me.”

He stepped forwards, pointing to me with the cup of beer.“Yes I do.And I know whatever is growing inside of you is from the devil himself. Might as well save you the trouble.”

My hands instinctively covered my bump more as I backed away, the men I was previously speaking to jumping up to barricade me. William didn’t stop, and although he wasn’t being violent, the men grabbed him, forcing the man back.

“Does no one see how he has used you to continue his legacy?!”

“Will, you were kicked out for many reasons, one of them on account of how crazy you are. Glad to see nothing has changed.” I spat.

As William started to fight back, thrashing against their hold, things escalated quickly. Voices were raised, fists were thrown, and I was backed into a corner, forced to stand behind the bar as to not get hurt. Just when I thought that no one could stop this, the doors burst open, Tommy, Arthur and John stormed in, knowing that there was trouble. It immediately stopped, the man currently holding William using this chance to throw him to the floor. 

“William London, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Arthur snarled, hoisting him back up on his feet by the back of his collar.

Tommy’s steps broke the silence.“I told you to stay away. And do you remember what would happen if you came back?”

Nothing.

“Answer me.”

William kept his head low.“Y-you would cut my eyes.”

“I would cut your eyes, yes. Well, you broke that promise. It was a simple task, just go drink somewhere else. But you’re too much of an idiot to listen.”

He nodded to Arthur who nodded back, before dragging out a flailing William, John following after. No one was sure when to go back to their conversations, not wanting to risk offending the infamous Shelby. 

Tommy held his arms out, gesturing to everyone.“Well go on, back to your drinks. Enjoy your evening.”

As the noise level resumed, Tommy stared straight at me, and I knew that I was in trouble (though I hadn’t done anything wrong in my eyes). He walked out of the Garrison, wanting me to follow. Sighing, I stepped out from behind the bar, spotting Polly standing in the door frame of the private room. 

“You gonna be alright?” She asked, handing me my coat.

I slipped it on.“Yes. Just got to convince him that I’m not in the wrong.”

“Don’t put too much stress on the baby.”

“How can I not? I’m a fucking Shelby.”

Tommy was waiting outside. There was no sign of the other Shelby men, meaning they must have dragged William off to somewhere secluded. I was surprised when Tommy took my hand in his, starting to walk us to God knows where. I thought he would slump away, just wanting me to follow along. I didn’t ask anything, I didn’t even want to say anything. He was going to snap at me, for no reason, I didn’t want to start a fight. Surely he should have seen it as me respecting him and enforcing his rules?

We walked into the betting shop, Tommy not bothering to turn on the lights, until I did. Letting go of my hand, he ran his down his face, deeply sighing. I lowered myself into a chair, feeling the pressure lift off of my swollen feet. He noticed this, pausing his pacing and watching me.

“Before you say anything, I was not putting myself in danger. You walked in at the wrong time.” I started.

“I think I walked in at the right time. We’ve already pissed him off enough, what if William used you as revenge?”

“Revenge? Tom, that’s a bit dramatic isn’t it?”

“You saw him go berserk. He would have hurt you.”

“Yes, but I had people there to protect me.”

“They aren’t our men. They could have-”

“Tommy, they still fought him. Look, I’m sorry that I opened my mouth, but I can never stand it when people go against you. You’re a fucking Shelby, you banned him for a reason.”

“Yes, I understand that.” Tommy walked over to me, kneeling in front of me.“But you can’t be the same woman as before, not fully.”

“What? You’re telling me not to be myself.”

“I’m telling you to think before you speak. I’m not calling you stupid, or anything along those lines; but you must know that you’re an easier target now.”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“Yes. We both know you can defend yourself, but with our baby, you’re slower, you can be hurt easier.”

“Tom, I know-”

Tommy placed his hand gently on the bump.“I don’t think you do.”

“I’m not an idiot! I’m stuck with this every day! Our baby is growing inside me, how can I not think about it?! But I am not incapable.”

He groaned.“You’re not listening-”

“I’m not going to sit around and look after the baby all day-”

“(Y/N)!” He raised his voice before clearing his throat.“You’re too used to this life, but I don’t want you to be. I don’t want our child to be. You’re not an idiot so I don’t understand why you’ve put yourself in these situations?”

“I...I...” I put my hand over his.“I’m Thomas Shelby’s wife. I’m supposed to be this strong, powerful woman that stands by the leader of the Peaky Blinders. You said it yourself, I’m much more of a target like this, so what are people thinking?”

“I take it back, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Excuse you?” 

“Everyone still thinks of you as who you were before I got you pregnant. You said it yourself, those men in the Garrison stood to protect you, even though they weren’t employed by us.”

“I’m just not able to do the things I used to.”

“All women think that when they’re with child.”

“But it’s different for me.”

“You’re still stubborn, that’s not changed.”

It was hard to hold back the smile at his comment, and his laugh made me break.

“Tom, I feel useless.”

“You’re not useless. I know that as soon as that baby is out, you’ll be wanting to get back into business you shouldn’t be involved in.” 

“Maybe not as much after our baby is here.”

“Really? Not going to train our lad as soon as he takes his first breath?”

“Course I will. But we must wait for the student to become the master, he’ll take after his mother.”

“I don’t know if I can deal with two of you.”

I gently grabbed his chin.“You knew what you were getting into when I drunkingly proposed to you.”

“As did you when I told you to shut up and proposed to you.”

I guided his face towards mine, kissing him hard.“God we’re romantic.”

