#but i think its alright i suppose. second guy's a sketch for something else i might post here

[deep-space-atomic-clock]

gearboy :)

#first one's like. a month old #but i think its alright i suppose. second guy's a sketch for something else i might post here #maybe when i finish the mod. #guilty gear #asuka r kreutz #it's always the art tag #radio navigation

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4​

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x female reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled! #sugar fics

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Breathing - Aragorn x reader (modern!AU)

hi! could you do prompt #53 with a female reader and aragorn? thank you!

@elvish-sky​ oh joy, another sad aragorn fic (jk jk). i wanted to write this one as a modern!AU because of some research i was doing before school ended for science and ... i just thought of the concept and liked it, okay hush

53. “You said you were okay!”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Aragorn x reader (modern!AU) Summary: Y/N hasn’t been entirely honest with her boyfriend, Aragorn. Warnings: angst, sadness, death, Word Count: 1,704 words

Y/N laughed loudly as the black Newfoundland puppy chased its fluffy tail, the dark fur sticking up as though it had been struck by lightning. 

Aragorn grinned at her, taking yet another long moment to watch her - to savour everything about his beautiful girlfriend. Just like every time she giggled, he wanted the seconds to last forever. He wanted every day he got to be with Y/N to last forever, because one day, they would be unable to make new memories. 

One day sooner than he would like. 

He tugged the sleeves of his RSPCA volunteer jacket down as he sat by her side, whistling for the dog to come and sit by his side. It obliged, just as all the animals in the shelter, or anywhere, always did.

Animal whisperer, Y/N would tease him. Like Doctor Dolittle!

Aragorn looked to her again, the smile still on Y/N’s face. Flushed s/c cheeks. Hooded e/c eyes with heavy bags under them, yet she still looked beauty. H/l messy h/c hair, kept out of her face by a f/c ribbon.

Then, the things people tended to stare at. The bag by her side, much like the wheeled kind some people used to shop. The nose cannula hooked behind her ears, a long tube carrying oxygen from the bag. A surgery scar protruding from her f/c shirt’s neckline. 

Those things didn’t bother him. He loved her. 

“Are you okay?”

Aragorn blinked at Y/N’s question. Normally he was the one asking her that question, or supposed to be. “I-I’m perfect.”

She smiled again. “That’s good.”

He stood, pulling her to her feet as well. “Come on. My shift’s up.”

Y/N jokingly pouted. “But the puppies!”

This time, it was Aragorn who laughed. “We’ll come back next week, I promise.”

“Next week,” she echoed, a sadness in her voice that her boyfriend didn’t detect.

---

Y/N coughed, making a face as the last of her pills went down her throat. She took dozens every day - it was part of her necessary, pre-determined hospital routine. 

Her nurse, Legolas, (A/N - stan male nurses) passed her some water, which she gladly swallowed, hacking again. 

“Good job,” he grinned. “Everything’s doing okay. Lung function is at 54 percent, a little lower than last week, but it will get higher again.”

She’d definitely expected that, though her heart still sunk.

“I’ll let your boyfriend in now.” Legolas laughed at the annoyed look on his charge’s face. The sound faded as he took on a more serious tone. “But, you remember that it could get even worse anytime, especially-”

“I know,” Y/N interrupted, her voice scratched and broken. “I know.”

“Be careful,” the nurse reminded her again, as he left the room, Aragorn passing through the door before it could even swing shut. 

“Going alright?”

Y/N grimaced. “As well as can be expected. I hate my lungs.”

He took her hand, squeezing it tightly, like he would never, could never, let go. “I know you’re strong, Y/N/N. You can’t let CF beat you.”

Ah, yes. There it was - the casual reminder Y/N couldn’t go a day without hearing. Stressing how she was holding her life in an hourglass, which was rapidly running out of time.

Cystic Fibrosis. An often terminal lung condition, meaning Y/N’s lungs functioned at low percentages, causing difficulty in her breathing and weakened immune system. She was often lucky to spend more than a month out of the hospital, thought that hadn’t been the case recently.

She’d been continually relapsing, her lung function decreasing with every checkup. 

To put it simply, it sucked. Royally. 

“Here,” Aragorn offered her her nose cannula. “Hook up, and I’ll distract you.”

Y/N slipped it on, taking his hand and dragging her portable oxygen in The Granny Shopping Bag™️ with the other. smiling.

Well, at least, her mask was smiling. Inside, she didn’t know if she had the energy or will to anymore.

---

Y/N knew it was a risk, and she was exactly aware of the million and one ways this could go wrong. 

But she didn’t care. She was going to live whilst she still could. She was done with giving up her life, letting down her boyfriend, because of some stupid mucus. 

Besides, he didn’t know. He didn’t know it all, and she wasn’t going to stop them from being unable to make happy memories together by burdening him with more bad news. Being the protective guy he was, Aragorn probably wouldn’t even let her leave the hospital if her found out.

“Ready?” said-boyfriend-in-question asked.

“Hell yeah,” Y/N grinned, straightening the edges of her denim jacket. 

They stood at the archway entrance to the Rivendell National Park - a beautiful wonderland of pale trees and swirling leaves, in the deep of autumn.

Technically, Y/N wasn’t meant to engage in ‘prolonged physical activity’. But technically, she wasn’t even meant to be alive right now.

No one, least of all her, knew how much time she had left. Y/N wasn’t one to waste it. 

Together, she and Aragorn stepped through the archway, and explored the ‘whole new realm’.

---

After ten minutes, her lungs were burning, but she didn’t say anything.

Aragorn was looking so happy - a goofy smily affixed upon his face, his dark eyes lighting up as he swished his head from side to side to admire everything with childish wonder. 

The National Park was beautiful, but the air was thin, and Y/N was struggling not to audibly struggle. She hated being dependent on people, and she would. Not. Worry. Him.

Something felt different this time - her breathing was quickening even though she was walking extraordinarily slowly, and she was in more pain than she should’ve been

Y/N signalled for Aragorn to stop, doubling over and coughing until her throat was raw. She couldn’t breathe whilst the mucus was crawling up her airways, and she’d rather clear it than suffer.

“Get it out, Y/N,” Aragorn encouraged her as she straightened, worry sketched all over his face. 

Her coughing was done, and she went to take a nice big inhale, but ....

She.

Still.

Couldn’t.

Breathe.

Breathing should’ve been something natural, easy, if she had been just a normal young woman with her normal boyfriend. 

She wished that lying didn’t come to her easier than breathing.

Y/N collapsed, choking, almost about to pass out as Aragorn immediately fell to her side, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialling an emergency number.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, his breaths coming shortly as well as he scooped her up into his arms. “Oh, God. Y-You’re going to be okay, Y/N.”

Funny how good they’d both become at lying.

With that thought, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, without the energy to keep themselves open.

“Y/N!”

---

Aragorn sat in the waiting room with a feeling like acid being poured down his throat and then regurgitated. 

She shouldn’t have collapsed like that - it was highly medically improbable given what he knew about Y/N and her Cystic Fibrosis. Unless ... there was something he didn’t know.

He shook his head as soon as that thought came to him. He trusted Y/N. She trusted him. He had to have faith in her.

The sound of footsteps encouraged him to look sideways, where he saw Y/N’s nurse, Legolas, with four cups of coffee in his arms.

“Expecting someone else?” Aragorn laughed as he was handed one of the cups.

“Oh, no,” Legolas replied, with an unbelievably straight face. “I intend to drink all the coffee.”

“How is Y/N?��� 

The nurse winced. “I will be honest with you - she isn’t going so well right now. The fact that she was still walking with you ... that’s pretty amazing given her lung function and diagnosis.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn furrowed his eyebrows. “She-she’s fine, isn’t she?”

Legolas stared. “Y/N didn’t tell you, did she? Oh, that stubborn little-”

“Tell me what?”

He averted Aragorn’s eyes. “Tell you that she was diagnosed with Burkholderia Cepacia and she was given another six months to live with her current lung function.”

“What?” All the air rushed out of his lungs, and suddenly, he knew how Y/N felt when it was hard for her to breathe. “H-How long has it been?”

Again, the blond looked awkwardly to the floor.

“How long?!” It was a shout this time, and Aragorn could feel himself on the brink of tears. His beautiful girlfriend, lost to the void ... he could not cope with it.

“Seven months.”

He fell back in his chair, coffee discarded, his shaking hands covering his face as his cheeks dripped with tears. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening.

A doctor rushed out from the ER, making a beeline for Legolas. Her nametag read ‘Tauriel’, her long red hair flying behind her as she ran towards them.

Her face was sober.

“He-he should come. Now.” She motioned towards Aragorn who stood immediately.

“Is Y/N alright?”

Dr. Tauriel did not answer his question, just motioning for him to follow her. 

---

Y/N wasn’t moving. For such a joyful young woman, she was lying unbelievably still. 

There was a crowd of doctors around her, but they all moved back at the sight of Aragorn.

“I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t know who said it ... all he could think about was how much paler Y/N looked than her normal s/c. 

“She-she’s just a-asleep, r-right?” Aragorn stuttered on the words as more tears fell down his face. “Y/N’s o-okay?”

Dr. Tauriel shook her head. “I’m so sorry. We-we couldn’t do anything.”

“You said you were okay!” Aragorn cried, talking to Y/N even though she couldn’t hear him - would never hear him again. Jut like he would never hear her. “You told me you were okay ...”

“Get him out of here,” someone said quietly, and Aragorn was pulled to the door.

He threw one final look over his shoulder. 

Y/N’s hair was spread out over the pillow. Her hands had been folded over her chest. She still had her nose cannula in, but that had never made her less beautiful.

Even in death, she still looked like an angel.

She was still the most beautiful person Aragorn had ever known.

A/N - guys this is my new favourite fic so please spread it! @elvish-sky​ thank you so much for this request, and everyone, thank you for reading!

