#i don’t want her gentle little suggestions of helping out money wise to be couched in fucking. duty or responsibility to them as my parents

[chanagun]

Soft Hearts Electric Souls

Fandom: Why R U the Series Pairing: Saifah/Zon

Summary:

The first time Zon ended up in the cramped tattoo parlor, it was because of his friends' oh-so-clever dare to get something pierced. The rest of his visits definitely didn’t have anything to do with the (handsome) piercing artist.

AO3 

——

Saifah actually heard the group before seeing them. 

Day was on desk duty for the hour, so Saifah had been upstairs, going back and forth between chairs and doing his best to crack jokes and distract the clients as Tutor and Hwahwa created artwork on their skin. 

Tutor had a regular client, adding another chunk to his growing sleeve and Hwahwa worked on a walk-in, her classic script stretching across the client’s collarbone. Saifah loved watching his friends in their element. 

Which was disrupted, as mentioned, by the sound of the chime on the door followed by what sounded like fifteen dudes all laughing and talking over each other. Saifah frowned slightly before excusing himself from Tutor’s booth to help Day with the assumed influx of customers. 

Their shop was an odd set up, being in a row of other squeezed-together buildings in a busy college town. Patrons were greeted immediately in the waiting room with pieces of tattered furniture they haven’t had the heart to replace and the reception desk against the stairs. The piercing station was a back office they gutted and converted. They didn't have a second floor as much as they had a loft that they macgyvered into the sterile tattoo booths, so everything was quite open; it wasn’t ideal but it was theirs. They put a lot of work into it and it was definitely a source of pride. 

The openness of their shop also helped with gaging the customers from afar.

To his surprise, as he walked down the wooden stairs, he found that the bold entrance noise came from only five men. All of them looked up expectantly at him as he heard Day explain that Saifah was their piercer while pointing up at him. 

Four of the guys looked at him with shit-eating grins and one looked at him with absolute terror. Saifah knew how he looked outwardly; he had a dozen holes in his ears and a few in his face and he had tattoos peeking out from everywhere his shirt didn’t quite reach. His favorite, a painted bat with wings outstretched ( Kerivoula picta , Tutor would remind him after spending diligent hours on it) decorated his neck with a shocking burst of color and a sharp snarl at anyone shorter than him. Saifah watched the one man visibly gulp when he finally joined Day at the counter and he couldn’t help the half smile form on his lips.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Saifah started, “I heard my services were needed?” The one man was not looking him in the eye, but instead directly at his throat. Saifah couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like he was shaking in his metaphorical boots. 

One of his friends slapped his shoulder, making him jump a mile, before saying “Our Zon here would like to get his ears pierced!” 

“Oi, Junior-“ the guy, Zon, snapped as he elbowed his friend in the gut. 

“Yeah, he looks super excited to do that,” Saifah replied easily.

“I am!” Zon quipped adamantly.

Saifah knew he was being a prick, but couldn’t help it as he raised an eyebrow and let out an unimpressed chuckle. “Sure. Anyone else getting stabbed today?” He asked the rest of the guys in the same cocky tone and received negative murmurs in response. “Righto, come on back Mr. Zon and I’ll set everything up.” To which he received a tight nod from Zon and stifled laughter from the rest. 

Saifah motioned Zon to follow him to his station but paused when the whole hoard of men started coming too. “Ah, the love fest is really cute but the room is not that big, guys,” Saifah explained.

“I can come by myself,” Zon said, and sent a sharp glare at each of his friends, “they just want to see me suffer anyway.” Saifah let out a chuckle, and continued to the back, now only being followed by one. Saifah motioned to the cushioned stool in the middle of the room and Zon sat obediently. 

“First things first Mr. Zon, we have to get some paperwork done,” Saifah explained, grabbing one of the clipboards, “and I hope you have your ID on you or else this’ll be pretty embarrassing.” 

“Of course I have my ID,” Zon huffed in response before pulling out his wallet. Saifah let Zon hold it up to his face as he recorded his necessary details on the paper.

“Alright, so you gotta read all these bullet points and initial each line on the left here,” Saifah told him, turning the clipboard around and handing him the pen, “let me know if you have any questions, but I’m going to get the station ready.” 

“This is a lot more … official than I thought,” Zon mumbed, making Saifah pause.

“It is surprising to some people that we are a legitimate business,” Saifah replied even though Hwahwa’s voice nagged in this head about not being so sarcastic with customers. Saifah risked a glance at the guy.

He was frowning, sitting the paperwork with his initials before saying, “That’s not what I meant, I just didn’t actually know what to expect.” He held out the clipboard to hand back to Saifah. 

He took it, but kept a strong gaze on Zon. “Why are you here, dude? You don’t seem well-informed, nor excited to be getting this done.” 

Zon cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My friends dared me. I don’t want to seem weak or anything,” he explained in a huff. 

Saifah considered his words. He placed the clipboard back down and pulled up his own stool to sit right in front of Zon. The action seemed to unsettle Zon more, but that didn’t deter Saifah. “Are you sure you actually want to? Listen, the basis of this business is all ‘fight the man, rebell, mod your bod’ and everything but it’s about living for yourself, too. You think my parents wanted me to open a tattoo shop with my hooligan friends?” Zon laughed lightly at his statement, “I can scare your friends off if you really don’t want this, man. I’ve heard I’m intimidating.” 

Zon cocked his head to the side, a smile still faint on his lips. “Nah, you’re just tall,” he joked, “Clearly you’re a softie or else you would have just stabbed me and taken my money.” Saifah snorted at that. “And I… I still want the piercings. Not for my friends’ benefit, I’ve just actually wanted to get them for a while. Needles aren’t really my favorite thing but they look cool.”

“I bet I’m the coolest person you’ve ever seen then, huh?” Saifah asked, wiggling his eyebrows, which just made Zon roll his eyes. “So, studs or rings?” 

“What do you suggest?” 

Saifah hummed, “Studs. Rings are cool but it’s harder to heal when you’re pierced with rings. Also, in my opinion, captive beads suck.” 

“Studs it is then,” Zon replied. 

Saifah flashed a smile before turning back to his counter. He could feel that Zon was more at ease so he popped on some gloves and disinfected his tray. He collected his sterile supplies before turning back around. “I’m going to mark your ears and you can tell me if you like the placement.” Zon just nodded. 

The rest of the process came easily to Saifah, my muscle memory taking over. Zon gasped during the first but only winced for the second. 

“Already done! You did great.”

“Thanks,” Zon replied, smiling into the hand mirror. 

“You can head back up to the front desk and Day can ring you up. Pleasure doing business with you, Zon,” Saifah told him as he worked to clean his station up again. He couldn’t help but watch him go.

.

.

Zon took a deep breath. He could do this. He did it before and he could do it again. 

He stood outside the tattoo parlor, under the dark green awning to escape the blazing sun, pumping himself up to go inside. With no friends forcing him, it was taking longer than it should. 

He knew what to expect this time, and that was making it even harder than before. Not piercing pain wise, but tall, handsome piercer wise. That wasn’t why he was going back, obviously. He just kind of really dug his earrings and the piercer, Saifah, had had a really cool piercing in his eyebrow and Zon couldn’t seem to get it out of his head. 

He wanted to at least ask Saifah what he thought about getting one himself. His feet just weren’t cooperating. 

Zon jumped out of his train of thought when his phone chimed in his pocket. He let out a breath, glad to be out of his head when he pulled up the text. Zol had sent him a message asking him what he wanted for dinner, since she was going out shopping with their mom. He smiled typing out his reply and finally felt back in the right mindset to go inside.

He wasn’t expecting to see an upside-down Saifah laying (incorrectly) on the couch, strumming apparently absentmindedly on an acoustic guitar. 

“Um, hello?” 

Saifah glances towards the door, squinting his eyes at Zon. “Ah!” He exclaimed before placing the guitar next to him on the couch. “Welcome back.” Zon raised an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting the piercer to remember him at all. “Is everything healing okay?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” he replied, his hand instinctively going to his neck, just below his ear (where he’d learned to stop himself from touching and irritating his piercings). “I was actually wondering if I could get, like, a consultation for another.” 

Saifah raised his brow (Zon assumed, it was hard to tell from upside down) in surprise before somehow gracefully flipping over to stand (Zon pointedly tried not to look when his shirt rode up and- are those nipple piercings ?) and greeted Zon for real. “What were you thinking?”

Zon, who was definitely not flustered, swallowed hard and met his gaze, “I really like your…” he said, pointing at his own eyebrow.

“Ah,”Saifah smiled, “an eyebrow piercing. It was one of my first ones,” he reached a hand out towards Zon’s face but stopped short, “Do you mind if I?” Zon shook his head no, letting Saifah continue his movement. His fingers were gentle against Zon’s face, just lightly touching the skin above his brow, before giving him a little pinch. 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry! Just seeing if you can deal with the pain,” he explained.

“I wasn’t ready! And you know I don’t care if it hurts,” Zon huffed in response, making Saifah grin again. 

“Okay, okay,” he said with his hands up in surrender, “if you’re interested, I think you have the perfect browline for a horizontal instead of a vertical. I’ll knock some off the price if you let me do that instead,” he finished, punctuated with another toothy smile.

Zon bit his lip before answering, “Can you show me what that would look like?” 

Saifah nodded excitedly before leading Zon to the front desk and pulling both stools up to the laptop. They spent ten minutes, shoulder to shoulder, sitting at the desk, Saifah pulling up different images for Zon to consider. Within two minutes Zon had decided he loved it, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching Saifah excitedly find new ones to show him. 

“What do you think?” 

Zon looked up, met with Saifah’s bright eyes, and he couldn’t help smile. “Yeah, dude it looks sick. I’m down for it.” 