[orange-waterfalls]

Assistant

Darkiplier x male!reader

@just-bts-trash-00 ty for the request!

A/N: ok listen, I have zero clue how offices work or what assistants do. All I know is that lunch is at NOON. NOON is the time for lunch, I will fight you on this. Darkiplier not knowing how to handle feelings. We love an emotionally distant demon boi. Rated PG cuz 1 curse(that I'm aware of. I'm not reading it again cuz I'll want to change everything). Uh office romance yay. That's it. Enjoy.

Asks are open!

Word Count: 2.4k

--

You were the assistant of Darkiplier. The only reason you were his assistant was because nobody else wanted to be. When I say you were desperate for a job, you were desperate for a job. You had asked your friend, Bim Trimmer, if he knew about anyone who could give you a job. You figured, since he was famous, he might have connections.

He scratched the back of his head before saying "Well… there might be one guy… but I don't think you wanna work for him…". You then told him you would take literally anybody. The next day, you were introduced to Wilford Warfstache.

"Well, good morning!" He slurred a greeting to Bim. They hugged for a moment before Wilford saw you and gasped. "And who is this?"

"Wilford, this is Y/N L/N." Bim explained. "We were hoping you could give him a job." Wilford stroked his mustache thoughtfully before snapping his fingers.

"I know! You could be my assistant!" He grabbed your hands. You chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Oh, this'll be so fun! I've wanted an assistant ever since my last ones died!" Your smile dropped.

"Died?" You asked and turned to Bim. He rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses and groaned. You turned back to Wilford, who was still smiling at you. You retracted your hands.

"Yes, all my previous assistants have died." He said nonchalantly. "It's not my fault the gun went off." You began to worry.

You told Wilford that, respectfully, there was no goddamn way you were working for him. He said he understood and suggested a job as an assistant for one of his friends.

That's how you ended up working for Darkiplier.

When you first started at this new job of yours, he barely acknowledged your existence. You tried to tell him about his schedule and he wouldn't even bother sparing you a glance. Whenever he did pay attention to you, it was only to judge you. Your handwriting, your clothes, your voice…

After the first two weeks, you got sick of it. You planned a whole monologue on how you were going to tell him to respect you. You got as far as "you need to respect me" before he agreed to treat you better.

He wasn't as bad as he seemed.

He began to actually listen to you when you talked and took your advice about whatever you suggested. You could tell whenever he was stressed and made him a cup of tea, leaving it on his desk for when he came back. It was always warm because you timed almost everything perfectly.

You liked your job, but the man was still scary.

You took a deep breath in before entering Darkiplier's office. You held your clipboard close to your chest and walked up to his desk. He was reading a book, not paying much attention to anything else. You cleared your throat, making him look up at you.

"Problem, Mr. L/N?" He asked, voice echoing. You blinked before shaking your head and looking at your clipboard.

"Um, Mr. Warfstache called for a meeting." You informed him. You heard him groan, but kept talking. "He has an idea for a… club…"

"A club?"

"Yes… a dance club." The demon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And why does he want a club?"

"He's been banned from all of them."

"In the city?"

"In the country, sir." Darkiplier rubbed his temples and you frowned, beginning to worry. "Migraine, sir?"

"I'm fine, Y/N…" he sighed. You raised your eyebrows. He'd never called you by your first name before. He realized what he said and looked up at you. You smirked playfully.

"Um…" he cleared his throat. "Tell them… that I'll be down in a minute." You nodded and left the office. Darkiplier sighed and buried his face in his hands.

You were his assistant, and you were a good one. You helped him manage his time, you catered to the other egos so they'd leave him alone, and you knew how to calm him down. You made him happy.

That was a problem.

Darkiplier wasn't good with feelings. The only ones he knew how to portray were anger and indifference. All he knew was that something had happened to him when you started working for him.

Anytime he was around you, his heart started to race. His palms would sweat, he'd feel his face heat, and he felt a knot in his stomach. He honestly thought you were, somehow, killing him. He then asked Dr. Iplier what his problem was, and the man chuckled before saying Dark was in love.

In love?

He thought there was no way.

But then he saw you laugh at something Wilford said, and it started to make sense.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" He mumbled.

You were obviously scared of him, no matter how much you helped. He couldn't blame you. There was no way you'd like him. Besides, he was your boss and you were focused on your job. He didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage of you. He didn't want you to quit. He wouldn't survive. He couldn't tell you. He couldn't. Not yet, at least.

He'd figure it out.

--

Three months. Three months you'd been working there, and Darkiplier still hadn't gathered up the courage to confess to you. Everytime he decided he was going to, you were busy. Making a schedule, talking to another ego, making him tea…

He couldn't do it.

Everytime he tried to speak to you he just ended up telling you to do something for him. It was your job, technically, but he felt kind of bad. He was making you do menial tasks just because he was a coward.

But today. Today was the day. He would confess to you in the meeting room, before the meeting started.

He took a deep breath and walked into the room, seeing you already there. You were sitting in his chair, scribbling words down on your clipboard. He stared at your focused face, not wanting to bother you. He stood there like a weirdo for two minutes before you finally glanced up, seeing him. You looked back down before realizing he was there and jumping up out of the chair.

"Sir! Hi! Sorry, I figured you wouldn't mind if I sat here…" you rambled. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you, I-"

"It's alright, Mr. L/N." He reassured You sighed in relief and began to walk out the door. He gently grabbed your arm before you could leave, and you gave him a confused look.