#aragorn #modern!aragorn #modern!au #au #lotr au #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn x reader #x reader #modern!aragorn x reader #you

[dear-mrs-otome]

Aanleggen - Ikevamp (Theo)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: MC x Theo Summary: A short illustrated birthday fic for the birthday boy! The incomparable, amazing, talented and lovely @nan-chi​ and I wanted to do something to commemorate the younger van Gogh, and this is the result! 1500 words of fluff and fantastic art!

~~~~~~

There were few things Theo hated more than secrets.

His own - those were fine. But the secrets of others always unsettled him, even as he recognized the hypocrisy of this. And the secrets of Vincent…

Now that was an irritation of a new sort.

Stewing on this, Theo lifted a bite from the syrup-sogged stack before him and chewed, his eyes never leaving the two heads huddled together at one end of the table.

“Kinda cute, aren’t they?” Arthur slung himself into the seat beside Theo, newspaper slapping atop the table as he gestured in the direction of the two with his coffee cup. “The lovebirds,” he explained to Theo’s arched brow.

“The what?” The bite in his mouth turned suddenly and inexplicably dry. “That’s it. You’ve finally lost what little sense you were born with.”

Arthur, studying his face, let the smirk he’d been fighting finally win. “Don’t believe me?” He leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief and his voice pitched low. “I’ve seen her go into his room at least two nights a week the entire past month.”

“At night?”

Arthur nodded, once. Meaningfully. “Late.”

The only answer he could scrape together was a carefully uninterested grunt, turning his attention back to the plate before him. But the pancakes he’d already eaten congealed heavily in his stomach, like wet concrete, and he busied himself with straightening the napkin laid beside his place setting.

How had he missed that?

He wasn’t sure what bothered him more - the fact that he had? The fact that Vincent had taken a lover? Or the fact that...

...The fact that it was her.

He pulled the feeling out, turning it over and over, before realizing it stung. Like saltwater, lapping over an open wound.

It hurt.

But that was alright. Hurt, he could handle. It was a familiar, old friend. From split knuckles to bruises, from the envy-whittled darts that had struck true before his skin had thickened to the regrets that kept him up some nights. He was no stranger to pain.

This too, would pass.

------

But like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws, Arthur’s words wouldn't let him go.

He stood and stared at the wooden panels of her door, as if the answer lay somewhere in the swirls and whorls of woodgrain, before lifting his hand to knock.

"Hondje? You in there?"

There was no answer for a moment, but he could hear the faint rustling of someone moving around on the other side. "Theo?"

"Yeah, look, I -" He jammed his hands in his pockets, a rush of restlessness washing over him. He wasn't sure he'd ever looked forward to and dreaded a conversation so much. "You got a minute?"

"Oh! I….yes, just…" Her voice was pitched a half-octave higher suddenly, shrill with something like panic that set him on edge - especially when he could hear her bustling around. "Hold on. One second. I'm -"

Her words dissolved into a small shriek, as he heard a heavy thud from the other side, and decorum took a backseat to concern as he pushed the door open in a rush. "Hondje?! You okay?"

His gaze darted about. Same pink frilly room, spotlessly organized. Nothing out of order save for the easel in one corner and a canvas, now face down on the floor and her standing over it, dropcloth still in her wringing hands as she looked up at him guiltily.

He blinked at it a moment, heart twisting like a gibbet in his chest. A painting from Vincent? One he hadn't seen either?

He brushed off the fresh handful of salt on the wound, and plastered a smirk on his face. "Dropped your toy, Hondje."

"No, that's-!" She cried in dismay, as he reached to lift it back onto its easel. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."

He frowned, taking in the way her entire body seemed to droop. If she were a pup in truth, her tail would be hanging between her legs at that moment. 

“Why?” He bit back the bitter words that tried to follow. “Something secret between you and Vincent?”

He forced a chuckle then, although it scraped raw in his throat like sandpaper. “I was kinda hoping you guys would have told me yourselves about this but…” he began, as he lifted the piece back into place on its easel.

And then the rest of his comment died away, as he got a look at the painting. He knew immediately it wasn’t one of Vincent’s works - the brushstrokes were all wrong. Clumsy, perhaps a bit, but Vincent’s influence was there in the texture and colors. 

And it was -

He blinked, bemused. “Is this...King?”

“Yeah. Or well, it’s supposed to be, but I guess it obviously is if you could recognize it. Although I know the anatomy needs some work and the shading - golden fur is hard to get just right, and he wouldn’t hold still. I must have sketched him twenty times, I don't know how people work without photographs for reference." She was babbling, and he recognized the nerves eating at her in the way she worked the cloth between her hands over and over. “You weren’t supposed to see it until tonight though, after your birthday dinner.”

An awful, magnificent understanding dawned on him. “Did Vincent help you with this?”

“Yes, I...used to draw and paint a little back home, just as a hobby you know. And when Vincent reminded me it was your birthday soon, I couldn’t think of what to get you.” He watched with keen interest as a blush rose charmingly on her cheeks, spreading nearly to her neck as she went on. “But I know you love art, and you love King…so I thought maybe you’d forgive bad art if it was a subject you liked so much.”

"This is what you’ve been doing in his room the past few weeks?" A breathless sort of anticipation made itself at home, in the confines of his chest, as he asked the question he hoped he already knew the answer to.

She nodded, opening her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

"So you and Vincent aren't lovers."

"What?" She squeaked, her eyes flown wide with dismay. "No! Vincent and I? Why would I...I mean I can see why…" She trailed off, then found her footing again. "But no. Definitely not. I…"

She fumbled to a halt again, her eyes sliding up to meet his before bouncing away, and he wondered if he was imagining the way her blush shaded from crimson to carmine.

"I see." He took a step closer, watching with amusement as she took a wary, answering one back. More rabbit than pup in this moment. He took pity on her, and turned to look over the painting. "Let's see this closer then."

He made a show of pulling his ever-present magnifying lens from a pocket, bending to examine the work up close. His initial assessment had been right - sloppy strokes, the color muddied in a few places, the perspective just faintly off. And yet…

And yet...the warmth squeezing in his heart whispered what he already knew. It was the best painting he'd ever seen, flaws and all. 

Because it was hers.

Because she'd made it for him.

He straightened, clearing the sentimental knot from his throat. "Your composition could use some work. The shading, too. But…" A smile ghosted across his lips, as he reached out to tousle her hair gently. "It's a good painting. You've got some talent, hondje."

"You like it?" Her mouth rounded into a surprised o, and he had to stifle the urge to shout how much he loved it.

"Yeah. It's not bad, not bad at all." He smirked at her. "Although King elevates any scene, right? And you clearly have a good teacher."

“The best,” she agreed. 

His hand was still atop her head, fingers snared in the soft strands of her hair as he looked down at her. Suddenly and acutely aware of the small space between them and the upturned tilt of her face - her pretty mouth just begging to be sampled.

It was his birthday. Maybe he would be forgiven for wanting to give himself one gift.

“I like it. A lot.” He murmured, and that fetching blush rose on her cheeks again. “But I can think of something else I’d like for my birthday too.”

“You can?” She frowned, her lips pursing adorable. “What?”

And that little moue was all the impetus he needed to lean down and cover her lips with his, swallowing down her small sound of surprise. His arms coming around her body as she stiffened, only to feel her melting against him moments later.

“Happy Birthday, Theo,” she managed, when he’d drawn back to take a breath. Her fingers still clutching at his sleeves and her eyes alight with something he flattered himself was happiness. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t bother trying to smother his grin, just before ducking down to steal her lips again, stoking the slow blaze of a fire he knew would take all night - if not a lifetime - to burn itself out. “Yeah. It is now, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~

Thank you once again to @nan-chi​ for being an absolute delight of a person - it was a pleasure and an honor to work with you! <3 I hope you all enjoyed our humble offerings to this sweet man!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp theo #ikevam theodorus #ikevam theo #theodorus van gogh #nan-chi #my writing #fanart #happy birthday theo #you deserve the world

[shhh-no-ones-home]

model citizen ricky horror x reader

+++++++++

college au

prompt: Character A sitting in a college 7am lecture and Character B sitting next to them pouring an energy drink into their coffee and says, "I'm going to die." (First interaction)

Song: pretty little distance by as it is

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @theoneandonlykymberlee @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @thisplace-ishaunted @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @xyours-eternallyx

+++++++++

i walked into the room and huffed as i took my seat, reaching into my bag for my notebook and a pen. i hated having a 9am again and missed being able to sleep-in like i did last semester. this was the first day though and i was hopeful my mind would change about it as the course went on. it probably wouldnt though. i sat there, catching a few more students walk in as i looked down at my phone.

nothing was too exciting yet and the teacher hadnt even shown up. i was more-so ready for the new art class though. it was my major after all and i was pretty well known by the professors at this point. as i sat there, a loud clatter grabbed my attention, making me look to my right. there was sat a shorter, skinny kid, with long inky black hair tucked under a beanie. my eyes went wide as he cracked the monster in his hand open, pouring it into his half=full trenta cup from Starbucks. he looked over at me and smiled.

"im going to die."

he said in the most sure-fire tone before putting the lid back on the cup and chugging it. i sat there in horror staring at him.

"are you okay?"

i asked and he shrugged, looking at me over the top of the cup. he had the bluest eyes i had ever seen, even in the low light of the art room. i was a little start struck for a second before shaking myself out of my daze, watching him put the cup down against the desk with a thud.

"if i pass out during class just push me out of the way and ill figure something out later."

he said, turning forward. i went to say something just as the teacher walked in.

"y/n! good to see you back. we missed you last semester."

professor crane said, looking to the student teacher as he ducked behind him and paced quickly to the front desk. his gaze followed him too before he shrugged and turned back to me with a smile.

"whatever, im sure he missed you too. but either way its good to have you back in class and i look forward to seeing what you come up with for the showcase in march."

i nodded with a smile before he walked away to the front of the class, instructing everyone to take their seats.

"you come here often?"

i heard from the kid next to me, hearing him laugh to himself as he took another drink of his coffee/monster concoction.

"yes, actually. im an art major."

i said a little dumbfounded. he nodded.

"cool, im here for film."

i drew my brows.

"youre doing film?"

i asked and he winked at me, looking to Brian as he turned the projector on. i opened my mouth before closing it quickly, feeling a little more confused than before.

"alright, first things first. i only make a syllabus because administration says i have to. the schedule is shit and we will most likely be doing something completely different so i suggest you keep a planner or something to keep track of your assignments. secondly, i will get to it later but i want you to start thinking about your projects for the spring showcase in march. we have a few short months so after you learn the basics of form you will be instructed to sketch something in your own style and present it to the board."