Saifah smiles so brightly in response, his eyes almost closed. And Zon could feel his heart in his throat, thinking cute , how was this man covered in tattoos and piercings ( including nipple piercings his mind supplied) so cute ?

Zon quickly found himself back on the same cushioned stool in the back room as his first visit, going through paperwork with Saifah. He felt more at ease the second time around. 

Like Saifah could read his mind, he stated, “you seem much more chill this time. Is it because you know what to expect or because your friends aren’t here this time?” he asked, voice light, presumably so Zon knew he was mostly joking around.

“A mix of both I guess. My friends are great, but… sometimes they’re not,” he chuckled. 

“I think that’s true for most friends,” Saifah agreed, “mine have been on lunch break for like two hours at this point,” he said while glancing at his wrist. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, rather it seemed fond. “Tutor has the day off, since he and his boyfriend work at the foodbank on Thursdays, but Hwahwa and Day, the other artists, think they’re so slick.”

Zon furrowed his brow, “you’re the only one here?” 

Saifah nodded, “they didn’t have any appointments scheduled until the evening so I’m sure they thought their sneaky secret date would go unnoticed. But I’ve got a keen eye.”

Zon chuckled at that, “the most keen eye if they thought you wouldn’t notice being left alone in the shop.”

“Oh, he’s cracking jokes! Careful, try and remember who is stabbing who today, my Zon.” Saifah teased. 

A sudden wave of heat hit Zon- from his neck to the tips of his ears. He scrambled, trying to  come up with a retort to hide his fluster, but Saifah took it in stride, turning to sanitize his station. He hummed a familiar tune that Zon couldn’t exactly place, but he was kind of mesmerized. Saifah was gentle and yet so diligent with his work.He’d done a bit more research for this visit and he read plenty of horror stories online about dirty shops and artists that didn’t care, so he was glad his friends just happened to stumble upon Saifah’s shop. 

“Ready?” Saifah asked, tone low, and genuine , Zon noted. 

He nodded, a lazy smile finding its place on his face. Saifah returned the grin and took the clean marker with a gloved hand. Zon relaxed at the familiar steps and let Saifah do what he clearly knew how to do best. 

Needless to say, it hurt quite a bit more than his ears.

“Tears are normal, you know,” Saifah reassured as he handed Zon a tissue,  “It’s close to your eye, so it’s a natural reaction. Just in case you were still worried about seeming weak or something, don’t be,” he clarified. “On a completely unrelated note, I cried like a baby when I got the tattoo on my neck,” he pointed at the (frankly terrifying) bat on his throat, “and when I got the one on my hip. And the one that wraps around my foot, oh my god-”

“Okay, okay,” Zon said, laughing lightly despite the well of tears in his eyes. He sniffed, “Thank you.” He wanted to say more; more about his kindness, more about toxic masculinity, more about anything but Saifah handed him the hand mirror then. “Wow.”

“Wow as in what a great job it looks fantastic or wow as in this is terrible and I’m going to slash your tires as soon as I’m out of here?”

“Has that happened?”

“Of course not! I’m very talented.” Zon laughed, still admiring the work. “Wow as in I didn’t think it would make me look this… hot?”

His sentiment seemed to tickle Saifah, causing him to let out a laugh too. “I can confirm, you definitely look hot.”

Zon coughed, seemingly choking on nothing before hurriedly asking, “so how much do I owe you?”

.

.

“We should start some sort of punch card system.” Saifah peeked up from his guitar, ready to shoot Tutor a skeptical look, but he continued, “I think your guy with the ‘eyebrows for days’ would appreciate it, since he’s back. Again.”

“What?”

Tutor didn’t answer, just smiled his devilish grin as the door chimed and a person came into the shop. Saifah whipped his attention to the door, cracking his neck in the process.

Zon let out a snort, “don’t hurt yourself, geez,” he joked. The midday sun glinted off the still somewhat fresh barbell in his eyebrow and Saifah could faint.  

“Welcome!” Tutor called from the desk, “how can we help you today?”

“Oh, um,” he faltered, eyes shifting from Tutor to Saifah, back to Tutor, “I wanted to get a piercing.”

“Ah, so Saifah and I are both certified for piercings-”

“Tutor, I can take care of him,” Saifah said, straining. Evil. His best friend was evil. Saifah quickly led Zon to the counter, glad to see that smile return to his face. “Didn’t Hwahwa say she may need some help with her back piece client?” 

“Oh how could I forget!” Tutor overdramatically replied before rushing to the base of the stairs, “and please consider those punch cards, dude!” he called as he took two steps at a time. 

“Is he… usually like that?”

“Unfortunately,” Saifah replied, immediately followed by a burst of laughter from Hwahwa and Tutor upstairs. He grimaced.

“Anyway! How are you?” Zon asked with a curious smile and (that goddamn) eyebrow quirked. 

“I’ve been pretty good,” Saifah started, “I was beginning to wonder if my favorite customer was ever going to show back up again, so I was slightly down in the dumps for a bit.” “Oh? So you do get regulars,” he paused, seemingly considering this, “Did they come around?” Saifah nodded excitedly, making Zon’s smile even brighter, “That’s great! What did they get done?”

“I don’t know. What were you looking to get done today?”

Saifah was met with the biggest eye roll he’s ever seen, so he laughed. “Seriously, what are you interested in?”

“Ah, I was actually going to see what you thought would look good,” he answered quickly, looking down at the counter. Saifah raised an eyebrow but he couldn’t help it. He also pointedly ignored the snickering from the top of the stairs.

“Wait, so you didn’t have anything in mind? You wanted to know… what I think would look good?”

“I find it hard to believe no one has ever asked for your professional opinion before, dude,” Zon said, tips of his ears turning pink. 

“I… I mean-“

“Anyway, I did do research, I know that dermals aren’t for me, but otherwise I wanted your expertise,” Zon babbled, as Saifah still didn't quite know what to say, “I’ve just really liked how I’ve looked recently and I like how I’ve been more confident and I think you have a bit to do with that, so ,” he took a breath, “what do you think?”

Saifah must have been gaping. He didn’t hear anything from upstairs either; he wasn’t sure what that meant. Zon still wasn’t looking at him. He closed his dumb mouth and cleared his throat. 

“Well, I guess, in my expert opinion,” he started, “I think… you had that confidence in you somewhere already. I just poked some holes in your already very nice looking face.” Saifah caught the edge of Zon’s smile, still mostly hidden from his view. “As for a recommendation, I’d say anything but a lip ring.”

“Oh?” Zon let his gaze drift back up, “why is that?”

“You can’t kiss anyone while it heals,” Saifah answered with a toothy grin. Zon responded by weakly punching him in the arm. 

“Do you always hit on your clients like this?”

“No, just my favorite one. I’m hoping it’ll make him stick around.”

“Tell him about the punch cards!” was yelled from the top of the stairs.

 Saifah ended up giving Zon a helix piercing somewhere in between chasing Tutor out of the building, buying Zon lunch, and a few kisses (sans lip ring).

#why r u #why r u the series #saifahzon #my fics #annie writes #what other tags do i add #this fic took me like months to write whoops #tattoo parlor au #why r u fic #saifahzon fic #i dont know #here ya go

[permanantheadache]

It’s officially the 5th where I am! Happy DEH Gift Exchange! @sincerely-us My person was @iellostar Hope you like this!!

The prompts were: evan and connor on a road trip. like, to set the scene: like those aus of people running away and disappearing when they turn 18. And: Connor comes out to his dad and it doesnt go well, he goes to evans and heidi and evan comfort him and its super sweet and cute.     And, like....for the art I did the first one, but...I kind of also did fic. Because I was worried that this drawing wasn’t very good. So, I combined the two prompts and made the fic below. It’s also on Ao3

Connor is smiling. It’s a gentle thing, this smile. Warm, happy. It’s Evan’s favorite, even though it’s the rarest.

Evan has been watching this smile form for the past hour. The further they get away from civilization, from all the drama waiting for them back home, the more relaxed Connor gets.

Anxiety and anger and stress leach away from his face, softening the line of his shoulders until he’s practically slumping in his seat.

“You’re staring,” Connor says. It’s not a complaint.

“I have a cute boyfriend,” Evan counters anyway.

Connor rolls his eyes, but his cheeks turn pink. “No, you.”

The road around them is deserted, which is how Evan’s anxiety likes it. This is the main reason he doesn’t protest when Connor takes one hand off the wheel to lace with Evan’s.

Evan pulls their joined hands up to give Connor’s knuckles a kiss.

--

It’s Heidi’s idea, originally. Long before Connor and Evan are even dating, she suggests that the two of them take a roadtrip, the summer before college. She thinks getting away from the stress of school and work, as well as their peers, might do them a lot of good.

She references Evan’s pin map, the one he abandoned at the beginning of the year--he’s replaced some of the old pins in their spots, as well as adding new pins to places that Connor mentions he’d like to see someday.

Heidi’s pleased that Evan’s retaken up his old habit, but she’s a little too smug about those new pins for his liking.

They have nothing to do with his crush on Connor, mom!

Not…not that he has a crush on Connor.

…

Okay, yes, he’s completely gone on Connor.

Thankfully, as Evan finds out later, Connor reciprocates those feelings!

But that’s a story for another time.

Connor is completely on board with Heidi’s idea, once it’s brought up to him. He’s perfectly happy to spend some time away from his family, especially if Evan’s there. The three of them make a cautious plan that, the month after graduation, Connor and Evan will hit the road.

Heidi, after nearly thirteen years of single-parenthood, is a master at budgeting. She helps them plan out where they’ll stay and the costs. It’s more than a little confusing to both boys, but to Connor especially. He’s shit at math and numbers.

Between their two jobs, and Heidi and Connor’s mother helping, they should be perfectly fine, money-wise, to do what they’d like.