He looked… frustrated. Angry about something. You frowned. Did something happen? Did you do something wrong?

"Y/N…" he began. You raised an eyebrow. He said your first name. He looked around, noticing the other egos beginning to enter. He had to say it right then and right there. "Y/N, I-" he was cut off by the fire alarm going off. Wilford burst into the room.

"Ok… so I may or may not have blown up the microwave…" he said guiltily. Dark let go of your arm with a growl and went to the lounge, while you and all the other egos went outside.

Dark sighed as he sprayed the fire extinguisher and Wilford hid behind him. He thought about you. You were right there. He was just about to tell you!

He would have other chances. He'd be fine. It'd be fine.

--

Darkiplier groaned as he laid his head on his desk. He wanted to confess. He did! He really, really did! But… he got nervous. You were just so handsome! Especially since you'd taken up a new hairstyle. You looked so… confident. And outgoing. And sexy!

He couldn't. He refused to.

That is until Wilford waltzed into his office and claimed, "If you don't ask out that strapping young lad, I will!"

Now he had to ask you out. He figured it was a joke, but he couldn't take any chances with Wilford. The interviewer would probably kill you.

So, he made a to-do list of everything he was going to do that day. He was going to confess to you during lunch. He wrote it down in a small notepad you gave him for Christmas. He sighed and looked at the list.

Convince Warfstache not to kill everyone who annoys him: Meeting, 10:00 a.m.

He looked at the time.

9:45

He took a deep breath and stood up. He might as well get there early. Not like he had anything better to do. He left the notepad open on his desk and went to the meeting room.

--

You walked out of the restroom and headed towards the lounge, shaking your hands of water as you walked. You knew he was in a meeting, so you went to make him some tea for when it was over. You knew how aggravated he could get.

You made him a cup of Chamomile tea and walked to his office. You entered the room and sat the tea on a coaster he kept. You looked around the room for a moment before deciding you should meet Dark at the door of the meeting room when it's over. You go to pick the tea back up, but something catches your eye.

The notepad you gave him was open, and the page was titled, "To Do List". You raised your eyebrows. He had things to do? You were going to have to implement them into his schedule.

You picked up the notepad and read through the list. It was normal, for the most part. Meeting, meditate, nap, lunch…

There was just one thing you didn't really understand.

What did he mean by "confess"?

At 11:59, right before lunch, it said to "confess to Y/N"

Firstly, it was 12:15, so he was late.

Second, what did that mean?

The first thing that popped into your head was that he was going to confess his love. But he doesn't like you like that… right?

Well… he did act a bit strange around you… and he was nicer to you than the other egos… and you could swear you saw his face turn bright pink one time…

And you did hear Wilford say something about if Dark didn't ask out "that strapping young lad", then he would…

And Wilford asked you out a week after.

Oh.

Oh God.

He liked you.

Darkiplier liked you!

How did you not notice this before? Were you really that oblivious? How long had he liked you? You had so many questions!

And then Darkiplier walked in the door.

He didn't notice you at first, but smiled a bit when he did.

"Good morning, Mr. L/N. How--" he stopped his greeting and froze when he saw his notepad in your hands.

You turned to him, a confused look on your face. He looked at you, slight worry and fear in his eyes, before he sighed and walked over to you. He took the notepad from your hands and sat it on his desk. He walked around the desk and sat in his chair.

"Sit," he gestured to the chair across from him. You plopped down.

"You…" you breathed out. He smiled sadly and looked down.

"Yes."

"You love me…"

"Yes, I do…"

"How long?"

"How long have you worked here?" You both chuckled. You shook your head.

"I don't believe it…" Darkiplier stood. You stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do.

"I understand if you would like to quit. I will give you a recommendation for your next job."

"Excuse me?" You asked. He blinked and looked up. You were no longer sitting, as you were resting your palms on his desk, leaning over it slightly. "Why would I quit? I love this job!"

"What?"

"Everyone's so nice! I have never been in such a wholesome work environment!" You gushed. Darkiplier looked at you, confusion evident on his pale face.

"But… I-"

"Yeah, you love me. But guess what, dude? I love you, too!" You blurt out. Dark was taken aback by your sudden confession.

"I thought you were focusing on your job…" he pointed out.

"Technically, you are my job," you smirked. Both of you stared at each other for a moment before laughing. Well, you laughed. Darkiplier just let out small chuckles.

He let his eyes trace over your face. You looked so happy. He loved to see you happy…

He set a hand on your cheek and you stopped laughing. He was cold, but you didn't care. Your smile fell as you watched him. He leaned over the desk, like you were, and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He gazed into your eyes and just stood there. Just appreciating the moment.

You let your eyes flutter closed, hoping he'd understand.

He did.

You felt cold lips on yours. It sent a shiver down your spine and gave you goosebumps, but you didn't pull away. You both tilted your heads for a better angle, and you deepened the kiss by running your fingers through his hair and keeping them tangled.

And then the moment was ruined by Wilford letting out a wolf-whistle. You quickly pulled away from Dark and dropped yourself back in the chair.

"Well, Dark, I didn't know you had it in you!" He laughed. Dark turned towards him and you saw the red and blue auras around his grow. You looked back and saw Google and Bim give some money to Dr. Iplier, both egos grumbling in annoyance. You flushed and turned back, hiding your face in your hands. Dark stalked towards the egos, a threatening gaze daring them to say something else. All of them were smart enough to run. Except for Wilford, who asked "Can I be your best man, Dark?"