my mind went in and out after that, trying to catch quick glances at the kid next to me without being suspicious. every time he moved i could feel my heart pulse, giving me anxiety that he could actually pass out or something.

"y/n, your partner for this project will be mr olson."

brian said, standing over me and looking between the two of us. i nodded with wide eyes as he moved to the two kids behind us.

"guess that means we have pretty high chances at getting an A."

he said, raising his cup in cheers. i looked down at the assignment sheet, grazing over it and groaning. we had to come up with a comic strip in different style parts; the first panel a base sketch, the second panel a hard sketch, the third panel color blocking, and so on. god this was gonna be a nightmare.

"you dont seem too enthused."

the kid said amused. i sent him a testing look.

"im not, ive done something similar before and you have to get every step just right or they take points off. and we have to prove what parts we did."

i said, rolling my eyes. i looked over to him, blinking as a camera flash went off. i drew my brows as he looked down at the screen on it.

"where did you even get that?"

i asked, trying to inspect him. he sent me a smile.

"i always keep it on me. im ricky by the way, and you look great."

he said amused and i breathed deeply.

"y/n."

i said, looking back to the paper.

"well y/n i think this is going to be a great partnership-"

"alright!"

brian called, cutting him off.

"you have your assignments. i have nothing else for you today so you are welcome to either stay here and work until class time is over or you can leave and work on it on your own time. i dont really care either way, just get it done."

i hummed to myself before stuffing my notebook and the assignment sheet into my bag and standing up. i caught a glimpse of ricky starting at me with wide eyes as i turned to leave.

"what are you doing?"

he asked and i looked between him and the door, pointing at it.

"leaving, its not due for another week."

i started off, hearing him shuffle around before chasing after me.

"hey wait! cant we like plan what we're doing or something?"

he asked and i shrugged, looking over to him as he tried to put his paper in his backpack and hold the camera and cup of coffee. i stopped, staring at him as he struggled. i rolled my eyes, taking the cup and the camera from him. he looked to me in shock and i raised my brows.

"get to it, i dont have all day."

i said and he finished what he was doing, zipping his bag up and slinging it over it shoulder. i handed him the cup and camera back and kept walking.

"so uh, what kind of thing did you have in mind for this project?"

he asked and i looked to the sky, squinting but trying to think as we made it outside.

"i dont know, maybe a ball of some kind?"

he raised a brow, shuffling his feet as he tried to keep up with my long strides.

"like masks and large dresses?"

he asked and i nodded, opening the door to dinging hall.

"something like that yeah."

he nodded as i led us to a table.

"that sounds cool, i could get behind that."

i sent him a knowing look.

"you seem like the kind of guy who would."

i said, pulling my sketchpad out. he raised a brow, sitting beside me.

"whats that supposed to mean?"

he asked and i sent him  a look.

"im assuming you like vampires, and the Edwardian thing usually goes hand in hand with that."

he sent me a nervous smile.

"is it that obvious?"

he asked, rubbing his hands against his pants. i nodded.

"thats okay though, cause i like them too. so much so that i have costumes already, we can pose for each other. i think youd look great in this."

i said, sliding my phone across the table to show him the outfit i had for it. i just hoped it would fit him.

"you seem like youve been planning this for a while."

he said through a laugh and i shrugged.

"i just like to feel fancy, the projects on the other hand kind of fall into my lap."

i said, flipping through a few pages in my book. he placed his hand on one before taking it from me and looking over it.

"this looks insane."

he said and i looked around awkwardly.

"in a good way?"

i asked, finding his gaze.

"oh! yeah! of course in a good way. it looks super cool. i see why you wanted to do the ball thing now."

he commented, noting the sketch i had done already that was similar. it is what i was used to after all. he set the book back down in front of me and sent me a wide smile, picking his camera up and taking another picture of me.

"why do you do that?"

i asked and he laughed.

"i need models for my art and i think now that we've met you would be a great subject."

i set him a look, trying to hide the blush creeping its way up my neck.

"you really think so?"

i asked bashfully and he nodded.

"oh yeah, absolutely. and now that we're partners i think it will give me ample opportunity to find a new muse. you wanna be a subject for a music video?"

i sat back, a little taken aback.

"you want me to do what?"

i asked and he laughed, putting the camera on the table.

"in about a month my band is gonna need some girls for a video but its cool if not. i can live with us just being art project partners."

i cleared my throat, rubbing my hands together under the table.

"how about we get through this first and ill get back to you on that?"

he smiled knowingly at me, raising his coffee to me in cheers.

"sounds like a plan to me."

#wattpad #x reader #ricky olson #ricky horror #imagines #miw #one shots #288

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #56

Prompt number: 17 - “Give me a minute or an hour”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

AN: @flamingbluepanda encouraged me to write a Psych AU for this prompt

Joe cranes his neck to get a better look at the body. The puncture wounds are interesting, each one spaced at least four inches apart, all at differing angles, both in entrance and position meaning whatever killed this man wasn’t just a random attack. If they were closer, Joe would have thought they were bite marks and maybe they are, but the last time he checked, there were no animals in the ocean or on land with a bite-radius that large and teeth spaced that far apart. At least, there’s nothing alive today that has a 34-inch bite-radius.

“You getting something, Mr. Kaysani?” Chief Freeman asks.

Can it be? The bite marks are looking to be more of a match the longer he stares at them. “I’m…getting something,” Joe says, snatching the yellow pad and a pen from Andy and ignoring the small huff of irritation she lets out.

He starts with a brief outline, it’s been a while since he’s drawn one of these and he has to use small strokes to get the head right.

“Wait, I think this is a boating accident,” Andy says, and Joe briefly looks up to see her point at the body. “Head trauma from…from falling off the boat. Hit a motor maybe?”

The eyes are tricky. Should they be looking straight or at the viewer? Joe decides the viewer for a more startling effect.

“The wounds on his back, they were caused by a…by an industrial crab trap. Yes, a crab trap. Or a whale. A lonely whale that got lost from its pod and traveled East, West. Saw our floating guy from below, thought it was a seal and…you know, had a little chomp.”

The teeth are definitely not his best work. The teeth to mouth ratio are way off and they’re definitely not as uniform in real life like he drew them. It’ll have to do for now. He adds a little shading to the drawing, giving it a more realistic appearance.  

“A whale?” Booker slowly asks, when it seems like Andy is finally done with her explanation.

“What’s your guy got?” Nicky immediately shoots back, coming to his partner’s defense.

Joe can practically hear Booker’s smug look, “Watch and learn, Genova. Watch and learn.”

“Alright Kaysani, show me what you got,” Chief Freeman says.

Joe blows on paper and holds the pad to his chest, hiding his drawing from a peaking Andy. “First of all, I would like to say that this is not my best work. It’s a very rough sketch, the shading isn’t finished, the torso is a little plump and the teeth are…they’re not completely accurate. If I had more time, I would’ve definitely given them more shape, more individual characteristics. If I had my druthers, I'd have done this in charcoal.” Booker gives him an understanding nod and Joe would high-five him if he was standing right next to him, “You know what I’m talking about! Almost nothing beats a good charcoal drawing-“

“Mr. Kaysani!” Chief Freeman interrupts, crossing her arms and tapping her feet. “The verdict?”

Joe dips his head in apology, “Yes! Look, the key was in the puncture wounds,” Joe says, using his pen to point at said wounds. “They’re very unique puncture wounds. So unique in fact, that I was able to draw a semi-accurate profile of our attacker.” Chief Freeman gives him the look that says ‘Well? Get on with it’ and Joe turns the pad around and smirks at Andy.

Both Andy and Chief Freeman do a double-take and lean forward to get a better look. He resists the urge to flinch. It’s really not his best work and it shows. After a second of intense scrutiny, Chief Freeman shakes her head with a slight scoff and stalks off.

“Chief? Where are you going?” Joe calls out, still holding his drawing up. The culprit is right here! Well, not here here but here on paper. She’s halfway up the beach already and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge he spoke. Great.

“Nice work, Kaysani,” Andy says, snatching her pen and pad back, a pleased look on her face, and runs to catch up to the Chief.

“A dinosaur?” Booker asks, mouth downturned, fingers working the buttons in his sleeves to roll them back down to a more professional length. No, we were supposed to get fish tacos after this. “Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have shot for something in the last million years?”

Joe places his hands on his friend’s chest and steps in his way, “Give me a minute, or an hour to prove it was a Tyrannosaurus rex.” Booker shakes his head, the disappointed look doing funny things to Joe’s stomach, pats Joe on the shoulder, and steps around him to leave.

Great, just great. Even his best friend didn’t believe him. Joe rubs his temples, he can feel a faint throb and he hopes that it’s just a regular throb and not a foreshadow for a migraine.  

“I thought the drawing was pretty good.”

Joe drops his hand and turns around. Nicky has that faint smile on his lips that Joe’s still trying to figure out if it means he likes Joe or likes likes Joe. He’s already made it obvious on multiple occasions how he feels about Nicky.

With Nicky’s looking at him like that, it’s so easy to smile. “Thanks!” And because no one else is here to witness his humiliation, he makes his smile a little more flirty. “You know, I can always use a live model.”

Nicky cocks an eyebrow at him, the faint smile still there, maybe even a little wider if Joe’s not delusional. “I’m going to go calm Andy.”

“Don’t die, I’d hate to miss your pretty face.” A light blush creeps up Nicky’s neck as he nods and jogs back up the beach.

Joe doesn’t stare at Nicky’s ass. He doesn’t, because that would be rude and Nicky is more than a beautiful body.

It’s a good thing the only witness is a dead body.

Joe turns back to the dead body. “Definitely not a boating accident.”

—

Joe slumps against the growing mound of dirt. He’s exhausted. He feels like he completed an Iron Man and climbed Mount Everest twenty times. Who knew being shot at could be so draining? To make matters worse, the throb from this morning was a foreshadow. His eyeballs are going to explode any second now with how strong his head is pounding. He digs his knuckle into the valley between his eyes until it hurts, it’s a different hurt than the one going on behind his eyes though, that it feels strangely good.

Joe sighs, at least one good thing happened today; he was right about the body. It’s a real shame he doesn’t have ‘Use a 20-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex model built by a 9-year-old Booker to solve a murder case’ on his bingo card. He would’ve been the only one to mark it down.

A bottle of water is placed on his lap and Joe opens his eyes, a ‘thanks, Booker’ on his tongue. Except, it’s not Booker standing above him, it’s Nicky.

Joe musters up the best smile he can despite feeling like death has crawled its way inside him through his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your head’s been hurting all day,” Nicky says, crouching down, a small frown on his face. He pulls two packets out of his pocket and holds them out to Joe. One’s red and the other’s green. “I didn’t know if it was a regular headache or a migraine, so, I got both.”