“I wanna go to Bear Mountain,” Connor tells Evan.

Evan blinks, surprised. “I mean, me too, but isn’t hiking more my thing?” His eyes widen and he tries to backtrack. “Not that I think you don’t exercise! I just--”

“Let’s be real, I don’t exercise,” Connor scoffs, cutting Evan’s panic off at the knees. “But it’s in On the Road and you know I’m a hoe for anything to do with books.”

“Yeah, but you’re my hoe.”

“...”

“You know what I meant, asshole!”

--

They end up having to move up their timeline by a week. Because Larry and Connor get into their worst fight since the beginning of the school year.

The thing is, Connor and Evan have been open about their relationship to Heidi since the very beginning. And they tell Cynthia not long after. Both women are, to put it lightly, overly supportive of their relationship. It’s genuine, but Connor can tell that some of Cynthia’s furver stems from guilt. And because Evan and Connor have been mentally healthier since they became friends.

(They both still have their bad days. Some are worse than others. But, it helps. To not be alone.)

Unfortunately, Cynthia broaches the topic of telling Larry.

And she keeps bringing it up.

It takes two full months of convincing before Connor agrees to tell--if only to stop her nagging him.

Because Connor is a realist, he expresses his doubt to Evan. Larry has never been the most accepting--even about things that most straight, white men at least tolerate.

Connor won’t say that he’s worried, per say. But he’s got a bad feeling in his gut. And his gut is rarely wrong.

--

Connor has an emergency bag stashed at the Hansen house.

The first time that Connor has a fight with his family, post-becoming-friends with Evan, Connor crawls in through Evan’s bedroom window. It’s the middle of October, and freezing, and Connor has on shorts and a thin shirt. He’s shivering, in rage and because he’s cold.

After Evan gets done shrieking at the potential burglar, he loans Connor some sweats and makes him hot chocolate. He gets down all the spare blankets and make a cocoon in the living room.

Connor spends the night. The sweats are too short, but he wears them anyway. They don’t talk about what drove him to Evan’s house. They watch Food Network in near comfortable silence (though Evan can’t stop the worried look he keeps aiming at Connor, and Connor can’t fully relax until he’s passed out).

Connor crawls through Evan’s bedroom window three more times before Heidi (having caught on after the second time) gives him a spare key and a suggestion that he keep extra clothes in Evan’s closet.

“We’re always happy to have you over,” she tells him gently, closing his hand around the key she’s put in it. She’s smiling, her gentle amusement crinkling her eyes. “Just, maybe use the door?”

And so, there comes to be a small backpack filled with just enough clothes for an overnight visit and something for the next day.

At first.

Over time, the contents of the bag shift, as Connor comes over for impromptu sleepovers--and, as he and Evan became closer friends, more scheduled sleepovers--and switch out the clothes for fresh ones.

Eventually, Evan, kind of tired of how over-full the bag is getting (he keeps tripping over it when he needs something from the back of the closet), cleans out the bottom drawer of his dresser and puts all of Connor’s things in there.

It feels like something permanent, Connor having his own drawer in Evan’s house.

--

Connor drives, half-blind from the angry tears streaming down his face, until he reaches the familiar street that the Hansens’ reside on. He probably parks crooked.

He doesn’t care.

His hand is shaking as he pulls out his phone.

Connor: Im outisde

Fukc

Im outsidee

He can’t fucking type properly because his hands are shaking and he’s crying too hard and he hates this he hates his dad he hates himself he hates--

“--hey, Con, hey.”

He didn’t hear the car door open. Evan’s blurry figure is beside him, close but not touching. Connor nearly lunges to pull his boyfriend against him, immediately burying his face in Evan’s neck. He desperately needs the contact.

Evan is good at hugs.

(When Connor brings it up, their first month of dating, Evan goes deeply red. But he hugs Connor even more after that, so he counts it as a win.)

He breathes in Evan’s scent, a woodsy floral thing that never fails to send some signal to Connor’s brain that he’s safe . That, paired with the shaky hand running over his hair, practically hard-resets all the tension in his body.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, curled around Evan’s body, but eventually he finds himself pulling away. “I fucking hate crying,” he grumbles, voice crackly from tears. He scrubs at his face roughly.

Evan pulls Connor’s hands away from his face. He keeps holding them. “C’mon, you can wash your face. And you’re probably dehydrated now, so I’ll get you some water. Otherwise—”

“—otherwise I’m gonna end up with a migraine,” Connor agrees. He’s suddenly exhausted. He allows Evan to lead him inside.

—

Heidi is on the phone when they come in. Her back is to the door, so she doesn’t see them right away. “Yes, Cynthia, of course I’ll look out for him. Yes. As long as he needs to be here. He’s like a son to me.”

Connor can’t hold back the intake of breath at her words--she actually seems to mean them. It makes his chest ache. His eyes burn anew.

Heidi turns at his small noise. Her eyes go wide, and then soften with sadness and affection. “He’s here Cynthia. I’ll have him call you later.” She puts down the phone and immediately gathers him into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Connor crumples in her hold, going limp against her. And, he finds, he is not quite done crying.

There’s a brush of another hand on Connor’s back. “I’ll go get you that water,” Evan says gently. He leaves the two of them alone.

Heidi leads Connor over to sit on the couch. He sits, curling against her like a little kid. She’s patting at his hair. It’s nice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Connor shrugs. “Did my mom tell you what happened?” he asks, after a moment. His voice is scratchy as hell.

“She said that you and Larry had an argument.”

He scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly.”

She waits for him to go on.

“I just.” He sighs. “You and my mom and Zoe--you guys were all happy when Ev and I got together. I wanted. Part of me just wanted Larry to at least…accept it.” He laughs. It’s not a happy sound. “It’s not like I’ve ever exactly hidden the fact that I’m not super hetero.”

“Sometimes we’re blind to things we don’t want to see,” Heidi says gently.

Evan sits down next to them, placing three cups of water on the coffee table. He takes Connor’s hand again.

Connor chokes on a sob. “I don’t get why the hell it hurts so bad? It’s Larry , I shouldn’t be so cut up about this!”

It’s Evan who speaks, squeezing at their laced hands. “He should’ve been supportive of you. It’s not your fault he’s a--a shitty human being.”

“I don’t want to see him,” Connor confesses. “I don’t--I can’t…”

“Well, you’re staying here, honey,” Heidi says, firm. “As long as you want. Cynthia is sending Zoe over with your stuff in the morning.”

“I’m sorry. I’m shoving all my garbage off on you guys.” He feels like such a burden.

“Hon, we care about you. The people in your life that care, they help carry anything you can’t.”

Connor sits up, rubs at his running nose. Evan hands him a glass of water. He drinks half of it down. “‘M tired,” he says.

“It’s late,” Heidi agrees. “You boys should go ahead and lay down.”

Connor and Evan are still holding hands as they make their way upstairs. They curl up together on Evan’s tiny bed, but neither of them sleep yet.

Evan is tracing circles across Connor’s back with his free hand. His voice is quiet. “How would you feel about leaving this week, instead of next?”

Connor slumps in relief, giving a brief, jerky nod.. “That would actually be perfect.” His hold on Evan tightens. “I don’t…I can’t stay in the same town with him. I think I’ll lose my shit if I see him.”

“Valid. I think I might punch him if I see him.”

“Babe.”

“I’m serious. He hurt you, I hate him.”

--

They’re driving down to Harriman State Park, their first stop--mainly due to its proximity to Bear Mountain and the Appalachian trail.

It’s sunny, but not hot. It’s the perfect temperature for a hike. At least, according to Evan.

Connor has to sit down on a rock twenty minutes in. He’s sweating buckets and glaring at Evan. Evan is entirely too cheerful. “How are you so upbeat?” Connor whines. He reluctantly accepts an offered water bottle. “Don’t you hate sweating?”

“Of course I do, but when I’m sweating because I’m doing something I enjoy, it doesn’t affect me as much.”

Connor smirks behind his water bottle, giving Evan a raised eyebrow.

“Oh shut the hell up, you know what I meant!”

“Do I?”

“I’m not the one wearing black!”

--

The sun is just beginning to set when they make camp. Which is something that Connor actually knows how to do.

Those few years in Boy Scouts that Larry forced him to do are actually useful.

Connor scowls. He’s not going to think about Larry. He’s on a trip with his awesome boyfriend and he’s not going to let anyone ruin that. Not even himself.

It’s still early enough in the summer that night time is significantly cooler. It’s the perfect temperature for cuddling. Evan and Connor take full advantage and curl up together.

“Jeezus ,” Connor squeaks, flinching away from the icicles currently assaulting his legs. “Why are your feet so cold?”

A somewhat devious giggle slips out of his boyfriend. “I have p--I have poor circulation?”

“How come I haven’t noticed this before?”

“I usually wear socks at home, but I’m not going to sleep in sweaty socks. That’s gross.”

Connor heaves a long sigh and submits to Evan sticking his freezing toes all over his shins. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Evan hums happily and says, far too seriously, “I love you, too.”

It should be a big moment, them saying those words to each other for the first time. But, Connor likes this better. He likes that they’re calm and pleasantly sleepy from the long drive and difficult hike. His muscles ache in a good way (though he won’t likely feel that way come morning). And he is cuddling with his boyfriend, who loves him.

He snuggles more firmly against Evan and drifts off to sleep.