You then heard a scream of terror from Wilford and him running out of the office. Dark removed your hands from your face, his aura still large, and kissed one of your palms.

"Be right back, handsome…" he said too softly for the anger in his eyes. You grinned at his messier-than-usual hair and nodded. He stormed out of the office.

"Wilford!" He bellowed. You snorted and shook your head as you got out your schedule. You looked at the time.

12:30

You missed lunch. You'd have to make room for some food…

Among other things…

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 309: Lost Light

Taiyang walked into the medical station, and found the five together under two blankets. The medic quickly ran up to him. "Sir?" he said, and Taiyang just glared at him, "I would advise against moving any of them... Do you know how much trouble it was to get them to stay still?"

"My daughters?.." Taiyang asked.

"The one on the left, along with her partner are simply exhausted." the medic stated, "Though I would still recommend against moving them. The younger one is... I really... don't know... what happened... but she doesn't seem to have any physical injuries."

"Just like her mother..." Taiyang voiced. "And the one on the right?"

"You... might want to sit down..." the medic said to him, and Taiyang did just that. He found a place to sit down, looking at them, though not too close. "If you are her father, you can answer a question I really need a solid answer to?" Taiyang just looked up at him. "Can she regenerate?" Taiyang slowly nodded, and the medic breathed a great sigh of relief. "I... did... the right thing... Her Aura is controlling her injuries... but... that doesn't seem to be the real problem..."

"She can't handle it?," Taiyang asked, "can she?" and the medic shook his head. "And the guy in the middle?"

"Broken antlers. His friends claim he can regenerate them pretty quickly with enough food and rest. He's also suffering from exhaustion, dehydration, and various minor injuries. I just got them all to stand still... and he wouldn't... unless they were all together."

"His... friends... said?.." Taiyang asked.

"He was the hardest to get to sit still." the medic stated, "He wouldn't do anything for himself... or.. even say anything about himself... until he was satisfied... He... apparently... had a bit of a shouting match with the family of one of their team mates when they came to claim her."

"Where's Blake?" Taiyang asked.

"Was she the... black haired girl?.." the medic asked, and Taiyang nodded. "She... um... disappeared... She apparently used her Semblance, which is... like a shadow copy of herself and something... She had minor injuries and diminished Aura, but... I don't think the physical injuries were the issue."

Taiyang looked down for a moment before looking up at him. "What... can I do?.."

"Be here when they wake up... maybe... help me get them some hot food for when they wake up... I will remind you that the physical injuries are not necessarily the deepest ones."

Taiyang brought his hands to his face as he cried. He had plenty of time before he had to try and act like he was together.

* * *

Yang started to rouse, and look about. Ruby was next to her, but that obviously wasn't just it. Beyond her was Jaune, and beyond him Ren and Nora. She turned her head to see Jaune's armour behind him. She turned her head back to look at her father with a lost expression.

"My Summer Dragon..." he voiced, and she just stared at him a moment before looking around once again. Whoever or whatever she was looking for, she couldn't find it. "I'm here for you, sweetie." Taiyang said to her, and she slowly blinked in reply. "I'll... I'll... get you guys something to eat..." he said, and turned to walk away. This left Yang nothing to do but stare into space.

* * *

Ren was the next to revive, and as he slowly moved to look around found Nora rousing beside him. He looked around to see a man approaching who looks kind of like Yang. "Mr. Xiao Long, I presume?" he asked.

"That's... that's me..." Taiyang replied, "You're a friend of my daughters?"

"I certainly hope so." Nora added. "So, you're um, both of their fathers, because, I mean, it looks like..." she said, and paused, "I'm going to shut up now..."

"Indeed." Ren stated.

Taiyang them brought them up bowls of food, and handed it to them. "Do you two know what happened?"

"Oh, it was crazy." Nora stated. "There was Grimm EVERYWHERE, and explosions, and this weird guy with a tophat, and Jaune and Pyrrha ran off... and only one came back... and a Dragon!.. and... then the robots started attacking people..."

Taiyang looked at Ren, "From my daughters' letters, this is where you would correct her..."

"Oh?" Ren asked, "This time I can attest to everything she's said."

"Ha!" Nora shouted, "Even I can be right, sometimes."

"I would like to know what happened to the Dragon?" Ren asked, and Jaune finally seemed to rouse.

"And you must be Jaune?" Taiyang asked, and Jaune quickly looked around. His lack of antlers ruined his balance and he nearly toppled over. He was saved by Ren quickly bracing him.

"If I have to be..." Jaune voiced.

Taiyang handed him a bowl. "It sounds like you did everything you could to protect my daughters..."

"And what a complete failure that was..." Jaune voiced. "Your brother, I think, was the one who grabbed Ruby. He wanted me to say something to you, but I can't for the life of me remember..."

"You're awfully chipper for someone who's been through hell." Taiyang voiced.

"Yeah, well, I'm still too stressed about everything to be relaxing." Jaune voiced.

"Our Leader would go to the end of Remnant," Nora stated, "For us... or RWBY..."

"Do?.." Jaune asked, "Do you know what happened with her?.."

"I do." Taiyang affirmed.

"Care to uh... share it?.." Jaune asked.

"In due time. For the time being we need to get you students someplace safe."

"My family's outside of Vale..." Jaune voiced, "and they..." he said, and looked at his remaining teammates.

"You can all come to Patch." Taiyang stated. "It's... the least I could do." Yang looked over with a lost look. "And we can talk there..." he added.