Joe stares at the two packets. Nicky bought him medicine. Nicky saw that he was hurting and brought him something to feel better. Joe swallows the lump in his throat, reaches out for the red packet. “Thank you,” Joe says, brushing his fingers with Nicky’s.

The corners of Nicky’s lips tick upwards, “No problem.”

Joe tears the packet open and dumps both pills in his hands before tossing them into his mouth. Nicky has the bottle of water open and held out for him and Joe takes it with a grateful nod. Even though he swallows the pills on the first gulp, he finishes the whole bottle. Only when he’s done, does he remember that Booker might want some too.

“I gave him a bottle too,” Nicky says and that’s a sign, right? That has to be a sign of how amazing they would be together. “The pharmacist said those pills should work in 15 minutes.” Joe nods, he’s intimately familiar with the wonders of Excedrin. He would’ve taken one around lunch if they hadn’t been following another lead at the time.

“Thank you,” Joe repeats, closing his eyes again even though he wants nothing more than to stare into Nicky’s gorgeous blue eyes. He hears and then feels Nicky settle beside him, no doubt getting his suit all dirty, and he’s doing that for Joe.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Joe shakes his head, “You’ve helped a lot already. We just have to wait now.” Joe resumes his earlier ministrations, digging into that spot that hurt but was a better hurt than the one inside.

Cold fingers slide over his own, “Don’t press too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Nicky chides.  

Joe grabs Nicky’s wrist and guides those cold fingers until they’re covering his eyes. Relief instantly hits and Joe presses those cold fingers harder against his eyes.

“Should’ve gotten an ice pack,” Nicky mutters to himself.

“S’fine, your hands are working.”

They sit in silence as they wait for the pills to kick in. Every few minutes, Nicky switches hands and Joe doesn’t even have to hold his wrist anymore. He knows how hard to press and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He can almost ignore Booker digging in the background and the occasional splash of dirt that rains down on both of them.

“Never thought my poor circulation would come in handy,” Nicky jokes when the migraine finally subsides.

Joe grins and reaches out to press a kiss to both palms. “They were lovely.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to have to listen to you two flirt the entire night,” Booker calls out from the hole. “I don’t want you two ruining my discovery.”

Excuse me?  

“Your discovery?” Joe asks, crawling over the mound to look down at Booker. He’s made an impressive amount of progress. Probably only six more feet before they hit the skull.

Booker stabs the shovel into the dirt, both of his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “I’m digging, so yes, my discovery.”

Joe makes an outraged sound, “I found the right hole!”

“It wasn’t a hole! I’m making it a hole!” To prove his point, Booker picks up the shovel and tosses the next scoop at Joe.

Joe should’ve seen that one coming.

“Alright, I’m going to go home. Have fun digging, boys,” Nicky says and when Joe turns around, he’s brushing dirt off himself. “I’ll see you later?”

Joe nods his head probably a little too enthusiastically, “Definitely. Thank you again for the pills. I’d still be dying if you hadn’t have come back.”

Nicky smiles, the small one, and one day Joe’s going to see if he can get him to grin ear-to-ear, lips stretched so wide his cheeks will hurt. But not today. Today, he’s going to make history by being the first Psychic Paleontologist.

Nicky dips his head again and yeah, Joe hates to see him go but he sure as hell loves to watch him leave.

That ass is definitely better than a charcoal drawing.

A new spray of dirt rains down on him and that’s it.

It’s a shame no one is there to hear Booker’s loud yelp as Joe tackles him to the floor. Oh well, it’ll live rent-free in Joe’s mind forever.

#joe x nicky #the old guard #booker #nile freeman #fictober20 #andromache the scythian #hc

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Ten) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Mentions of getting shot. Mentions of blood. Explosions. Mentions of kidnapping. Mentions of stalking. Literally the whole shabang.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 11066

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 01. Right after part nine.

HOTCH’S POV

Morgan came into my office just as the sun was rising over Quantico. The rest of the BAU, and really all of the FBI, was just starting to pour into the building for a long day’s work. He told me that Y/N went to get donuts and coffee for everyone, and offered me the chance to order something if I wanted. I stared at him with a blank face for a moment. No one went with them? We had an Unsub stalking us, and no one left Quantico with them? What the hell were Reid and Morgan thinking? Gideon made JJ hold a press conference almost two hours prior— which was a bad idea on its own— and now Y/N left without anyone with them? I didn’t doubt that they could handle themselves. I knew that they could. But this guy knew everything about us. We could afford to take such a risk.

“No. I don’t want anything,” I responded calmly. Morgan shrugged and nodded, patting the door frame before leaving. The second he was out of sight, I picked up my cell and started calling them. They picked up after the first ring.

“Morgan was supposed to call me with your order, Aaron.”

“I know, I know. Why did you leave without someone else?”

I could hear the annoyance and defiance in their voice, “It’s not that big of a deal, Hotch. I’m just going to Leonard’s for donuts and coffee, and then I’ll be right back. You won’t even miss me.”

I already missed them, though. And I was already worried about them. They should have just gone home or stayed at the office. They knew better. But they were also reckless, and they didn’t like to listen to me. It was fun for them to push my buttons, but this simply wasn’t the time.

“Leonard’s and right back. I’m serious.”

“You promised to not worry so much about me,” they sing-songed.

I couldn’t help it. They sprang the “I love you” on me just the other night, and it awoke something in me that I hadn’t felt since Haley. Actually… to tell the truth, it didn’t even feel this way with Haley. All my life, I thought I was going to spend it with Haley; but she got tired of waiting around for me, and I couldn’t blame her. Then Y/N came along, and something changed. I didn’t have to pretend or settle for them. This job was just as important to them as it was for me. Making it work rather than putting unfair pressures on each other made me feel comfortable and loved. And now they were telling me to not worry about them as if I hadn’t said “I love you” back to them the other night and in Jamaica yesterday. I loved them with every inch of me and I worried about them every second of every day. I earned that right when I saw them playing with Jack and getting along so well with him. I earned that right when we said “I love you” to each other. I earned that right when they became my partner. I knew our rules, I knew our dynamic… But none of my feelings just washed away whenever I would get to work, contrary to popular belief.

“I'm not worried,” I lied. “I love you.”

I could practically hear them smiling through the phone. “I love you, too.”

We hung up our call and I sighed. They would be fine. Leonard’s was just a few blocks away— not even a ten minute drive. They would be around people, in the public eye. No one would be able to take them if they were being careful. And then they would be back before I could even say their name.

I stood and exited my office to check on the rest of the unit who was just now appearing for work. They all seemed busy, yet entirely ignorant of what was really going on. They only knew what everyone else had seen on the news, and that was all they needed to know. Everything was going to be fine. Like Y/N said, I had nothing to worry about.

And then I spotted Anderson at the copy machine.

My brows furrowed as I hurried down the ramp outside of my office and called his name. He looked up from the machine and fixed his posture to stand at attention like a soldier would for his commanding officer. I asked him where Elle was, and he only responded with a confused look. I asked him why he was back already, and he still looked confused.

“You told me to take her home, sir.”

“I understand that, but taking her home is not the same thing dropping her off. We have an Unsub who’s stalking our unit. He knows all of our personal information, including our addresses. You can’t just leave her there. Get back there now.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I glared and he silently retreated out of the building. I picked up the nearest phone, which happened to be on Y/N’s desk, and tried calling Elle’s cellphone. When she didn’t pick up, I figured that she must have let it die or left it in her purse when she fell asleep. So I tried calling her house number. Still, nothing. Shit. I kept trying to reach her. I wasn’t about to give up. Soon, she would finally get annoyed by the constant ringing and would get her ass out of bed long enough to pick up the phone and let me know that she was alright. Either that or Anderson would get there on time and he’d call to let me know that she was safe. But until then, I wasn’t going to stop calling.

“Agent Hotchner,” one of the secretaries approached me. I raised a brow at her while still dialing Elle’s number. “The delivery man from the news last night is on his way up. He just turned himself in.”

Shit. I put the phone down. “Thanks for letting me know. Do me a favor, keep calling Agent Greenaway for me until she picks up her phone.”

“Which Greenaway, sir?”

“Elle.”

“Right away.”

We separated in opposite directions. She returned to her desk, while I headed up to Gideon’s office to let him know about the delivery man. Reid was in his office with him, which saved me some time from running around to tell everyone on the team. Gideon was up on his feet the moment I mentioned a delivery man, he didn’t even need to hear the rest because he already knew. That was why he had JJ hold the press conference. It wasn’t to snuff out the Unsub, but our only living witness thus far.

I was the first one into the interrogation room where the witness was waiting. He matched the description that Jessica gave the sketch artist perfectly. As we entered the room, his terror filled eyes looked up at me. People only looked like that when they had something to hide, but I didn’t think that a guy like this could be our Unsub. He was too shaky and shy for that— Not to mention that our Unsub wouldn’t’ve turned himself in when we still had some kind of quest to complete.

I decided to be up front with him. No dancing around it. We needed answers and we needed them fast. “You delivered a packing to my ex-wife’s house yesterday, and it was addressed to my son—”

“Do I need a lawyer?” he questioned.

I continued, trying to move past the idea of calling a lawyer because that would only slow us down. “It was late in the day. You told the woman you gave the folder to that it was imperative that it get to me because a girl’s life depended on it. Ring any bells yet?”

“I— I guess I could check my logs, yeah,” he stuttered.

“No, you already know which one I’m talking about.”

“Listen, all I know is that a guy came up to me, asked me if I could drop off this package a mile down the road, and that a girl’s life depended on it. I was headed that way, anyhow, I figured what could be the harm?”

“And you didn’t find it at all suspicious that this guy mentioned that a girl’s life was at stake?”

The witness shifted in his seat uncomfortably, a telling sign that he was about to lie. “No, I didn’t think anything of it. I heard that a girl was in trouble, so I knew that I just had to help. Does that make me a bad guy?”

I chuckled, “So you’re a humanitarian, then?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“How much did he pay you?” Gideon asked.

The witness looked at him and shifted again. “I… I don’t know what you mean…” He looked back at me, but I didn’t budge for him. He swallowed hard. “A thousand dollars in cash. Gave it to me when he gave me the folder.”

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. He had a big coat on and a big hat covering his face. All that I could actually see was his neck and his hands, and they were all fucked up. It looked like he had been burned everywhere.”

I looked over at Gideon. That was everything we were going to get out of this guy, and it was really all we needed. We silently left the interrogation room, but we didn’t release the witness yet in case we decided that we would have more questions for him later.