#Dear Evan Hansen Gift Exchange #iellostar #deh #my fic #tree bros #my art #connor murphy #evan hansen #Heidi Hansen #this is saved in my google docs as 'dear ev hansen why r u so hard to write. this story's shitty but i hope they'll think it's alright' lmao #Present tense #bc that's literally the only way i know how to write lmao #it is 9am on the 5th here so even if its the 4th in most other places im gonna post this rip me #sorry this is dumb and im dumb #stay tuned for the reject drawing!! #which is in my other sketch pad at work! so like tomorrow or something! #im gonna go hide now

[relatablyreid]

Breaking Boundaries - LA & SR

Even if this suggestion had sat on his mind for the past month that he’d known his collegue Spencer, didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. To ask out Spencer, even within the building would be weird because on public work grounds he’s looking for love or even a one night exclusive with his work partner. If he asks for his number, he’ll be asked why. Asking Garcia to quite literally confidentially slip it to him isn’t as sly as he desires because then on a need to know basis, he’ll have to explain himself to her. No one around would he be able to ask for advice on the pressing matter because everyone in the Behavioral Analysis Unit would pry, and that’s not only because of their internal curiosity but more so because that’s their job and how they make money. It also wouldn’t be something to let slid under the door when the newbie is asking for information on a long timer of the unit, suspiciously so. Today’s self set mission was to figure out the simplest and easiest way to ask his current work partner, and friend to go out with him to a little restaurant near his own home. Why? Probably because the only thing he ever really smiled at was making others smile, but Spencer’s was one he longed to see again and more often. So as he sat in his box within the bullpen, he scribbled ideas on his yellow standard notepad and hoped no one was looking over his shoulder. It didn’t seem like they would though, deep in argument over some of Cher’s best music. One voice he hadn’t heard speak up too much was his daydream partner Spencer, and he didn’t know where to assume he’d been. Possibly filling out his paperwork, then, considering socially popular music and media didn’t interest him too much. He knew so much about Spencer, and he just wished he could share it to him or tell someone. He had to go somewhere. All this nervous energy, all these bad memories behind his anticipation was killing him. It seemed like it was creating real pressure up in his forehead and-

“Luke? Are you alright?” Spencer asked, and he had been concerningly looking down at his face. It seemed as though if the nature was meant to be mocking to Luke, as if he was rising from the floor in the playground. There he was again, on the the concrete as his nose bled as rapidly as it was onto the cold under his rear end. People were staring, it wasn’t just Spencer. He was being pointed at, and laughed at. Faintly the taunting was audible to him, the random and sporadic way the others were throwing around the words ‘loser’ and ‘faggot’ at him. It was bleeding right into the scene, all around Spencer. Frozen in the scene, Luke stared at Spencer and practically gawked.

“Something’s wrong with him.” Spencer said softly, and he turned his head and looked around. “JJ! Something’s wrong with Luke!” Spencer shouted, and he kept an eye on the man in the chair. This accidentally brought attention to Luke from Prentiss and Rossi. There was now an unintentionally formed crowd around him.

To Luke, it looked so bizarre. His collegues and other students from his classes yelling cuss words at him and rude slang for what they presumed he would fit in regards to common social grouping and clique terms. On the random punch thrown to his face in his flashback, he snaps out of it all.

“I’m not a faggot, I’m not, I-I, just leave me alone please, I’m not a fag, I..” Luke blinked a bit then furiously rubbed at his eyes and then cupped his ears a moment to stop the repeating and echoing of his childhood trauma on the park grounds. “I’m not, I’ll be back, I’m just..” Luke failed to fix what possible mess he’d just made now. “Sorry.” Standing promptly, he made his way to the bahroom. He had a lot to explain and nowhere near any reasonable explanations. The only one he knew was a logical and acceptable explanation or excuse to use to defend his very recent actions would be to tell the truth. Yet, this wasn’t exactly something he’d felt the most comfortable with sharing to all of his collegues. It wasn’t something he’d like to have to say in front of Spencer, that’s for sure. Embarrass himself right in front of his first true love interest, and then probably never fully have a real conversation the same way again afterwards. He made his slow feet take steps towards the main sink in the bathroom, and he turned the cool water on. If he’s being completely honest, this began about two nights ago when in the comfort and as presumed safety of his home, he had fallen asleep on the couch watching some sort of animal planet video and he had woken up shaking and crying over his nightmare. Not necessarily how he’d planned for his evening to go, but certainly and depressingly how it’d ended. He hadn’t even been able to process the possibility of attempting to go back to sleep after that dream. As neatly as possible, he splashed at his face with water right over the sink. Then reached for the towels to dry his dampened face. He needed to talk to someone, he wanted to talk to someone about this. He stared down at his now half dry hands and he sighed. The trip back to the bullpen would be weird, because of what he damn near practically yelled to the whole room.

“Prentiss? How much spanish would you say you know?” Was the first thing he was able to ask once he stepped back into the room beside her and the group. The goal was to get himself in the room alone with Prentiss, in order to confide in her and then make his way back to his desk to sit alone. He intended upon just focusing on her until he got to talk to her, and relax.

“Suficiente para hablar. Que esta mal. ¿Mi oficina o fuera?” Prentiss replied, and Luke raised a brow.* Reminded him to never take the abilities of his little behavioral analysis family for granted.

“Sí, señora, ¿podemos ir a la oficina? Fuera de los libros. Por favor.” Luke requested, and he cleared his throat a bit.* She lead the way right into her room as the other agents glanced around beyond unknowledgable to what sort of route the conversation had taken. All that way easy to read was the yes, and office. On easy assumptions and putting two and two together, you could tell why they’d walked away.

Once he stepped inside the office and heard the door finalize the choice, he exhaled. Now he had to speak his peace, prove his sanity and hope Prentiss didn’t kick him off the team or have him turn his badge and gun in to take a trip of his own to the psychiatric ward down the block.

“Speak fast, they think you’ve really lost it, Luke.” Prentiss suggested, and she sat down at her desk. “Contrary to that popularly believed assumption, I don’t think so though. Speak fast if you’re guilty.”

“I had a flashback.” Luke was fragmenting to prevent throwing himself back into a whirlwind of traumatic memories and terror. It separated who he was talking to now from something that happened in the past. It helped him lay things out in reality as they were and are, not as one lump together.

“Flashback about what? Was it from your time in the Army?” Prentiss asked, making sure she thoroughly got the truth. He wasn’t one to lie and that she knew, but she didn’t know why her teammate had yelled an offensive slang word for homosexual at the top of his lungs in the middle of the professional workspace also known as the bullpen. She doubted that any of that had been for fun.

“When I was a kid. Not from the army.” Luke cleared his throat again, and he kept his eyes from nearing Emily’s desk or belongings. He didn’t want to have to face her after that, afraid that she was feeling embarrassed or ashamed.

“What happened in the flashback?” Emily had to pry a bit more to get the lid of this coffin open.

“Haz las preguntas más sí y no, por favor.“ Luke urged of her, hoping she would apply it so that he could have an easier time answering. “Hasta que me sienta cómodo. Por favor.”*

“Of course. Did you get yelled at in the flashback?” Emily had been narrowing it now, on request of Luke. She just wanted him to feel comfortable for now so she could piece together what just really happened.

“Yes, a lot.” Luke mumbled, realizing how shameful he ought to be for sharing this story with his boss and teammate. Someone he’d have to see on the daily for quite a long time after this.

“By who? Was it by your parents?” Emily thought for a moment that it could have been his parents due to how little he’d ever spoken about them.

“No, by all my classmates.” Luke began to anxiously bounce his left foot on the toes. It didn’t make his shoes obnoxiously squeak when he did so.

“How many kids, Luke?” Emily wanted to understand if it was the crowding of them all that scared him.

“Twenty two.” His eyes glanced around the room a bit scaling upwards in sense of direction. Vertical and right to left, but also from the floor to the ceiling and passing back and forth between Emily a few times. She didn’t look mad. In fact, she looked so gentle that it was incredibly hard to believe.

“What were they yelling?” Maybe they were the ones calling him a faggot. For kids to yell such obscenities to another child made a lot more sense.

“F-Faggot. I held hands with Ethan when I wanted to go to get lunch.” Luke confessed, and he bit his bottom lip briefly and let it slide through his teeth to be free again.

“Now you don’t have to answer, but has this happened again recently in a different yet still root wise similar form?” Emily had to be careful not to break the gained comfortability that Luke built up for the conversation.

“I want to ask someone on a date. My head doesn’t allow me to try, because it’s not right. I’ve been taught that it’s not. I’m not allowed to like him the way I do.” Luke chopped the sentences so he didn’t cry that time around. It was hard to keep a neutral to calmer facial expression when talking about something like that.

“You can love whoever you want, nobody set any rules against it. No one here in the BAU will judge you, Luke.” Emily tried to help out Luke, assure him in ways that a mother would. “Is there more to the flashback?”

“Yes. It’s stupid, though.” Luke’s eyes flashed up at Emily’s to see if she was still calm or reassuring. He didn’t want to upset her, because then he knew that he would be panicking.

“Nothing you say is stupid, Luke. If you didn’t share your feelings or opinions as they come most of the time, then we wouldn’t have saved as many people as we have.” Emily tried to praise him, hoping to coax the rest of the situation out of him but also make sure he knew he was heard and often times a valid component to the conversation.

“I got punched. Went home, my mother didn’t like it either, said I may have deserved it after all.” Luke had admitted to the most heartbreaking part of his story, and he teared up a bit. “I deserved it. It’s not right for me to like boys.” He repeated, as if he was reminding himself now.

“Luke, I hope you know that it’s really common nowadays for people to like the same sex or the same and the opposite. I also want you to know how legally and truthfully non-judgemental the bureau is. If anyone and I mean anyone in our unit decided to treat you different for whatever reason it may be, I’d certainly take care of it. It’s not a sin, or a crime, Luke. You know this. Love is love, and it’s not under your choice or mine. You love whoever it is you do, and that’s perfectly fine by me and the rest of the team. I shouldn’t be saying this regardless of it being off the books or not, but I like girls and I like guys. It’s like how the body is full of water, it-it’s just a part of me. Doesn’t make me bad, or a sinner.” Emily spoke from her heart, truly understanding and just trying to console the man beside her. No one really deserved to feel guilty for the one they decide to love, or date, whatever it may be. Girl, guy or anything in between, it wasn’t her place to judge. As long as the relationship was healthy, she couldn’t care less as to who Luke would prefer dating.