"That sounds..." Ren stated, "entirely reasonable..."

"Really good cook, too." Nora stated as she slurped her noodles.

"I... guess... we... don't have anything else... to lose..." Jaune stated. "What... about the school?" he asked.

"Glynda and the Masters can take care of it." Taiyang stated. "They'll tell me when they get it back up and running again."

"I guess..." Jaune sighed, "that answers all of my questions..." He then turned to look at Yang, "Yang?" he asked, and she turned to look at him... looking in his direction without really focusing.

"How's your team doing?" Taiyang asked, and Jauned looked over the five together under the blankets.

"Two teams." he replied. Two teams of four... and they only had five with them...

Ruby started to rouse, and found herself snuggling up to something large and warm and enveloping...

"Morning." Jaune said to her, she quickly lifted her head up and eagerly looked in his eyes. Her tail began wagging under the blanket, brushing up and down against Yang's legs. Yang let out a brief giggle, but when everyone looked at her they saw her distant, dispondant, crestfallen self.

"What happend to?.." Ruby asked, and found Jaune's shoulder wrapping around her.

Taiyang coughed, and she looked over at her father. "Hi, Dad." she stated.

"Ruby..." Taiyang voiced. "Your sister... went through something... quite traumatic."

"What?.." Ruby asked, "What?.."

"We... need to support her..." Taiyang stated, and Ruby silently nodded. "Now, why don't you tell me what kind of relationship you have with?.."

"What, Jaune?" Ruby eagerly asked, "He's like wicked cool... except for the first day... but he talked to me... while I was babbling... and..." she paused as Yang let out another giggle.

"If you girls... and guys... are ready, we can take you back to Patch..." Taiyang stated.

Jaune looked around for a moment, before looking Taiyang in the eyes. "What, all of us?"

"Until... you decide what to do... you'll need a place to stay..." Taiyang stated. "Whatever you mean to my daughters, you obviously care about them, obviously want to protect them, are important to them, and from their messages... you guys don't have anywhere else to go, do you?"

Jaune shyly looked down.

"WE! -" Nora shouted, "GET - TO HAVE - A SLEEP OVER!"

"Wait?!" Ruby asked, "A sleep over?! Like... me having a sleep over... not Yang having one with me watching from the..."

"Yes." Taiyang said with a tired smile.

Ruby literally shook with excitement. She pulled the blanket off herself and stood up, holding her hand out to Yang. Yang, in turn, just laid there, trying not to look anyone in the eyes. Jaune stood up and stretched, and began putting on his armour. Nora and Ren quickly joining him. Once Jaune was in his armour, he walked over to Yang, picked her up, and kissed on the side of her head. Yang did her best to not react.

"Where's Blake and Weiss?" Ruby asked.

"Weiss' sister came to pick her up..." Jaune stated.

"She's very Weissy." Ruby added, "Even more Weissy than Weiss."

"She did NOT want to go with her." Nora stated, "You should have heard Jaune shouting at her."

"At Weiss?" Ruby asked.

"Her sister." Jaune stated.

"That makes more sense..." Ruby voiced. "And Blake?"

"She disappeared." Ren stated.

"She's... afraid of something..." Jaune stated, "someone..."

"Who?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know..." Jaune added, "but so afraid she had to run away... I... I tried to... She's so afraid..."

"Easy there, big guy." Nora stated.

"And Pyrrha?" Taiyang asked. In reply Ruby and Jaune started crying. Soon enough Yang joined them.

* * *

Notes: Tai picked up the remaining piece of Ember Celica.

[fandomfanfics12]

Home Lives With You-Part 5

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 5/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: Again this is kind of long lol, hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest as they made their way to the living room. It had to be the hospital bill, that’s what had done this. he should’ve been better at concealing his wounds, he’d let his guard down in that moment with Tony and Steve. He was having a panic attack and they had been comforting him and he’d let his guard down. Dammit. How was it that Peter could get himself kicked out of the first good home that he was sent to? How had he been such an idiot? Tony sat down on the couch, Steve beside him and they both stared at him.

“sit down Pete.” Tony said and Peter did so slowly, his palms growing sweaty. As selfish as it was, Peter wondered if he’d at least be able to keep the elephant that Morgan had given him, but he knew how unlikely that was. It would go back to their precious and perfect daughter and Peter would go back to the Thompson’s basement, and the world would go back to normal.

“I’m so sorry about the hospital bill, I promise I’ll pay you back.” Please don’t kick me out. Peter put the elephant beside him and sat down on his hands so they wouldn’t see him shaking, wouldn’t show them how much he’d loved it here. How much he’d thought they had maybe potentially cared.

“this isn’t about the bill and I don’t want you to worry about that.” Tony began to dig through his pockets and Peter looked down at the floor, heart hammering inside his chest. But we are going to be sending you back, you’re just too much trouble. we don’t want our perfect daughter exposed to your freakishness. We don’t want her to see such violence at such a young age, maybe we could visit sometime. But they wouldn’t visit, old fosters never do. They just leave the kid to rot, hoping the next family can straighten the child out. Peter thought he was used to this conversation, used to people telling him that they didn’t want him anymore, but he could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he waited for the words.

“What is this?” Peter raised his hand and inhaled sharply to see the tiny lump of soap he’d gotten from school. He’d go to the school nurse once every couple of weeks to get a bar of soap for his “friend”. The nurse most definitely new that there was no friend but knew better than to push for more information.