“Burn scars would explain why he seemed uncomfortable in the video,” I told Gideon.

“It’s also how we’ll find him.”

Reid smiled ear to ear after I complimented his good work— rightfully so, too. Together, him and Garcia had cracked a huge problem in the case. While we had earlier hit a wall with the numbers on the letter Jessica gave us, they had figured it all out finally.

Garcia opened her mouth like she was about to say something, likely to apologize again for her mistake. She knew that she had fucked up, and she knew that Gideon was the most upset about all of it. But as she was about to begin, a secretary joined us in the hallway to deliver a message.

“Agent Gideon, there’s a call for you on line 2.”

Garcia closed her mouth and let her shoulders fall as she hugged her files over her chest in order to put her guard up again. What little bravery she had mustered only seconds ago immediately disappeared and she was back to being silent and self-loathing again. Gideon sighed at the interruption, however, and asked who was calling and if it was really all that important. When the secretary responded that it was urgent and that the man calling had named himself “The Fisher King”, we all knew that something was wrong.

We all rushed to the door that led to the BAU wing. Gideon and I were the first to the phone; Reid, Garcia, and the secretary chased after. Gideon unmuted the call, put it on speaker, and introduced himself.

“I didn’t have any other choice,” the Fisher King said. It was the same voice which called me the other night when I was with Y/N. This was our Unsub. “It was distasteful and barbaric. But it had to be done. You forced my hand, Agent Gideon. I told you that there were rules, and you blatantly ignored me. So I had to make sure that you would never break the rules again. Agent Greenaway didn’t have to die like that, Agent Gideon, just remember that. If you would have listened, I wouldn’t have done it. Not like that. Remember the rules or there will be more consequences.” And then the call ended.

I looked up at Jason, my heart racing in my chest. Both Elle and Y/N were out. Anderson had just gone back to Elle’s place, which meant… No. I immediately reached for my phone and took a step away from the group as I began to dial their number. Straight to voicemail. I cursed under my breath as I dialed again.

Behind me, Gideon was instructing Reid to reach out to every nearby hospital in search of a patient with the last name Greenaway. The whole office was set in motion as everyone went to do their assigned jobs for when an agent was to go missing. Garcia hurried to her office to check the computers and Gideon went to grab his things— including his car keys. By the time he returned, I had called Y/N three times, and every time it went directly to their inbox. Either they were being an asshole and not picking up, or something truly did happen to them. I prayed that they were just being an asshole again.

“Hotch!” Reid called from the balcony. I looked over. “It’s Elle! She’s at Sentara Northern Virginia Medical Center!” He retreated back into the boardroom to sort things out while Gideon threw his keys at me as we both turned to the exit.

I immediately turned on the lights and the sirens after we pulled out of Quantico. I was speeding down the roads, trying to avoid all of the cars who weren’t moving to the side for us, while also trying to call Y/N to let them know what had happened. They still weren’t picking up, and I remembered that they told me not to worry, but I didn’t end up worrying about Elle, and look at what happened. So I just kept dialing while Jason watched me out of the corner of his eye.

Please just be an asshole and not dead. That was all I wanted from them. I wanted the excuses, I wanted the fighting back, I wanted the sass and bratiness that all came with dating them. I wanted to know that I would get to see them again, to just hold them in my arms and tell them that I love them again. If I could have, I would have never stopped saying it because I wasn’t about to let them get away like I had with Haley. They weren’t going to win that easily. But they just had to pick up the fucking phone first.

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.

“I’m not going to say it…” Gideon said, looking out the window to avoid my glare.

“Good. Then don’t.”

I knew what he was going to say. He didn’t like the idea of me and Y/N dating. He didn’t like the idea of anyone dating on the team because he knew what potential distractions it could create. But I didn’t care what he thought. At least not then when I just needed to focus on literally anything positive. So I tried to focus on how happy it made me to see Y/N with Jack. They were so good with him, and he took to them immediately. I had never seen him connect with anyone like that before. It was such a relief to me that they liked each other.

And then my phone started ringing.

I briskly flipped it open and brought it to my ear.

READER’S POV

I was busy juggling a box of donuts and a cardboard cup holder carrying four coffees when my phone started ringing again. Morgan had called me just before I started ordering inside at Leonard’s to tell me that JJ wanted a cup of cold brew, and that Hotch and Gideon turned down coffee, but Gideon would love a donut. So I ordered a dozen donuts— just to make sure there were plenty extra— and four coffees. Yes, four. I heard Morgan tell me that Hotch didn’t want anything, but I knew him better than that, and I knew that he would want it later, so I got him one anyways. I figured that even if he didn’t end up drinking it, someone else would. Maybe Elle would take it when Anderson would bring her back to the office.

My phone rang again on the way to the car, but I still couldn’t reach it with both of my hands full, so I just tried to hurry up to the car. It rang a third time and I groaned. It was probably just Aaron again, all worried that I wasn’t back yet. It wasn’t my fault that I got caught in the morning traffic outside of Quantico, and I didn’t realize that Leonard’s had some kind of deal on Sunday mornings which always drew in a huge ass crowd. It wasn’t like I made my trips to Leonard’s a common occurrence. I hardly ever went there, so I sure as hell didn’t know about any discount deal that somehow brought in half of Virginia.

The damn phone rang again and I cursed Hotch for making me practically run to the car. He was too worried about me since the other night. Granted, I basically had a breakdown yesterday when I saw my jewelry box, but we had our rules for a reason. I just needed him to calm down and wait until I could call him back. He had already called me three times while I was ordering, which I couldn’t answer any of those calls since I was already busy. Now he had called me at least four times on the way to the car, which meant that he wasn’t even waiting for it to go to voicemail every time.

I put the cupholder on the roof of the car so that I could have a free hand to open the car door. I reached into the car and set the box of donuts on the passenger’s seat, then went back to grab the coffees. They wobbled in my hands as one of the cups managed to slide out of the grip a little too far. I managed to catch it on time, thankfully, before it could spill all over me, and let out a sigh of relief before making sure the cup was put back all the way.

I slid into the car, closed the door, and put the coffees next to the donuts on the seat. When that was settled and I was fairly sure that nothing was going to fall over or spill everywhere, I reached for my phone to see what the hell was going on. Aaron had called me seven times. Seven. Either he was dying or they caught the guy and I could go home. Either way, I was going to kill him.

I dialed his number and called him back. It rang twice before he picked up. “I’m on my way, Hotch. Did you guys find something?”

“Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone?”

“My hands were full. I couldn’t reach my phone. What’s going on?”

“The Unsub shot Elle.”

I stopped worrying about turning the car on and getting out of the parking lot in a rush but also satefly as he said it. I froze for a moment, just staring at the building in front of me. I tried to wrap my brain around what he said, and almost went to deny it, but I knew that he wouldn’t lie to me like that. So why had he said it? Maybe this was Gideon’s next ploy to try to weed out the Unsub, but they had to make it real, so they had to make me believe it. That had to be it. Elle was fine.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” I hummed into the phone.

“She’s alive,” he clarified. My gaze fell from the building and to the car’s emblem in the middle of the steering wheel. I was slowly starting to come back to reality. “She’s at Sentara North. Gideon and I are headed there now. I can have Reid pick you up.”

“No,” I insisted, my eyes falling shut. “I’ll… I’ll meet you there.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ll be fine.”

I hung up before he could say anything. He didn’t want me driving. I understood. But what else were we going to do? I put the car in reverse and started backing out of the parking spot I was in. I was just trying to come to terms with how the hell this could have happened. Aaron sent Elle home with Anderson. She should have just been resting in her bed while he kept watch. So how the fuck did the Unsub manage to break into my sister’s home and shoot her? Where was Anderson?

I thought about how Hotch wanted me to go home, even if it was with Elle or Morgan. He just wanted me to get some rest since I hadn’t slept in nearly forty hours. But I turned him down selfishly because I wanted to focus on the case. I knew that there was an Unsub out there who had it out for my sister, and I chose to stay at the office with Hotch. If I would’ve just listened, I could have been with Elle, and maybe I could have stopped the Unsub. Maybe she wouldn’t be in the hospital at all.

Sentara Northern Virginia Medical Center was only a twelve minute drive from Leonard’s, I made it in nine. One of the Bureau’s vehicles was parked directly out front, and I knew that it had to be Hotch and Gideon, so I parked Hotch’s car next to it and hurried out the second I turned the ignition off. I left my purse, the donuts, and the coffees all in the car as I just hauled ass inside and ran up to the front desk.

The nurse at the front desk was taken aback by my panic and the way I was flashing my badge in her face, demanding for the floor number that Elle was on. After likely having just dealt with Hotch and Gideon perhaps a few minutes prior, the nurse already knew the floor to give me, and I was running again to the elevators where I kept pressing the up button like it would somehow make it arrive faster.

My foot tapped against the bottom of the elevator anxiously as I counted the floors I passed and the seconds it was taking to get there. For all I knew, Elle could have already been dead. Every second spent trapped in that elevator was one less second that I would get to be by my sister’s side when she needed me most. And I absolutely hated it. I hated not being able to make the elevator go faster. I hated that I didn’t pick up Hotch’s calls sooner. I hated that I didn’t just go home with Elle, instead I chose to get coffee and donuts like an idiot. Gosh, I was so fucking stupid.

The elevator dinged before the doors began to slowly slide open. The second the gap was wide enough, I squeezed past and ran into the bright white hallway. Ahead of me was a glass wall that divided the waiting room from the hallway I was standing in. Behind the glass, I could see Hotch sitting across from Gideon, who was working on a crossword puzzle in today’s newspaper. Hotch looked up from his hands like he could sense that I had just arrived. When our eyes met, he pushed himself to his feet and hurried to meet me halfway. I ran up to him and jumped into his open arms. My arms wrapped themselves around his neck and I cried in his shoulder. He tried to soothe me by rubbing small circles on my back with one hand, and whispering that it would be okay in my ear.

“She’s alright,” he told me. “She’s in surgery still, but she’s going to be alright.”

“I should’ve gone with her.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No.”

“How did this happen, Aaron?”

I felt like I was going to be sick again. The whole car ride over, I was convinced that it was some kind of sick joke. I didn’t want it to be real, so I tried to pretend that it wasn’t. But standing in that hallway, wrapped in Hotch’s arms as I sobbed and he tried to calm me down, I knew that it was real. I could feel it. My sister had been shot. The Unsub promised that the other one was being taken care of, and we thought that it was over when we got Elle out of jail in Jamaica. But the Unsub was only just getting started. He saved his big moment for when we least expected it. When we were all exhausted, hungry, separated, and our anxieties had actually calmed down. It was the calm before the storm, and none of us saw it coming.