“Thank you, thank you really, Emily.” Luke swallowed his saliva and he cleared his throat a bit. “Thank you. I’m going to go back to my desk. I’m sure you can say something, not too uh, revealing.” Luke nodded a bit, standing and making his way to the door.

“Should I say it was a prompted panic attack, or prompted anxiety attack?” Emily asked before Luke had opened the door. “Puedo mentir, confia en mi Cualquier cosa por su seguridad y confianza.”* In hopes to keep him assured that this was off the books, not for anyone beside the two of them to know.

“Uhm, whichever will bring the least amount of questions. Graciás, señora.” Luke gives a small wave and a small smile to the woman before he makes his way to his desk. He did feel better, surprisingly so. He’d never really spoken about deep rooted traumatic events like that before, not with anyone.

Sitting down at his desk, he flips through and tries to file out his paperwork so that towards the end of his day, he’ll have twenty minutes of free time to use to his advantage. He planned on using that time to just ask the question. If not now, then truly never. No shame was supposed to be behind it, he had to remind himself. No shame behind who he loved, and no shame behind who’s hand he wanted to hold.

After finishing up his last folder, he closed it slowly and he let out a long sigh. Reassuring himself would take a quarter of the time he had out of the twenty minutes, but it’d make this a lot smoother.

Successfully, he makes his way over to Spencer’s corner and he knocks on the framing of it to the right side of the squared off office.

“Hey, Luke. How are you feeling? Emily told me it was a small anxiety attack, but I mean, it looked much like that of a different sort of panic attack. It looked like you were seeing a flashback, and you looked quite upset so I’m assuming it’s safely none of my business but I figured I’d check on you around now anyways.” Spencer had rambled slightly so, not having anyone to talk to for the past thirty minutes.

“I’m alright Spence. I’ll be okay. I got a real serious question for you, okay?” Luke set himself up perfectly now. All he had to do was spit it out.

“Anything. Anything at all, I’ll hope I know the answer to it and try to help you if I can.” Spencer turned to face Luke, except he didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes directly or consistently.

“Do.. you want to go on a date with me? I was thinking that I could possibly make you some sort of food, I’m not too awful with a skillet and some veggies and noodles. If you don’t like pad thai, then I could always take you to a restaurant in town somewhere. Anywhere you like, really.” Luke finally found the courage and pushed the words out, and topped it with a smile. He had tried his best to look like he wasn’t sort of stressed for an answer.

“Pad thai is alright, I like it with the sweeter soy marinade rather than a soy sauce. I’ll pick some up on my way over there. If you send me your address now, I can rush home and get on something nicer to wear and then pick up a marinade, and be there for eight.” Spencer hadn’t said no. He didn’t disagree, or yell, or hurt him. In fact, he didn’t seem opposed to the idea in even the slightest aspect of things.

“You mean yes? As in yes, you’ll go on a date with me?” Luke asked, and he looked at Spencer in awe. Both of their faces coated in a bright red color, the excitement and realization of what was happening had filled their cheeks nicely with blush.

From her office, Emily had carefully peered through the slit of the blinds to spectate her collegues, brimming eyes over Spencer and Luke. Smiling, she realized who exactly Luke had mentioned when he spoke about liking someone and wanting to ask them out for a date. It was Spencer. Someone reasonable to be anxious towards asking out, in Emily’s personal opinion.

“Yes, Luke Alvez. I’d be pleased to go on a date with you.” Spencer smiled, and he looked up at Luke and into his eyes for a moment. The way his eyes expressed how joyful he was had filled Spencer’s heart, and he smiled a bit brighter just realizing how happy he’d made Luke. He decided to even add to the enjoyment. “Do you want to walk out, together?” He asked, a bit anxious because he was generally scared but newer to the romantic scene than he’d realized.

“Oh, sure, that’ll be cool, that, yeah! Alright!” Much like a school boy would, Luke stammered about as he basked in his excitement and overhwelming positive shock. He went to his desk and grabbed his bag, placing his pens in there and he flipped the overhang cover back where it did it’s job. He closed his drawers all the same, and moved his chair in once he was done. Then ripped out the yellow notebook page he’d used to write about how was going to ask Spencer out. It was all his braindumping, all his sorting out.

Little did he know, he wouldn’t have needed it anyways. Spencer planned on saying yes no matter how the event was presented to him.

Beside Spencer now and leading towards the exit, after holding open the front doors, he’d offered his hand to Spencer. “I’ll save you the fare and drop you home.”

Spencer smiled at the gentle offer, and he took Luke’s hand and nodded. “Two fifty isn’t much, but it is two fifty saved for this evening.” He was very happy to feel Luke’s thumb rubbing small circles into the back of Spencer’s hand. It put stars around his head and had him mentally drooling over how sweet and kind Luke was. It was exactly as he’d expect for Luke. It was perfect for the moment, and it was going to be even nicer to seem him relaxed and in a better mood for tonight. Luke probably didn’t know it, but Spencer adored his smile just as spassionately.

————————

* Emily says; Sufficiently enough to talk. Not too bad. My office or outside?

* Luke says; Yes ma’am, can we go to your office? Off the books, please.

* Luke requests; Ask me questions that are yes and no, please. It will help me feel comfortable. Please.

* Emily assures; I can lie, trust me. Anything for your safety and trust.

#luke alvez #spencer reid #ralvez #this one i wrote to show a more anxious side to luke #and a less anxious side to spencer #something more open to new ideas

[csjolly]

Hello! For your prompts I’m a real sucker for CS adopting a child. :)

ok I know this is pretty out there and LOOSELY follows the prompt so please forgive me! I’ve been wanting to write this for ages. Hope you enjoy :) 

“Bite your tongue, pet. I’m walking you home, whether you like it or not.” Emma huffed at Killian’s stubborn tone, rolling her eyes as he shouldered his leather bag and extended his arm. A chill ruffled her hair, the cold October weather finally getting to her.“Fine,” She eventually conceded, without batting an eye at his possessive endearment, “I’m not some damsel in distress, though.” 

The top of his ears turned red as he blushed, glancing briefly at his crooked arm, which he had offered to avoid her tripping on the iced-over stairs.

“I don’t need help down the stairs, Jones, no matter how high we are up Fall’s ass.” She continued, pushing past his hand and stepping down to the sidewalk that wrapped around the campus library where she worked.Killian scratched behind his ear and grinned obnoxiously. He shook his head, chiding her playfully, “Oi! That’s professor Jones to you.” 

Emma held back a smile of her own, batting at his shoulder as he descended to her level. “I’m not your student. I’m not even a student,” She reminded him. 

He shrugged. “As long as we work for the same university, I think you’ll find my title stays.” “And what if I want to call you by your first name, instead?” She turned to him coyly, finding his hand and intertwining their fingers. In response, he craned his neck down to pull her into a languid kiss, his wrist pressed against the small of her back. He gently gripped the fabric of her red leather jacket, his right arm finding the curve of her jaw and pressing her closer.

The red-brown scruff of his cheek brushed against her fingers and she hummed into his mouth. That got him to pull back reluctantly, tapping her on the nose. 

“You’ll have to ask nicely, I suppose.” He murmured against her, and Emma laughed, pushing off of him. 

“Yeah, yeah, Casanova.” She giggled, shaking her head as he trailed behind her.

The two walked in a comfortable silence down the empty streets, only pausing once to tie Emma’s shoe (“Honestly, Swan, why do you bother with those boots? I’d much prefer you in heels”/“You couldn’t handle me in heels, Jones”). The darkened road to Emma’s place ran beneath the metro underpass, a heavy stone bridge that towered over the slums of Boston. Her house was a block or so past it, a tiny little bungalow hidden by big metal fencing and walls of foliage. Emma was an expert in budgeting, not having a degree to back her up for a higher-paying job, and not having the money to go back to school to get one. The discount fencing was to keep out the drunks that stumbled through the back alley that her garage laid along, and the foliage had been a nice touch of her own. She had always wanted to live somewhere green, with flowers and bright colors, and she had been piecing her way towards that year by year with each potted plant she added to her yard serving as a souvenir.

 Beyond her cool and guarded demeanor, she was a soft and gentle person, emotional in nature and kind in heart. The dismal mentality she grew up with was slowly tumbling away, whether it was at her own hand, or at the hand of a scruffy and rugged brit who smelled of coffee and vanilla, grumbling about the way she drove and embracing her tightly and protectively, as though each touch was his last. 

The little homestead with chipped blue paint lacquered over dulled wooden paneling and a dirt stained porch was all she could really hope for. It was dusty and odd, but it was unique and so very alive. She could feel the calm energy that buzzed through the windowsills and chilled the dew droplets on the grass each morning. Emma knew the warmth and love that she had put into the property, and the same affection it gave back.

Her financial situation was one she had always struggled with. Her affinity for books and charismatic personality had earned her a spot at Boston University’s library, which was certainly a blessing, but didn’t quite make for a luxurious status. She certainly had been offered help from her friends. There was always the librarian who picked up Emma’s shifts on her off days, Belle French. She had her friend Mary Margaret, an English Professor whose husband David worked as a deputy for the Boston Police Department. Even her best friend and boss, Regina Mills, had offered to lend Emma money. She refused, though, each time. She didn’t want pity cash, and she didn’t want patronizing looks. She wanted the be recognized as someone who could take care of herself. Killian had always respected that, offering to cover dinner and give her rides to the store but graciously nodding when she refused. 