“Soap sir.” Peter swallowed, the room was starting to spin and he wanted to disappear. He just wanted this part over, wanted to go back upstairs and pretend to pack up his things and then be back at Rhodey’s office. He didn’t want to be here in this moment any more.

“This is dollar store soap.” Tony said and Peter nodded, it wasn’t like the school bought fancy soap that they just gave out to students for free.

“it’s my soap sir.” Peter said and tony rose an unimpressed brow.

“why didn’t you use the bar of soap that was already in the shower?” Peter had seen it and had been tempted, but knew better than to use their things.

“Because that’s your soap sir.” He said and they shared a look.

“did you bring this from the Thompson’s?” Steve asked and Peter nodded, looking away at a picture on the wall. They were at the beach, Morgan on Steve’s shoulders and Tony making a silly face at her. Someone else must have taken the photo.

“It wasn’t their soap sir.” Peter said defensively, he hadn’t stolen anything from them. Hadn’t dared.

“Then where did you get it?”

“School nurse sir.” Peter’s fear was turning into anger, his defence mechanisms kicking in.

“alright well from here on out I want you to use our soap, okay?” Peter’s head whipped towards them and his heart leapt up into his throat.

“you’re not kicking me out?” his voice wobbled and both of their faces softened, relief was washing through Peter.

“of course not, why would you even think that?” Steve asked and Peter let his eyes fall shut.

“I thought with the hospital bills and seeing what I looked like, maybe you wouldn’t want someone like me around Morgan.” Peter admitted and heard one of them inhale sharply.

-

This kid was going to break Tony Stark-Rogers’ heart. Hearing the crack in his voice, seeing the way his eyes had darted around the room and knowing he’d thought they were going to kick him out through this whole conversation broke Tony’s heart. He took Steve’s hand and squeezed, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Peter we are here for you and we are going to support you. you haven’t scared us away if that’s what you’re worried about.” Tony said and he opened his eyes, tears welled up.

“Really?” Steve and Tony moved in one swift motion to his side, wrapping their arms around him, Tony rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere. I spoke to Rhodey yesterday while you were sleeping and I asked him if we could extend your stay.” At that, Peter stilled in their arms.

“What?”

“You’re going to stay with us for three months, if that’s alright with you?” Peter nodded and joy rushed through the three of them.

“I’d love that sir.” Peter whispered. Tony and Steve squeezed him a little tighter and Peter relaxed in their embrace.

“Great, now why don’t you go upstairs and get changed into some clean clothes and I’ll reheat some dinner while Steve does the washing.” Tony said, pulling back and Peter nodded. They helped him up off of the couch and then Tony made his way to the kitchen. he watched as Peter walked passed, his gangly and too-thin limbs. He wondered how often the kid had gotten a full meal if he had to get soap from the school. Tony made a mental note to put more food on Peter’s plate, just to be safe.

-

Peter dumped three of his four outfits into the washing basket Steve held in his hands.

“You were wearing that on Thursday, why don’t you change into something else?” Steve asked and Peter looked away, shit.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Steve asked, worry in his voice. He began to ask Peter questions, about whether that had something to do with his injuries but Peter cut him off.

“This is all I have Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter admitted at long last and Steve fell silent for a moment.

“You’ve dumped like three shirts in here.”

“I only have four shirts and two pairs of jeans.” Peter said and Steve’s hands tightened on the basket.

“Oh, okay. Well we can take you shopping for new clothes tomorrow.” Steve’s voice was a notch too high but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t afford new clothes Mr Stark-Rogers.”

“That’s alright, we can pay.” And Steve walked back downstairs before Peter could argue with him. Peter stayed there for a long moment and took a few deep breaths, this family was too nice, too good to be true. They want to keep me. the thought was startling, he didn’t quite believe it. the idea that Steve and Tony could want Peter around was insane. But they had extended his stay, and that meant more to Peter than he’d ever be able to explain.

-

“Tony he needs new clothes.” Tony’s brain was too distracted by Steve, hair perfectly tousled and washing basket propped on his hip. There was a light stubble from too many days gone by without shaving that Tony was finding irresistibly attractive.

“What?” Tony asked and Steve rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at his lip.

“Peter needs new clothes. He has four t-shirts which are practically held together by a single thread.” Steve put the basket down on the kitchen counter to lift up one of Peter’s shirts and it did look extremely rumpled and worn.

“stop drooling for a minute.” Steve told him, Tony scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Steve rose a brow and Tony sighed, stepping closer and reaching out to touch the material. It was rough, old and scratchy.

“I had planned for a shopping trip this weekend but we were a little busy.” Tony said and Steve nodded, silence filling the space between them. Then there were footsteps coming down the stairs, too heavy to be Morgan’s. Tony handed Steve back the shirt and Steve carried the dirty washing away before Peter entered the room. He offered Tony the smallest of smiles and slid onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

“how are you feeling?” Tony asked and Peter scratched the back of his head.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” Peter asked and it took all of Tony’s might not to last.

“We’re not in the military Peter, of course you can.” Peter nodded, staring down at his hands.

“Tired, hungry and a little stressed.”

“Why stressed?” Tony asked, leaning on the island across from him and Peter looked back up to meet Tony’s eyes.

“I’ve got a lot of homework and I haven’t started any of it and I’m already so far behind in all of my classes because there wasn’t many opportunities to study back at the Thompson’s and-“ Tony reached out and placed his hand over the top of Peter’s, offering him a gentle smile.