Hotch was trying to find the best way to explain without hurting me. He was treating me like a victim of a case rather than his partner, because that was all he knew how to do. With Haley, he thought that he knew what he was doing, but she shattered his idea of love, comfort, and romance when she left him suddenly. Now, he didn’t know anything about how to comfort me in the way I needed most. And it made me sad. I was trying so hard to help him. We had gotten so far together since he first asked me out, but this was the one thing that we hadn’t prepared for. This was the one thing we never wanted to be ready for because we didn’t want to imagine that it could happen. So now he wasn’t prepared and it broke my heart.

He did what he understood, though, and that was explaining it to me like a stranger in a case who just lost a loved one. “He went in through the back door, caught her by surprise, and shot her.”

“Where?” I begged him for more details. As both an agent and her sister, I needed to know more than just that.

“The living room. He went through the kitchen and into the living room, and shot her point blank in the shoulder.”

I squeezed his neck tighter and he pulled me closer. “Why didn’t we know sooner?”

“The Unsub took her badge and gun.”

I pulled from Hotch and he let me, but his touch didn’t leave me. His left hand trailed up my side and up my neck before he cupped my cheek. He wiped away one of my tears with his thumb.

“The crime scene— I’ve got to go look at it,” I said desperately, trying to make a move for the elevator.

Hotch made sure to hold me still as gently but as assertive as he could. “No,” he insisted. “You don’t need to see it. Trust me. Anderson’s there and he’s sending me photos. You don’t want to know, Y/N.”

“I can find this asshole. I can do it if you just let me.”

“You need to be here for when Elle gets out of surgery and wakes up. She’s going to need you.”

I wiped another tear that was falling down my cheek. “That’ll be hours from now. I have to go—”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he whispered with more harshness to his tone. “He called us after he did it…” Hotch pressed his forehead to mine. “He said that ‘Agent Greenaway didn’t have to die like that’ and I thought that he meant you.” His eyes fell shut as he tried to stop himself from crying. “I thought it was you and I nearly died.” He kissed me tenderly yet eagerly, just wanting to know that I was still there with him and that he could still kiss me. He didn’t want to think about losing me and the opportunity to love me. “So you’re not going anywhere until we find this guy.”

My fingers found the back of his neck and slid under the ends of his short hair. I grabbed slightly, not enough to hurt, but just to be affectionate. “Okay,” I gave in. He didn’t want me to leave, and I wasn’t going to fight him on this one thing. It made sense and I didn’t need to get under his skin when there was already so much happening. “I’ll stay.”

He let out a sigh of relief, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It felt good to say it again to his face. It was the first time since the other night at his house. Just the difference between saying it against his lips compared to saying it into a phone made my heart flutter in my chest. Every time he said it, every time his face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath, and every time he looked at me like he loved me more than anything in the world, my day brightened just a little more.

Hotch escorted me to the waiting room where Gideon was pretending to still be focused on his newspaper, when, in reality, he had likely been watching Hotch and I in the hallway to get a feel for how serious our relationship was. I wondered what he thought about us. Gideon was always a softie deep down, and he was just another hopeless romantic like the rest of us; but he also held his own bias against coworkers dating, which made him view us differently. But I wondered that if after seeing us in the hallway and how we needed each other, he decided that maybe it was alright after all. Maybe he wouldn’t try to convince Hotch that it was a bad idea.

I sat down in one of the seats across from Gideon and Hotch let go of my hand. He wiped his face with both of his palms as he tried to recollect himself before turning back to Gideon. “Any luck reaching Morgan and JJ?”

Gideon shook his head, writing in another word on the crossword table. “They’re still out of cell range.”

“Keep trying.” He turned back to me, “Did you leave the drinks and food in the car?” I nodded. “Okay, I’ll go get them. You need something to eat.”

I whispered a thank you and slumped against the seat I was in. I watched him leave and step into the elevator. As the elevator doors began to close, he sent me a short, small smile. My head fell back gently against the back support of the seat I was in and I let out a heavy sigh. All I wanted was to be with Elle at her house, her asleep with me watching over her to make sure that she was alright. Maybe I just needed food and sleep like Aaron kept telling me. This whole time, while I had been fighting against him to make sure that I was constantly keeping up to date with the case, I had forgotten that I needed to take care of my body in order to keep pushing. And without having eaten anything in hours and I hadn’t slept in almost forty hours, I felt so weak. Even if Elle woke up or they found the Unsub, I felt like I would be of no use in the state I was in. It made me feel utterly powerless.

Gideon was still paying no attention to me— or at least pretending as such. He was purposefully doing it. No one could actually focus on a crossword puzzle like he was when one of the teammates was up in surgery and it was his fault. Yeah, I said it. This was all his fault. The Unsub gave specific instructions that we weren’t allowed to go to the media or any outside resources. He knew that there were rules, and he broke them, and I was sure that it had to do with Elle getting shot. Not only did the Unsub want Elle out of the way for some fucked up reason, but he wanted to make sure that we understood that there were consequences to breaking his rules. So he won by getting rid of Elle and proving a point to us. Two birds, one stone.

Gideon should have been more careful. He should have listened to Hotch about not holding the press conference. And that was likely why he wasn’t looking at me. He knew that I would be upset with him for letting this happen to my sister. He also knew that I wasn’t going to blame Hotch, even though he was the one who sent Elle home. He knew that I couldn’t do that, but I’d be looking to point fingers, and it all pointed to him. He was ashamed, and as much as I hated to think it, I was glad that he felt that way. I wanted him to regret his decisions. Because if he had just stopped to consider instead of going on a personal witch hunt, then Elle wouldn’t have been lying on a surgical table with doctors trying to pull a bullet out of her chest.

When Hotch came back with the donuts and coffee, I pushed myself to sit back up again. He took the seat next to me and handed me one of the coffees, another to Gideon, and one for himself. I knew that he would want it. I tried not to smile behind my cup. It didn’t feel like the time to smile about such a silly thing, but I couldn’t believe that I had him pegged like that. It felt good knowing him that well.

“I called JJ and Morgan, told them about Elle, but they're still heading out there,” Hotch explained to Gideon as he handed him a donut.

I raised a brow after accepting my own donut from Hotch. “Where are they?”

“They’re checking up on a lead about the victim and her family. They’re going North to talk to her family.” He relaxed in his seat beside me, “Anderson called as I was about to get in the elevator. He told me that they found a partial print at the crime scene.”

That was the best news we had all day. While we had been falling short of any real leads since finding the jewelry box yesterday, the Unsub leaving a partial print in Elle’s house meant that we were one step closer to catching him. One step closer to me looking at my sister’s attacker in the eyes as I got to read him his Miranda Rights and put him away for a very long time. That was a reason to smile.

“How did they get the partial?” I asked.

Hotch looked at me with soft eyes that spoke volumes. I didn’t want to know, according to him. But him not telling me only confirmed any suspicions I might have had about the crime scene. I saw what happened in Jamaica, I saw what happened with Frank Giles. Our Unsub liked to write messages in blood. “SAVE HER”, “IT’S BEEN HANDLED”, and “HERE THY QUEST DOTH TRULY BEGIN” were all apart of his M.O. He wouldn't have left Elle without completing his ritual.

So I wanted to know the truth. “What did it say?”

Hotch scratched his stubble and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew that I wouldn’t stop pressing for answers, especially when it came to Elle. His choices were to either tell me or find a way to travel back in time and stop himself from ever saying anything else about the crime seeing. Seeing as the second option was neither logical nor possible, he had to give me something. He knew that I had seen all of the other crime scenes first hand, and if he reused to tell me, I would just walk right out of the hospital and drive over there to see it for myself. It didn’t matter what promises I made to him. If I didn’t get answers, I wasn’t going to stick around long enough for him to start an argument about it.

“It said ‘RULES’... In Elle’s blood.”

“I’m going to kill him, Hotch. I swear, I’m going to kill him, even if it kills me.”

I was right about the Unsub and his reason for attacking Elle. Gideon broke the rules and the team had to pay.

“We still don’t have enough for a profile yet, though,” Gideon said quietly. “At least not a good one.”

Hotch picked up my free hand with his and held it tight. Even with Gideon in the room, Hotch was going out of his way to make sure that he was with me, that I understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. We had our rules. We knew that we weren’t supposed to touch at work— especially not like this. But something had happened to Hotch while I was at Leonard’s. He said that the Unsub called them to tell them that he had killed Elle, but he used our last name, and Hotch’s first worry was me. The fact that he called me on my way out of the parking lot to give me crap about leaving on my own, then all of the calls at Leonard’s, and his persistent need for touch all told me that the Unsub had really gotten under his skin by using me. The call when we were together the other night was the first step, and it kept escalating from there. The Unsub wanted us to be together at all times, for some reason, and he found a way to ensure that it would happen. All it took was stalking us, sending something to Jack, and scaring the crap out of Hotch about losing me on a thousand separate occasions.

Hotch’s hand squeezed mine. “Once JJ and Morgan finish up with Rebecca’s family, we’ll hopefully have another lead. Until then, there’s not much we can do. I think we should all get some rest.”

Gideon shook his head and flipped the newspaper pages to a sudoku puzzle now. He was really trying not to face me, and I didn’t blame him. I was sending him the worst death glare I could throw at him for what he did. But Hotch was at least right about the sleep idea. I was done with my donut, and the warm coffee was starting to lull me to sleep, even though the caffeine should have knocked me back on my feet. I guessed that I just was so tired that even caffeine couldn’t save me. And there wasn’t anything to do with the case or about Elle in surgery. Hotch had the right idea, and sleep was the one thing I couldn’t argue with at that point.

I peeled my hand from Hotch’s so that I could push myself to lean forward and put the cup of coffee on the table in front of us.  When I reclined back in my seat, I shifted to the side so that I could rest my head against his shoulder. My eyelids were already heavy to the point that they fell shut without any effort. Sleep felt so natural, I didn’t have to fight to keep my eyes shut or quiet my thoughts.

Everything was oddly peaceful in that hospital waiting room. The lights were gold and dim in order to comfort those who would be waiting around, just like we were. All of the newspapers and magazines that Gideon had collected in front of him just reminded me home and how my dad would lay them out the same way. The air conditioning was right above my head, blowing cool air that helped my heart rate slow down and find peace. It was just so quiet as though the room itself were inviting me to sleep for once. I didn’t mind the feeling at all.