The one thing he was a stickler for was walking her home. She didn’t live far from the University, only a few blocks- but he never failed to accompany her after her shifts, muttering something about ‘good form’ (“So you’ve decided to be a gentleman today?” / “I’m always a gentleman, love”). She had to admit, despite her perfected ability to hold her own in a fight, his protectiveness was endearing. Each time he put his arm around her shoulder under the bitterness of the night and the fluorescent street lamps, she felt a sense of safety and contentment that she hadn’t known in years. 

That’s not to say she didn’t manage on her own, though- upholding her dignity atop muscled shoulders and and maintaining her quality of life on a head of blonde hair. In fact, her stitched-together abode even served as refuge to some of the scrap-starved kids that frequented the underpasses and tunnels near the train station. 

Growing up in foster care, Emma knew the loneliness and fear that went along with the life. As unofficial as it was, she had managed to supply a home to some of the runaways around the Boston area, providing what food and shelter she could give, as well as all the love her heart might hold. 

She and Killian had been together for nearly 10 months, and he had well managed to gain her trust enough to let him around some of the kids in her charge. Most of the teenagers drifted in an out of the area, stopping by for days at a time every few months. The youngest of the bunch, though, a 13 year old named Henry, came by Emma’s the most. 

His last set of foster parents had been a nasty two- a neglectful and cruel couple who hadn’t even seemed to notice that Henry had run away. The boy himself had spent the last few weeks on Emma’s couch, but eventually decided to return to the home to make sure the other kids were okay. She’d given him his own key for his 13th birthday, and he’d been using it ever since (leaving notes of thanks on the fridge or leaving his comic books strewn across the living room floor). Over the months she’d known him, she’d even managed to teach him some manners, and he’d taken it upon himself to take out the trash and wash the dishes whenever he could. Every once in a while, he’d bring some younger kids from his foster home back for dinner, raiding Emma’s fridge and showing them all the old Disney movies Emma had packed under the coffee table. 

Since Killian had started coming over, though, they’d found their interests in listening to tales of his travels (being an ex-navy man turned history professor, he had his fair share). Emma might have particularly enjoyed brushing the black strands of hair out of his face as he recounted his adventures, pressing a light kiss to his temple and fetching blankets for the kids huddled on the worn-down couch. She’d usually indulge them in steaming mugs of hot chocolate (with cinnamon on top, Henry insisted), and when she had saved up enough for the given month, they’d pile into Killian’s car on voyages to the aquarium or the marina. The older ones, who were more concerned about necessities like caps and gloves for the harsh winter, particularly enjoyed when she’d take them to the store and let them pick out a few things each.

Killian had grown attached to an older boy who shared his brother’s name. Liam was 17 and as nomadic as they came, only stopping by a few times a year or when he was in the area. He had fallen into a bad crowd, and despite Emma’s urgings to get himself straightened out, Liam had been impossible to get through to. That was, until he’d met Killian. The two had similar backgrounds- lost their mothers at a young age, deadbeat fathers- and were immediately inseparable. Killian had even managed to convince Liam to stay with him for a a while. After about three months of living with Killian, he had worked up enough to combine with all his savings to get himself his own place. The last that Emma and Killian heard from him, Liam had enrolled in the police academy in New York and was attempting to right some of his past wrongs. 

And that was simply Killian’s character: headstrong, determined, nurturing, wise- everything Emma had wanted to model for the kids. Having her boyfriend around had certainly made her job a lot easier. Henry, though- he had always been more in tune with Emma, despite Killian’s unfaltering adoration.  

Emma unlocked the gate and turned around to Killian. His dark hair was disheveled from a wind and his cheeks were rosy and pink. He smiled brightly, and kissed her on the cheek.“Have a good night, love.” He told her softly, but she grabbed his arm before he could turn to leave. “Why don’t you stay tonight?” She suggested through a yawn, tugging on the lapels of his heavy coat. He chuckled, and slid his arms around her waist. “You seem a little too tired for that, Swan.” He drawled mischievously lifting an eyebrow. 

“You got that right, pal,” she snorted, “But I don’t want you to take the metro home this late. I’d feel a lot better if you’d stay over. Neither of us have work tomorrow anyway, so we can sleep in late.” 

He nodded, bumping his nose against hers.“I’d love nothing more.” 

The two stumbled through the enclosed front yard, tripping over pots of plants and little garden-gnomes. “Bugger me,” Killian swore as he caught his foot on the jagged porch step. Emma laughed at him, and helped him stable himself. “I swear, Emma, you have to allow me to install garden lights as soon as tomorrow’s sun renders this death-trap of a lawn visible. You simply must.” 

She just rolled her eyes at his whining, and fumbled with her keys to unlock the door. “You could just move in,” She suggested, “Then you’d have full authority over what do do about our death trap lawn.” 

It wasn’t as though they hadn’t talked about it before, they knew they were a permanent thing and both wanted to take the step. The only issue was the location. Emma didn’t care if the house was falling apart. She’d make whatever repairs were necessary; it was her home. Killian, on the other hand, wanted to give her the absolute best that he could, and worried that the house was in a dangerous neighborhood for their potential kids to live. Emma argued that kids already did live with her, and she didn’t want to leave the only home she’d known.

“I think I could live with that.” He told her, and she looked back to him questioningly. “Really? But I thought-” He shook his head.“Emma, you know that I love you. I’d live with you in a bloody rubbish bin if you wanted to.” He stepped forwards, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. A grin broke out onto his face, “Besides, David says you’re the best I can do.” 

Emma laughed and smacked him on the chest. “Hey!” She defended, and he smiled broadly back. “I’m only joking, Swan.” He hummed, leaning down to kiss her. Before he could though, a loud thud sounded from inside the house. 

Emma startled and quickly unlocked the door, rushing inside as soon as she could. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected, but a tumbling Henry collapsing under the open living room window was certainly not it. 

Killian was at his side in an instant, pulling him to his feet and brushing him off.“Are you alright, lad?” He inspected Henry for any injuries, finding only a blotchy purple bruise forming on his cheek. 

Emma cupped the boy’s chin and tilted his head to get a better look. “Who did this to you?” She demanded as Killian closed the open window. 

Henry averted his eyes and shook his head free. “Sorry for coming through the window. Didn’t wanna risk tripping on all the crap in the yard.” He mumbled, and Killian would have sent Emma a pointed look about porch lights if the boy didn’t look so sad. 

“It’s okay, kid,” She told him, pulling him towards the couch, “Sit down, I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” 

Henry nodded, pushing a mess of tangled brown hair out of his eyes. “Due for a shave, aren’t you?” Killian asked as he took a seat next to the boy, hoping to lighten the mood. Henry’s mouth nearly twitched into a smile, but it was gone in an instant. Killian sighed lowly, helping Henry shrug off his jacket. The boy’s shoes were drenched in mud and dirt, soaked through to the socks. 

Henry hissed as he took them off, tossing them onto the mat in the corner of the room that Emma always insisted he wiped his feet on. “Bloody hell, lad, how many puddles did you jump into?” Killian asked Henry as he wrapped the nearest blanket around his shivering form. Henry shrugged, teeth chattering. “I dunno. I was running too fast to keep track.” Killian nodded solemnly and put his arm around Henry, pulling the boy into a hug. Henry leaned immediately into the embrace, burying his head into Killian’s shoulder and clinging tightly to the blanket. Emma met Killian’s worried glance over Henry’s head as she set down a mug of hot chocolate in front of him. 

She rubbed the boys shoulder as he sat up, quickly wrapping his fingers around  the drink and gulping down as much as he could. “Henry, slow down, you’ll choke.” She softly reminded him, and he set the mug back down on the table. 

“Can we watch a movie? Pirates of the Caribbean, maybe?” He asked, his eyes pleading with her. Emma nodded and combed his hair with her fingers. Before her resolve crumbled, she reminded him, “You know the rules, though. You have to tell me what happened, first.”

Emma had a few of these, set just to make sure everyone was safe. The kids had to tell her their real name (no aliases allowed), explain where they got any bumps and bruises, and promise not to steal anything. Emma’s intuitive lie detector (a nifty skill she picked up that the kids had affectionately deemed her ‘superpower’) prevented anyone from escaping the rules, and made for a  safe and open house. 

That didn’t mean the kids always liked it, though. Henry huffed and turned his gaze to the floor. “I went back to check on the others,” He began, and Killian’s arm tightened comfortingly around his shoulder. “Everyone was okay, but…” He choked up a little bit, trying to hold back tears. “Violet got transferred to another house.” Emma patted his hand sympathetically, knowing how upset he must be. Violet was his best friend at the house, and had been his main reason for returning. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” He sobbed out, finally letting his tears fall. 

Killian let go so Emma could hug Henry tightly as he shook, murmuring words of comfort as she patted his back. The boy unwrapped his arms from around her and sniffled, finding his voice again. “She forgot her necklace- the one her dad gave her. I was trying to get it for her, so if I saw her again I could give it back.” He shook his head angrily and  bunched the blanket up in his fists. “Then that dickhead Peter took it from me.” He spat, and Killian grimaced. 

Normally, he’d scold Henry for his language, but this was a special exception. Peter was a bit of a bully at the home, and Killian had encouraged Henry to stand up to him. That had earned Henry a punch to the ribs, and Killian had felt so guilty about it that he bought the boy three different kinds of ice cream. Henry had laughed it off and accepted the ice cream, but still tiptoed around Peter like a scared deer. 

“He flushed it.” Henry eventually choked, glaring daggers at the hot chocolate. “And landed a solid punch,” He finished, motioning to his cheek.  Emma examined it briefly and hummed. “Want me to kick his ass for you?” She joked, and Henry broke his sadness to giggle a little through tears. He sniffed again and nodded, picking his mug back up and drinking the rest of the hot chocolate in one big swallow. “I don’t want to go back there. Ever. The stupid parents didn’t even notice I was gone.” He bit out.