“It’s alright Peter, I’ll help you out.” Tony said and Peter’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Tony nodded, hoping that it wasn’t English.

“of course, what subject do you need help with the most right now?” Peter scratched the back of his head, the nerves practically radiated from him.

“Chemistry.” Relief flooded through Tony’s veins. Thank god.

“chemistry is like a second language, why don’t you get your homework after dinner and we can work through some of it tonight?” Tony asked softly and Peter beamed at him.

“Thank you Mr Stark-Rogers.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper. Tony grinned, he had finally upgraded from sir. The oven dinged and Tony turned around, ready to dish up the meal and spend some quality time with Peter.

-

When Peter woke up the sun was shining through the window and his body was sore. He was curled up on the floor, ribs throbbing and Steve’s face just above his own.

“Pete why are you on the floor?” Steve asked and Peter blinked several times, wishing his vision would clear.

“the bed is yours.” Peter mumbled, sitting up and rolling his shoulders.

“actually me bed is in my room with Tony, this bed is yours.” Peter’s heart leapt up into his throat and his head spun towards Steve.

“really?”

“Yeah Pete.” Steve chuckled and helped Peter up to his feet. He walked over to his phone which was only on twelve percent, the screen was cracked and it was so outdated that the phone had actual buttons. 10:13 was what the time read and Peter’s eyes widened.

“um Mr Stark Rogers?” Peter turned back to Steve who was frowning at Peter’s phone.

“Yeah?”

“is the clock wrong or is it really ten-thirteen?” Peter asked nervously and Steve scratched the back of his head.

“I hope we didn’t overstep our boundaries, but Tony and I thought you could use a day off given the weekend you had.” Peter blinked, a day off?

“oh, what chores do you want me to do today?” Peter asked, Steve shook his head.

“no chores Pete, we’re taking you shopping.” Steve said and Peter tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tony called in sick to work and I don’t have class on Monday’s, even Morgan’s being fake-sick today. We’re going to take you out and get you some proper clothes and some stuff for this room and,” Steve gave a pointed look at his phone. “a real phone that you can use.”

“I have no money, I can’t accept yours either.” Steve shrugged.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs, we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.” Steve said and then exited the room, leaving Peter in nothing more than a stunned silence. He wasted no time going downstairs, Tony had made pancakes and had drenched them in maple syrup and whipped cream. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight of the large stack and he slowly sat down on the stool, glancing at Tony who watched him as he drank for his coffee cup.

“are you waiting for a countdown or something kid?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head, picking up the knife and fork and digging in to his breakfast. The food was delicious and Peter actually moaned upon his first taste of it. he could feel Tony’s eyes on him, observing him closely but Peter didn’t think about it too hard. Here he was, being offered up actual food and it tasted good. Divinely sweet and insanely mouth-watering. Peter devoured the meal, savouring every last drop and ensuring that there was not even a crumb left on the plate.

“Alright Peter go put some shoes on.” Tony said and Peter nodded. He ran back upstairs and grabbed his four dollar shoes that had come from target and slipped his feet into them. He rushed back downstairs where the Stark-Rogers were waiting for him.

“All set? Good.” They made their way outside, Tony locked the front door and then got into the car where Steve drove the four of them to the mall. Once they were all out of the car, Steve locked it and took hold of Morgan’s hand and they began to make their way inside.

“Shouldn’t I be at school, or you guys at work? We really could just do this another day.” Peter said even though they were already there.

“Nope, this can not wait any longer.” They led Peter to a store full of tech and Peter eyed the heft prices nervously.

“what are we doing here?” he whispered to Tony who just raised a brow.

“which kind of phone do you want?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head.

“I already have a phone sir.”

“Steve described it as something that belonged to a really old grandma.” Tony told him and Peter looked down at the floor.

“So? It still works.” Peter said defiantly but that didn’t seem to matter, because a salesperson was talking to Steve and Steve was telling him that he wanted to get Peter a phone.

“I have the perfect phone, and we got it in a new special edition too.” The man disappeared and then returned with a small box. When he opened it up he pulled out a phone that had a sleek and smooth black screen. But when he turned it over Peter’s brows rose. The smooth back of the phone was red at the top but slowly turned into blue as Peter’s eyes moved down.

“We’ll take it.” Tony said and Peter’s head whipped towards him.

“No sir please! It’s bad enough that you’re losing money because you took the day off, this is way too much!” Peter insisted but it fell on deaf ears as Steve walked away to go fill out the paperwork. Tony was smiling softly, Morgan looked bored but Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest. This was way too much, he’d never be able to pay them back for this.

“Peter it’s fine. Steve and I wouldn’t pay for it if we weren’t okay with it.” Tony pulled out his own phone which was a similar model to the one that he was buying Peter and showed Peter a long list. The first item on the list had a little tick next to it. get Peter a new phone. Before Peter could protest anymore Steve was back, bag in hand and grinning.

“where to next?”

“Well we need to get him some clothes.”

-

Peter stood in the dressing room wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, a white soft t-shirt and a blue flannel.

“Pete?” Tony asked and Peter opened up the door, Tony grinned and nodded, the basket full of clothes that he’d already insisted on buying and hands full with even more clothes to try on.

“Awesome, we’re getting that too.” Peter shook his head, he really couldn’t accept all of this.