“The press conference was the right thing to do,” Gideon said quietly, assuming that I was already asleep and didn’t want to wake me up. Hotch’s hand fell to my knee and his thumb started to draw slow circles over the fabric of my pants. “I mean, it forced the Unsub to come out, forced him to make a mistake like leaving a partial print. If I hadn’t done what I did, who knows if we would have that information. I did the right thing. I know I did. I was just doing my job. Elle will understand that and Y/N will forgive me.”

“Jason…” Hotch whispered, trying not to move the shoulder I was resting on. “It’s no one’s fault but the Unsub.”

“I know.” He sounded so unsure about himself as he stood to leave. “I know.” He carefully put the newspaper back down on the table. “Let them sleep. I’ll be outside if you find anything out from Morgan or JJ.” He patted Hotch’s other shoulder gently on his way out.

When Gideon was gone, Hotch kissed the top of my head clemently, “I love you.”

I nuzzled against his shoulder and picked his hand up to intertwine our fingers again. “I love you, too,” I whispered. He kissed my head again and I let out one last breath of relief and tranquility before I managed to fall asleep.

Hotch gently shook me awake about an hour later. I woke up carefully, rubbing the side of my neck where it was sore from being crooked against his shoulder for so long. He massaged my shoulder in an attempt to help with my tight muscles, but also to help me wake up from my nap. I didn’t think that I would be out of it for so long, but if I were just being woken up by Hotch, it meant that something had only just happened. Whether it was about the case or Elle, I didn’t know until Hotch was sure that I was entirely awake again.

I reached out for my coffee on the table, which was now cold, but it was better than nothing. I chugged the rest of it before setting it back down. Hotch threw his arm over my shoulders as I leaned back.

“The team identified the Unsub,” he finally said.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Gideon’s sending me to oversee the arrest.”

I jumped out of my seat. “I’ll go with you.” I was already fixing my hair back out of my face and making sure that my gun was prepped in its holster on my hip. I knew what Hotch was going to say before he even said it, and I already knew what my response was going to be.

“No. Stay here and wait for Elle.” Like I said, he was being predictable.

With my response already prepared, I grabbed my purse from the floor. “I’m coming with you, Hotch. I want to be there when we get this guy. I want to see his face when he realizes that he lost.”

Hotch stared at me for a moment before nodding, “Okay.”

He wasn’t going to win this one. I had gotten some food, coffee, and sleep. I was now at the top of my game, perfect for arguing with him. And while he usually enjoyed playing along, we were on a time crunch. So he gave in and we headed for the elevator. As we waited, I asked what we knew since I fell asleep.

Hotch told me everything the team had told him. Our Unsub’s name was Randall Garner. We stepped into the elevator. He was Rebecca Bryant’s biological father who had been severely burned in the fire that burned their family home down and killed everyone but Rebecca and Randall. When she was sixteen, Rebecca had been kidnapped by her father after he was released from a mental institution. He had been keeping her for two years before finally contacting us. Hotch wasn’t sure why yet, but he was sure that Spencer would have answers for when we would get to the office.

And answers he did have. From the moment we stepped into the office, everyone started bombarding me with questions about Elle, while Reid was trying to catch Hotch up with everything he had learned about the Unsub and the profile he had created single handedly while everyone was gone. Morgan and JJ were following me around with endless questions, even though I really didn’t know much more than them about Elle’s condition or the crime scene since Hotch refused to take me or tell me much of anything about it. I apologized for not having answers, and they seemed upset that they were just as helpless as I was. 

“He thinks that we’re modern-day Knights of the Round Table,” Reid explained to us as the group of us walked into the boardroom. There was a woman sitting in the corner, biting her nails, but I was the only one who seemed to take notice. “He thinks that he’s in a fantasy world where Rebecca is a grail that we need to rescue in order to save the day.”

“Do we know where he is?” Hotch asked, refusing to take a seat at the table.

Reid, Morgan, and JJ all looked through the files they had pulled and the notes they had taken, but there was nothing. His last known address was his home before it burned down in the fire— then, technically, the mental hospital. That was it, though. When he was released, he went off the grid. No one had any clue as to where he was.

“I have something,” the woman in the corner spoke up.

Reid leapt from his chair and hurried over to her, “No, mom, it’s okay—”

He came to a sudden halt when his mom pulled a photo from her purse and handed it to him. Spencer examined both sides before turning to all of us with wide eyes that told us that he suddenly understood so clearly. He handed it off to me and I took a look at it myself. One side was an address and the other was a picture of a large house in the middle of the woods.

Reid’s mom had this the entire time and she never said anything. The Unsub gave her another clue— the last clue— because he knew that Reid would send for her. To make sure that she was safe. He knew Spencer and the rest of us like he was us and could guess what we would do before we could even think of it for ourselves. He was ten steps ahead of at all times when he never should have even been a single step ahead of us in the first place.

I handed the photo over to Morgan. “Shiloh, Virginia?” he read the address. “That’s only ten miles from here.”

“Gear up quickly,” Hotch ordered, already heading for his office.

We all jumped to our feet and headed for our desks. Hotch was up in his office, calling the SWAT team for back up and giving them the address of where to meet us. Morgan tossed me another flashlight after I tested mine to find that it had died after Reid used it yesterday to find the jewelry box clue.

The five of us— me, Hotch. Morgan, JJ, Reid— all hurried to one of the FBI company black SUV vehicles and stuffed ourselves inside. Hotch turned on the lights and sirens before we even made it out of the parking lot and started hauling ass down the streets towards Shiloh. None of us said anything. We were all just focused on getting there and finally taking this guy down. We wanted answers and we wanted him to pay for all of the suffering he caused. It was high time he met his modern-day Knights of the Round table, just like he wanted.

The SWAT team Hotch had called in was already parked in front of the house when we arrived. They were all huddled around the trunks of their cars as they put on their gear and loaded their weapons. While we drove up the path with all of the lights off, they looked over to make sure that we were a friendly vehicle and not the suspect or otherwise.

Gravel crunched under my shoes as I jumped out of the car and walked around to the back where Hotch had popped the trunk for us to grab our bullet proof vests. I threw mine over my head and worked in silence as I connected all of the straps. Everyone was silent. The only sounds that echoed were from everyone’s boots compressing the gravel under us. If the Unsub were near a window or door, he likely would have heard us, even though we were all trying to be quiet.

When everyone was ready, Hotch traveled to the front of the group to lead us in. He gave a silent signal, and the SWAT team split into three small groups. One headed to the left, another to the right, and the one Hotch and I went with went straight for the front door. Our team split up, too. JJ and Morgan went to the left, Hotch and I down the middle, and Reid to the right.

We were still quiet as we ran up to the door and Hotch messed with the doorknob to see if it was unlocked. When the door opened easily, he gave us a silent signal to be careful because the Unsub was likely expecting us. This was his game, afterall. He had to know where the players were at all times.

Hotch and I went together towards the dining room while the SWAT members of our group branched off to check the kitchen. With our guns raised, Hotch and I ran into the room. We checked every corner, hiding spaces behind doors, cabinets, etc. but there was nothing. Rebecca had to be somewhere in the house, we were sure of that much, the only question was where?

I dragged a finger over the dining room table before bringing it up to my eyes. The table was caked in dust, just like everything else in the dining room. Around the table were six chairs, each covered by white sheets. From the other end of the table, Hotch whistled quietly to catch my attention. He was holding Elle’s badge and gun. So we did have the right guy’s house. That was some consolation.

“It’s Morgan. We’re clear on this side,” he said over the comms.

“Kitchen’s clear.”

“Living room clear.”

“Nothing in the parlor.”

“Dining room’s empty,” I said.

“I’ve got movement upstairs,” Reid said.

Hotch and I gave each other a nod before traveling together towards the staircase. Reid was halfway up, his gun and flashlight pointing at the hallway that diverted to the right of the stairs. He gestured with his flashlight that he saw someone heading that direction, and we followed him up.

The SWAT team ran past us, taking the lead in order to clear the upstairs rooms while we followed Spencer’s hunch. Reid, Morgan, and Hotch were in front of me, JJ behind me. She tapped my shoulder when we reached the top floor and she pointed towards the left, letting me know that she was going to look for Rebecca on the left side of the house with the SWAT team. I nodded an acknowledgement and continued to the right.

Reid jumped across the entrance to another hallway that turned to the left. He hid on the wall opposite Morgan, Hotch, and I. Morgan took point on that wall closest to the new hallway, meanwhile Hotch and I backed up for support. Down the new hallway that we had discovered, there was a room all the way at the end. The door was half open, and I saw a man pass by it. My blood ran cold as I gestured to Hotch that I saw Randall Garner.

“Cover me,” Morgan whispered to us.

“No, no, no,” Spencer insisted. Morgan stepped back from the corner. “Give me a second.” He raised his voice, “Mr. Garner? My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m with the FBI. You were in the hospital with my mother. I think she may have confused you about who we are and what we do. All we want to do is help Rebecca— which is what you want to do, too, right? That’s why you sent us the puzzles and the clues. That’s why you wanted to see us.”

“Did you bring her?” Garner asked from his room down the hall. The sound of leather creaking echoed in the hallway just after I saw him taking a seat at a desk inside.

“Bring who? Rebecca? We don’t have her. You do.”

“No. No. The one Arthur loves. Guinevere.”

Hotch, Morgan, and I all exchanged confused glances. Arthur and Guinevere? We knew that he saw us as the Knights of the Round Table, but we didn’t know that he had assigned us to the specific character.

“We didn’t bring any Guinevere,” Reid played along.

Randall Garner huffed angrily from his office. “I was very specific that Agent Hotchner and Agent Greenaway were to be together the entire time. Did you not learn your lesson about obeying the rules?”

I suddenly realized that Aaron was Arthur and I was Guinevere. That was why he wanted us together. He saw our relationship and wanted us to recreate how he imagined the characters behaving in his delusion. We were only confused at first because he said “she” and that wasn’t what any of us were used to. The only “she” we brought with us was JJ, and she was off searching the other side of the house. 

“We brought Agent Hotchner and Agent Greenaway, yes.”

“Ask the question, dear Guinevere.”

I looked across to Reid for an answer because I didn’t know of any question. Was it in one of the clues that Spencer solved? It had to be. “He believes that if you ask the right question, then it will magically heal his wounds. That’s why he wanted us. He thinks that we have magic.”

“Do you know the question?” Hotch whispered.

Reid shook his head, “But I know what he wants. Fall back.” He held his gun out to me, which I reluctantly took. “It’ll be fine…” he told us before walking into the hallway with his hands raised. “Stay calm, Mr. Garner.”