 Killian cleared his throat, standing to fish the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD out from under the table. Emma turned to the young boy, nearly taken aback by how much of herself she saw in him. 

“So don’t.” She told him unwaveringly, and Killian froze. Henry tilted his head in confusion, and blinked his tear-blurred eyes. 

“What do you mean?” He asked her, and though the system had beaten down much of the hope he should have had, Emma was proud to admit that she could see a flicker dancing around in his stare.

Killian looked to Emma for confirmation before finishing her thought. “I believe the lass is asking you to stay here, my boy,” Henry whipped his head to look at him with wide eyes as Killian clarified, “Permanently.”  

Emma saw the slight tremor in Henry’s hands and grabbed them firmly. “I know it’s a big jump, and you’ve only really known us for a year or so,” She quickly told him,��“But I love you, kid, and I want to take care of you. For real.” 

Henry slowly leaned back, wary and a little nervous.“But what happens when social services finds out? They’ll make me go back.” He trembled, and she shook her head.“Not if I’m your legal guardian.” At his awed expression, she forged on, “I mean it, Henry. If you’ll let me, I’ll get the papers, do this all the right way.”

He nodded enthusiastically, flinging his arms around her neck. Henry was getting tall already, nearly 5′7, but he was tiny enough that Emma could still use her weight and leverage to drag him up into a standing hug. 

When Henry pulled back, he glanced curiously between Emma and Killian. “Will you two… I mean…” He started, not quite knowing what to ask. 

Killian grinned broadly, looking proudly at Emma. “I’ll be here, too.” 

“Actually,” She cleared her throat, making her decision, “None of us will be here. I think it’s time we go somewhere new.” She sent Killian a shy look, and whispered conspiratorially to Henry, “What do you think about a little house by the marina?”  

Pirates of the Caribbean ended up discarded on the coffee table, and the mug ended up unwashed. After all, Henry was much too busy to do the dishes, bouncing around the house excitedly with an icepack pressed against his cheek. Killian couldn’t do them, either, for he was on a very important phone call with his landlord about when the lease would be up, and if he knew how easy it was to obtain a marriage license. Emma was busiest of all, certainly, comparing her savings account to a sweet little cottage by the marina, painted in blue with lawn lights. 

#mine #asks #ahhh this was so fun

[myselfinserts]

’ Sarcasm? Whatever do you mean? ’

“Kids! Can you come here please?!”

Ceri and Étienne waited as Odette and Sorley came downstairs. This had been a day they’d been waiting for for a long time. As the kids made themselves comfortable on the couch, the parents looked at each other, nodding in agreement. With a smile, both pulled an egg from behind their backs, presenting them to the children. 

“No way!” Sorely squealed. “We get eggs?!”

“We found them beside my Espeon’s bed,” Étienne explained. “It’s pretty obvious what they’ll be.”

Ceri was beaming. “And you both have been talking starters for weeks. We figured now would be the best time.”

Odette held the egg close. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait for our journeys to start.”

Étienne ruffled her hair. “I’m sure you’ll both be amazing trainers.”

“I plan on being more than a trainer. I’ll be a Champion. Just like papa.”

“I know you’ll make it.”

Sorley looked down at the egg in his lap before turning to Ceri, head tilted with a curious air. “What about you, dad? What was your Pokémon journey like? Was it like papa’s?”

Odette gave her parents a quizzical look. “Yeah. How come we never heard about your time as a trainer, dad?”

Ceri looked at Étienne, who seemed to know exactly where this would be going. He quietly headed to the kitchen, planning to make everyone some hot chocolate. Ceri made himself comfortable between his kids, wrapping his arms around them as his Glaceon came and climbed into his lap. 

“I didn’t get to have a typical Pokémon journey” he began. “But the one I did go on, I think, was pretty interesting. At the very least, it lead me to my beautiful family. I suppose it’s time to tell you about it. And it all started when I was reunited with my starter Eevee. Though he wasn’t an Eevee anymore...”

Ceri winced, watching as the ice filled the room to stop the falling rubble. The fighting was getting too much. He didn’t expect things to get so bad. He just wanted out of the basement. That’s why he put together the Geodes. But he never expected to see this level of carnage. Between quirks and powers flying through the air, he was so certain that he’d die. 

But this Glaceon seemed unusually determined not to let it happen. It jumped between him and the rubble with no fear. He didn’t recognize it from anywhere. It certainly didn’t belong to any of the heroes. But somehow, the way it stared at him felt comforting. Almost familiar. 

A feeling that was solidified when it curled into his arms after stopping the debris. 

“I wish my quirk worked on Pokémon,” he managed. “Do I know you?”

The Glaceon nuzzled him, its cool body soothing against the recent burns on his cheek. When he felt it tap his shoulder three times, the realization dawned on him. The only Pokémon he’d ever known to do that tap was the Eevee his dads had given him. 

“Wynter?” The Glaceon got excited, crying happily and increasing its affection. Ceri smiled, hugging it tightly. “Wynter, holy shit I missed you.”

“Hey kid! Come on!” 

Ceri felt his body being lifted off the ground by Avalloch, getting dragged out of the fray while the fight raged on. As they got out of the battlefield, the Glaceon continued to fight, using its Ice Beam to knock away villains and rubble until they were well past danger. 

Wynter would never leave Ceri’s side again. 

Ceri stared blankly at the pink Pokémon Mrs. Alberi had brought in. As part of his recovery, he would be spending time with Inkwell and his wife, away from the stares of people curious for answers as to his disappearance and sudden physical changes. Wynter hadn’t left his side, and glared any time anyone got too close. 

Ceri gave Wynter a reassuring pet. “What’s up, m’am?”

“I thought you might need a hand around the house,” Aurelia soothed. “So I asked the local Pokémon center for suggestions of an Aid and Shin here was at the top of their list of recommendations. They said Audinos are great for people with hearing difficulties, visual impairments, and anxiety.”

“Right,” Ceri grumbled. “Because that’s all I need help with.”

Aurelia sighed. “Sarcasm will get you nowhere, young man.”

“Sarcasm? Whatever do you mean?”

“Just give Shin a chance, Ceri. You’re going to need a little help once you return home. And Shin was the best in her class.” 

The Audino stepped forward, only to sit down about a meter away from Ceri.  She made a gentle sound, lightly swaying side to side. Her stare was a little unsettling. Almost as though she were waiting for something. 

Ceri didn’t like it one bit. “Why is she doing that?”

Aurelia smiled. “She’s waiting for instructions.”

He scoffed. “What, like ‘please get me a glass of water”?”

Immediately, the Audino jumped to her feet and scurried to the kitchen. When she came back moments later, she was holding a glass. It was filled almost to the top with ice water. There was a straw, and even a lemon slice on the edge of the cup. She held it out to Ceri, giving him a cheerful chirp as he finally took it. 

He had to admit, he was impressed. He hadn’t even thought to add the lemon. 

“I...guess I’ll give her a chance,” Ceri conceded. “But just while I’m staying here. No promise that I’ll take her with when I go home.”

Aurelia gave him a pat on the head. “Thank you. Now, I have to get back to work. So if you need anything, just call me or ask Shin.” She left him alone in the living room with the Audino and headed back to her office. 

Ceri looked at the Audino, taking a sip of the water. “Do...you know where they keep the cookies?”

Inkwell had given him a Ralts before he left the Alberi house. Said something about it growing into a good fighter to protect him. Ceri didn’t believe it at first, but when it had evolved into Kirlia after trying, and failing, to kick out a rowdy customer at the Secret Felines, he started to see what the hero had meant. This creature had a strong desire to protect. Very much like the heroes that frequented his establishment. He’d given him the name Sander, which he seemed to like.

Sander was an excellent guard. He checked the house whenever they came home, and always inspected the pub before they officially opened. He stayed beside Ceri at night, and fought off the occassional punk who thought it’d be a wise choice to mock his scars. His little Kirlia was incredibly powerful. 

So much so, that Ceri couldn’t help but wonder.

One night, he was staying late to close up shop. Shin the Audino was putting chairs up, while Wynter was busy preparing to make new ice for tomorrow. Sander was busy cleaning tables and bringing dishes to be washed. 

I think it’s time.

“Sander?”

Sander set the dishes down, looking up at him curiously. Ceri knelt down until they were eye to eye, his gaze soft and reassuring. He rarely had these kind of talks with his Pokémon, but this was something that had to be discussed. 

“I’ve had a lot of customers asking why you haven’t evolved,” Ceri explained. “And I’ve noticed how you kind of look sad afterwards. I know a lot of them keep saying ‘he should be a Gardevoir by now”, but I just want you to know that I don’t care if you evolve or not. What matters to me is that you are doing okay. So if you need anything, even if it’s just a hug or a special treat, feel free to ask, okay? You’re part of this family, and if there’s anything I can do to make you happy, please tell me.”

Sander looked at the floor for a moment before hurrying into the office. He came back carrying a magazine, opening it to a section on Evolution Stones. Ceri looked it over, reading through the list of Pokémon each stone worked with. 

It became obvious once he reached the Dawn Stone. 

“You want to be a Gallade,” he said. Sander nodded, throwing his arms up like the Gallade in the magazine. Ceri laughed, giving him a light pet. “Lucky for you, I think we got a couple in the tip jar.” He quickly hurried to the jar, digging through the money and items, pulling out every stone that had been left that night. When he finally reached the bottom, he found it. “One Dawn Stone.” He held it out to Sander. “You sure this is what you want?”

Sander nodded, stepping forward and taking the stone in his hands. His body began to glow, a blinding light filling the pub as his body grew and morphed. When the light finally faded, the tiny Kirlia was no more, and a proud Gallade stood in his place. Sander knelt before him, regal and determined. 