“Mr Stark Rogers we have more than enough.” Peter said because he knew that there was no way he’d be able to talk Tony out of buying the clothes already in the basket. It had taken Peter a while to get into the swing of things when shopping for clothes. He wasn’t sure what he liked or what he looked good in, and had needed to explain to Tony that he had just received the clothes that Flash hadn’t wanted anymore. Tony had already placed an entire wardrobe’s worth of summer clothes in the basket, and now insisted that Peter try on some things for winter time.

“but what about when it gets cold?” Tony asked and Peter glanced at himself in the mirror. His skin looked yellow in this lighting.

“then we can go shopping again, if I’m still around.” Tony froze but nodded. Despite himself, Peter’s heart sank. Just because they’d asked for an extension didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like they were going to adopt him.

“alright we’ll get you some winter clothes later, but we’re buying that outfit you’re in.” Peter nodded and shut the door so he could change back into regular clothes. He had been trying on different outfits for over an hour ad was glad that it was finally over.

“Hey Pete what’s your shoe size?” Tony asked as Peter tugged on a shirt.

“why?”

“Well you can’t keep walking around in those shoes.” Tony said through the door and peter’s eyes darted down to his feet, shoes were expensive though.

“it’s fine.”

“shoe size.” Tony said impatiently and Peter bit his lip. He wanted to let Steve and Tony buy all these things for him, wanted it so badly. But Peter wasn’t there son and he’d done nothing to deserve all this.

“It’s honestly fine Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter said and Tony knocked.

“What’s going through your head kid? We aren’t the Thompson’s and we aren’t going to neglect you. you may think all of this is frivolous or unnecessary but it’s not.” Peter nodded, still not quite believing him.

“11.” Peter said after a long while, finally caving to Tony.

“Great.”

-

Morgan had been an absolute angel. Steve had been nervous to bring her along shopping today but she loved helping Peter. Steve had told her that Bucky would be coming over on Saturday for dinner and she’d perked up again once she’d started getting bored of clothes shopping. They were now in Target, trying to find some decorations for Peter’s room. Steve was mostly sticking to neutral tones, he wasn’t exactly sure of what colours Peter liked and Steve was going to suggest that they repaint that room. Unless Peter liked the cream colour that it already was. Steve stared down at the clock, lamps and bedding stuff. Steve had grabbed a couple new pillows, a throw blanket and two different duvet covers that he’d thought Peter might like.

“I’m hungry.” Morgan whined as they waited in line.

“Why don’t we get some doughnuts when we’re done here?” Steve asked her and she gave him a big toothy grin.

“Really? Yay!” she clapped and stomped her feet on the ground in excitement. Steve chuckled at her small antics and soon enough he was handing over his card to pay for Peter’s things.

“you know dad, if we got a doughnut machine we could make doughnuts all the time!” she pointed to one in the shop that was on display and Steve shook his head.

“Maybe another time sweetie.” Steve made a mental note to bring it up to Tony for Morgan’s birthday. They always had an ever-growing list for things like birthdays and Christmases. They’d need to make one for Peter now too. They made their way over to the little doughnut shop and Steve kept an eye out for Tony. He’s not going to be happy that we’re doing this. But Tony was nowhere in sight.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan nodded her head.

-

Tony spotted his tall, blonde and gorgeous husband across the walkway, and it took Tony a moment to understand where Morgan and Steve were going exactly.

“This one seems nice.” Peter said after inspecting the shampoo bottle that Tony had just handed him.

“We’ll come back. Peter you push the trolley.” Peter put the bottle down and followed Tony out of the store, they made their way over to the doughnut shop.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan started to eagerly nod her head.

“Steven Grant Stark Rogers are you buying doughnuts without me?” Steve and Morgan spun, eyes wide and mouths agape and then Steve’s face morphed into a smirk.

“maybe.” Tony crossed his arms and shook his head.

“doughnuts?” Peter asked and the three of them turned to him, his brows furrowed.

“You’ve had a doughnut before, right Pete?” Steve asked and Peter bit his lip.

“No?” Tony gasped extra dramatically, Morgan covered her mouth as if she were going to scream and Steve just rose his brows.

“We’re getting a box Steve.” Tony said and marched up to the counted to order it. he could feel the eyes of his family watching him and Tony couldn’t contain the smile as he ordered the doughnuts. While Peter was still on edge, he’d most definitely relaxed today. Calming down ever so slightly as the day had progressed, resisting a little less each time Tony suggested something for him. Tony was glad he’d taken the day off work to spend this time with Peter, even if Hammer would taunt him about it for the rest of the week.

-

Doughnuts were officially Peter’s new favourite food. Tony had gotten a variety of flavours but overall, the plain glazed doughnuts were his favourite. He was still stunned by the amount of things that Steve and Tony had bought him, no one had ever done anything like this for Peter before and if he thought about it for too long he would become overwhelmed.

“Peter we were thinking that you’d like to repaint your room, so what colour would you like?” Steve asked as the four of them made their way back to the car. Peter inhaled sharply but shook his head, he couldn’t accept anything more from them.

“I like the colour that it already is.” Peter lied, it wasn’t that the cream was ugly, it just wasn’t what he would have picked for a bedroom.

“liar.” Tony teased and Peter managed a small smile.

“thank you for all that you guys have done, it’s more than I could ever thank you for.” Peter said as they reached the car. He really didn’t have a clue as to how he’d repay them, maybe one day he could come back once he had a job and give them a big fat cheque to make up for all of this. because there was no way they were keeping him, thoughts like that were just too good to be true.

@smallnjh @picklepotatoe14 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine @meyamoadriytu​