Ceri pulled him to his feet. “You’re family. Family does not have to kneel here.”

Sander stared at him for a moment before giving him a hug. After making sure things would be fine without him, he hurried out of the pub to do a quick border inspection. 

Ceri couldn’t stop beaming.

It was the grand opening of the new Secret Felines location. And Ceri had no idea what to wear. Étienne was busy making breakfast, and had laid out three outfits for Ceri to choose from. 

Three two many if you were to ask him. 

“God, this is going to be tough,” he grumbled. He sat on the bed, looking over the outfits carefully. They were all the same, with the only differences being the colors. One was navy with a lovely red vest and matching eyepatch with delightful gold detailing, another was a lovely dark brown and accented with soft hues of blue. The third was black, with a perfect shade of lavender for the tie and patch embroidered in silver. 

That am I doing? This is going to be horrible. This isn’t going to work at all and I’ll have to file for bankruptcy and move back home and-

A soft mew snapped him from his thoughts and he looked over at the bed in the corner. The Delkatty he’d gotten for his birthday was stretching, giving him a stern look as she made her way over to him. With a strong hop, she looked over the outfits, laser focused and serene. 

“Which one do you think I should wear then, Prim?” he asked. 

Prim stared at him before curling up to sleep on the navy and brown suits, leaving the black free from her nap. 

Ceri let out a huff. “I suppose this one it is then.” He took the outfit and quickly got changed. As he adjusted the patch in the mirror, he couldn’t help but find himself looking rather nice. 

Almost handsome. 

“I guess this is the perfect outfit.” He went over to sit beside Prim, lightly petting her sleek fur. It was soft, soothing, and perfectly pristine. “If you weren’t asleep, I’d ask you to join me for the grand opening. I think it’d be nice for photo ops.”

Prim’s head bolted up. 

“Oh, now you wake up,” Ceri teased. “Yeah, you little model. Wanna be part of the event? There’s probably gonna be a couple of people taking photos. And maybe you can be part of the photographs being taken for the upcoming ad campaign.” 

Prim purred gently, climbing into his arms. Ceri chuckled, standing up and heading out the door. 

“Let’s go then.”

“HOLY SHIT!”

“CERI?! WHAT HAPPENED?!”

Ceri stumbled out of the kitchen, trying to escape the floating ball of goo that had come in through the window. Ever since he’d opened the new Secret Felines, he’d noticed this strange creature hovering around the establishment. He’d tried to shoo it away, but it kept coming back. 

And now it was here, following him as his husband came running down the stairs. 

“This thing just came in through the kitchen window!” Ceri bellowed. “It’s been following me since the grand opening!”

Étienne went over tothe case of empty Pokéballs, pulling out a Luxury Ball. "So what is theproblem here? Just catch it."

Ceri gave him a pointedlook. "Étienne, this Pokémon has been stalking me for the last three daysand it finally decided to follow me home and sneak in through the kitchenwindow. You don't think that's a problem?"

"Not at all. Didyou check what Pokémon this is?"

"Well…no. My Pokédexis being repaired, remember?"

"Well, let's checkthen." Étienne pulled out his Pokédex, letting it scan the Pokémon for amoment. "Here we go."

The Pokédex lit up,showing an image of the creature before them.

"Milcery, theCream Pokémon. ThisPokémon was born from sweet-smelling particles in the air. Its body is made ofcream. They say that any patisserie visited by Milceryis guaranteed success and good fortune."

Ceri wascompletely taken aback. He watched as the Milcery floated over to theChandelure, making light chips happily as it got a response. All the stressthat was building over the last few days seemed to vanish in an instant. As hewatched the Pokémon interact, Étienne wrapped hisarms around him, slipping the Pokéballs into his hands.

"Go ahead,"he encouraged. "Catch the good luck charm. I'm sure she'll make awonderful addition to the new Secret Felines."

With a deep breath, Ceri took the ball and stepped forward. His hands were shaking, but he steeled his nerves and threw it at the Milcery. It was absorbed into the ball, which fell to the ground with a thud. It began to shake and roll, the small light flashing red. 

Come on, he prayed. Please work. Please, prove me wrong. 

The Luxury Ball stopped moving. There was a soft click. And a light flash of green. 

Étienne grinned, pulling Ceri into a tender embrace. “Some of the best places I’ve been to have had one of these stalking their establishments. I’m surprised it took so long for you to get one.”

“Do you think the superstition is true?”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.” He kissed him softly. “At least, I hope for once a superstition is real.You deserve some good fortune.”

Ceri smiled. “I already have all the fortune I could ask for with you.”

The rest of the evening was spent getting comfortable with Milcery, familiarizing her with the rest of the family Pokémon and reading up on how other businesses worked one into their staff. Étienne promised to see about purchasing the sweets needed to evolve her later. 

But for now, everything was finally relaxing. 

“This species lives in antique teapots. Most pots are forgeries, but on rare occasions, an authentic work is found. Leaving leftover black tea unattended is asking for this Pokémon to come along and pour itself into it, turning the tea into a new Polteageist.”

He’d warned his papa not to leave his tea unattended for too long. A recent increase in Ghost Pokémon in the area, it would only be a matter of time until one made itself at home in the ironically haunted Aylward house. And it kept making more. And more. With every cup of tea and pot of leaves left alone. Soon, Gary had no room for himself and the cats. 

“Alright,” Ceri sighed. “Time to clean house.” He summoned his Audino and Glaceon, knowing that the Ghost typing wouldn’t hurt Shin. And while Shin distracted the Polteageists, Wynter would attack the particularly stronger ones with a chill and make it easy to catch. But this was only if the Quick balls didn’t work. 

“I’ll take the upstairs,” he said. “Étienne, do you mind handling the lower levels?”

“I can more than handle it,” Étienne assured, summoning his Absol and Liepard. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t forget to check them for authenticity.”

“Like I’d forget that.”

With one last parting kiss, Ceri headed upstairs and began to clear room by room. Shin distracted, and Wynter attacked when needed. It took them no time to clean out the bathroom, finding not a single Antique form among the haul. This was the same case with the guest rooms and the closets. The master bedroom was filled to the brim with these and a few Sinisteas. But none of them had that special mark. 

It wasn’t that they really wanted one. But there were rumors on the island that finding one could allow you a chance to speak with the dead. If the rumors about Milcery and Alchremie were true, then there might be some truth to the one growing around Polteageist. Ceri wasn’t holding much hope though. Sometimes something was just that. A rumor. 

It took them nearly three hours to clear the entire house’s lower levels. The basement was filled to bursting, and the garden and green house were practically nonexistent. But by sunset, they’d cleared out almost all of them. 

The only place left was the attic. 

“I don’t know how much more my Pokémon can take,” Ceri sighed. “Just one spot left but...” He looked at Shin and Wynter. “Poor things, they’re exhausted.”

“Angie and Lady Velours are growing tired as well,” Étienne agreed. “Let’s take a break and debate our options. I’d rather not have to bring out our other Pokémon if it can be avoided.”

Ceri looked at the hatched to the attic. “It’s...unusually quiet.”

Étienne raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s empty?”

“Maybe. I think I’ll go take a look myself. Just in case.”

“...Alright. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

With a steady breath, Ceri pulled down the hatch, opening the ladder, and made the climb up into the attic. He hadn’t gone up there in a while, so as he got in, he tried had to try not to sneeze. There were thick layers of dust on the boxes, some cobwebs in the rafters, and there was a stack of old newspapers as well.  He made a note to clean up later. 

Ceri explored the attic slowly, smiling as he read labels of old boxes. Some had his father’s name on them, along with little doodles he had drawn on them as a child. There were probably a lot of old things that needed sorted. 

Things that the little Polteageist he found near the far end seemed interested in. 

Ceri found him in one of the few open boxes, examining some of Jason Aylward’s old hero gear with a nostalgic curiosity to its eyes. He tried to put some of the pieces on, looking at a photo that hung on the wall and trying to mimic the pose the hero in the image was doing. 

“Hello,” he called softly. 

The Polteageist gasped, spinning around and dropping the hero gear to the ground. It shook in fear, hiding mostly in its pot as Ceri slowly approached. 

Ceri held out a hand to it. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” He looked at the photo, a forlorn smile on his face. “That’s my dad. He was really brave.” 

The Polteageist looked at the photo, then back to Ceri before floating over to him. He let Ceri hold him, nuzzling into a comfortable position before he looked back at the photo. 

“Yeah,” Ceri sighed. “He was a good man...Papa and I will tell you all about him, I promise.” 

He managed to coax the Polteageist into a ball and took him downstairs. 

He didn’t notice until later that it had the mark.

“My journey ended up being far more domestic in the end,” Ceri concluded. “But it was still a journey I hold very dearly in my heart.”

Sorley and Odette looked up at him in aw. Odette in particular seemed completely drawn into the story. The two sipped on their cocoa, taking a glance at the eggs still in their laps. 

“So we could have a Pokémon journey that doesn’t have to be an epic battle to be champion?” she asked. 

“That’s right,” Étienne confirmed. “No matter what path you take, you still make your own journey. It doesn’t have to be a battle of legendary proportions.”

Sorley smiled. “That’s cool.” He tilted his head slightly. “Can you still battle though?”

Ceri chuckled. “Of course I can. I’m still a trainer, and trainers come to battle me at the SF all the time.”

“Then can we have a battle once I’ve got a full team?”

“Me too?” Odette asked. 

“Of course,” Ceri promised. “Once you both are ready, we’ll have a battle.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking about different team combinations and what they wanted their Eevees to eventually evolve into. Ceri listened to his family talk, letting the feeling of peace wash over him. 

Yeah. My journey was something special.

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #class of aus: Quirkymon #I HAVE FEELS IN THIS CHILIS TONIGHT #Anonymous