“Ask the question, Ser Percival, if Guinevere is incapacitated.”

“I told you, I’m not Percival and Y/N isn’t Guinevere. My name’s Spencer and we work for the FBI. You know my mother, Diana, from the hospital. Do you remember?” He kept walking down the hallway, closer and closer to the room Randall was in. “I think she might have made you think that your daughter is a grail and that we’re knights sent to rescue her.”

“No. Your mother was very specific—”

“My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic who would forget to eat if she wasn’t reminded. She doesn’t know real from fiction, just like you, Mr. Garner. We’re not characters in a story. We’re real people who have come to help you and your daughter.” Reid finally reached the door and carefully pushed it open. I tried to crouch down low to get an angle on Garner, but Reid was entirely in the way. I couldn’t see anything. “Don’t you want to help your daughter?”

“My daughter doesn’t really exist. She never did.” Leather creaked again and I could tell that Randall had spun around in his chair, but I still couldn’t see him. “Ask the question!” he demanded with more force.

“Hey, guys…” Spencer called back to us calmly. “Maybe you guys should go wait downstairs.”

“What?” I hissed.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Morgan responded to Spencer.

“Ask the question! Heal me!” Mr. Garner shouted.

I couldn’t hear anything else that was being said. They were too far into the room and their voices had lowered so that their conversation was just theirs. I didn’t know if Reid was getting anywhere with Randall, and I didn’t know if we were going to get the location of Rebecca. Now that we had the bastard, all we needed now was to find his daughter.

Reid started running back down the hall, headed straight for us, yelling, “Run!”

Next thing we knew, the office Mr. Garner was in exploded, shaking the entire house. Reid dove to get further from the blast, and Hotch turned and covered my head with his arm. After the explosion, Hotch and I stood up straight again and made sure that the other was alright before looking over to Morgan and Reid. Morgan was putting out a fire that caught on Spencer’s legs while also helping him up to his feet.

The fire from the explosion started to spread along the hallway, making its way straight for us. We didn’t have much time before the whole house would burn down. I made a dash for the side of the house, calling for the SWAT team and JJ to hurry back downstairs, warning them of the fire that was spreading. Hotch and Morgan were pulling Reid along with them towards the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch asked.

“He had a bomb,” Reid responded, coughing the smoke out of his lungs. I went in front of them and started racing down the steps. “Wait— Stop, stop, stop, stop… Rebecca—”

“Reid, there’s no time for a search.”

Spencer shushed Hotch and pushed his hair out of his face so that he could think more clearly. “Randall was the fisher king, and this is his castle… Rebecca has to be here…” He snapped his fingers when a lightbulb went off in his mind. “The basement! She’s in the basement!”

Everyone started running downstairs, chasing after Spencer who decided to take the lead again. The boys ran into the basement while JJ and I made sure all of the SWAT team got out safely. We weren’t about to leave a man behind after all of this. Once they were all out, JJ and I stood on the grass in front of the house to watch as it burned. I was staring at the front door intently, praying that they would het Rebecca and come out soon, because if they were going to waste another minute inside, I was going to go back in to find them.

Just as I thought it, though, Reid and Morgan came stumbling out, but not Hotch. I ran back up to the front of the house and caught Morgan. “Where’s Hotch?” I questioned. He was coughing too hard to answer. All he could do was point into the house. “Hotch!” I called, continuing up to the door. “Hotch!”

When I was about to take a brave step into the house, Hotch came stumbling out with Rebecca in his arms. I moved out of the way and followed him back into the grass where he gently put her down. I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me.

“You okay?” I asked worriedly.

He nodded. “You?”

I nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Morgan called. “Fire department's on their way! We should get Rebecca to the hospital!”

He was right. Randall was gone and Rebecca needed to get treatment. She had been trapped in that basement for two years— who knew what he did to her, even if she was just his daughter. The fact that his delusion was so strong that he couldn’t even recognize that they were family meant that he could have done horrible things to her. Things that I didn’t want to consider. So the best thing to do was make sure that some doctors could check on her.

JJ, Morgan, and Reid took Rebecca in the car we arrived in. Hotch decided that he was going to stay to make sure the fire would be contained and that the SWAT team would clear the area safely. In the car, however, there was no room for me when they had laid Rebecca down next to JJ in the backseat to make sure that she was comfortable. My only option was to stay with Hotch and wait to get a ride back into town.

When the fire department showed up, they drove onto the grass and tried to maintain the fire spread, attempting to keep it away from the woods surrounding us. As Hotch and I watched, my phone started ringing. I turned around, took a few steps out of the way, and answered the call.

“Y/N?” It was Gideon’s number, but it was Elle’s voice. She had woken up after surgery. She was okay. “Are you there?”

I didn’t realize how silent I had been while just thinking about the weight that lifted off of my chest when I finally got to hear her voice again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, Elle.”

“Did you catch the son of a bitch who did this to me?”

I glanced over my shoulder to look at the burning house. “He’s gone.” I bit at my nails and kicked the gravel under my feet nervously. “Are you okay?”

“Never felt better,” she laughed shortly before wincing in pain. “When can you come visit me?”

“I’m on my way right now. I promise.” I snapped in Hotch’s direction to catch his attention before pointing to my phone and mouthing Elle’s name to him. He nodded, said goodbye to the chief of the fire department, and came over to me. “Hotch and I will be there in a few minutes, okay?” Elle hummed an agreement on the other end. “I love you, Elle.”

“Whatever you say, loser. Just get here as soon as you can,” and she hung up.

I rolled my eyes and bit back a smile. The SWAT team had room for us in one of their trucks and offered to drop us off at the hospital. It was a kind gesture, one they really didn’t have to give us, but they said that they didn’t mind since it was on the way back to their office. In the truck, everyone was just as silent as when we first arrived at the house. Even when they dropped us off at the hospital, they only wished us goodnight in quiet murmurs before we closed the back of the vehicle and they were off again. Hotch and I didn’t watch them drive off. We immediately hurried into the hospital and headed for the room that Elle had been assigned to.

When we got to Elle’s room, I saw Gideon sitting beside her, reading something about the case, and she was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. As Hotch and I entered, however, Gideon stopped reading and Elle broke her trance to look over at us standing in the doorway. She smiled at me as best she could considering the facts. She had only just gotten out of surgery and she was in a lot of pain, and she would be for a long time. The physical and mental wounds of being shot at point blank range wasn’t anything that usually disappeared overnight, no matter how hard Elle would try to convince herself and us otherwise.

Gideon squeezed Elle’s hand gently before standing from his seat and taking his leave from the room, still refusing to look up at me. Once he was gone, I stepped further into the room and took a seat next to Elle’s hospital bed.

“He’s dead,” I told her. My vest was still on and my hair was still pulled back out of my face, which was a tell tale sign that we had just gotten back from a scene, but the fact that Hotch was covered in soot was another sign that something had happened. “We found the girl. She’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good,” Elle smiled.

Hotch was still standing in the doorway, watching Elle from a distance as she slightly struggled to breathe with the oxygen they were pumping into her nose. He gulped and looked at the floor. “I’m going to head out and make sure that the rest of the team is alright.” He glanced at Elle shortly, like he had only mustered enough courage to do so for a few seconds, “I’m glad that you’re here. I’m sorry for sending you home like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hotch,” she insisted, shaking her head to encourage her point. 

Hotch nodded like he was trying to convince himself that she was telling the truth, but it wasn’t quite sticking with him yet. He switched his glance to me, “Are you going to stay here tonight?” I nodded. “Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?”

“If you don’t mind.”

The left side of his mouth curled into a small, shy smile. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” He waited for Elle to look away for a brief moment so that he could steal a second to whisper that he loves me. I whispered it back to him and his smile brightened before he left.

Elle looked at me with a grin, “So… Hotch, huh?” I glared playfully at her, daring her to be careful. “I can’t believe I owe Morgan $20. Is it too late to break up with him?”

I smiled but scrunched my brows in curiosity. “$20?”

“I thought that you would end up going out with him. He didn’t think it was possible. Maybe he knew about you and Hotch this whole time and just wanted my $20.” I hit her good arm gently. “Ow!” she laughed.

“It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, otherwise I would have killed you.” The joke didn’t quite land the way I thought it would. “Sorry,” I doublebacked.

Elle squeezed my hand. “I’m just glad that you’re here and that you’re happy. That’s all a sister could ask for.”

“I love you.”

She smiled behind the oxygen and the pain coursing through her veins. “I love you, too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

[birdwonder]

just thought of the idea of Rohan using his stand on reader and seeing on their page they have a big crush on josuke so Rohan either teases them or helps them get together. i think the idea is cute

|| i am SO sorry this took a while longer than i usually take to write. my holiday has left me without a computer so writing long stories takes forever on a phone but i hope these 3,000 words make up for it :,) its 3am so i doubt i editted properly so ill go through it again tomorrow

Josuke Higashikata | Rohan’s Help / Confession

You and Rohan have been friends for a short time. Less than a year to be honest, and yet you two felt like you were as thick as thieves — an unstoppable duo when it came to your friendship. Both of you complimented each other so well, you being able to improve Rohan’s social skills and how he treated others, and Rohan had been making progress with you to be more confident. A kind yet self-loathing highschool student who is best friends with a prideful and stuck up manga artist, who would have thought?

In the small amount of time you two have known each other, you both have been able to pick on small quirks you had and tell-tale signs of your moods. For example, you were currently leaning on the side of Rohan’s desk as he scribbled away on a piece of paper, desperately trying to figure out a new and inventive pose for his next manga page. Your blank, dull eyes staring into the distance and lack of encouraging comments was all Rohan needed to know that something was up with you. Of course, he wasn’t the best at comfort, not when it’s so early into his progress of becoming a better person, so jumping straight to sympathy and questions was not his go-to plan.

“So, what do you think so far?” Rohan questioned with hope, holding up his sketch book with one hand and gesturing towards it with another, hoping that your thoughts on his work would be at least distracting enough from whatever was plaguing your mind. Unfortunately, you only glanced towards the sheet of stunning, detailed figures and hummed halfheartedly before returning to look at absolutely nothing with your chin pressed into the centre of your palm.

Groaning, the artist tore out the page dramatically to then scrunch it up into a tight paper ball, throwing it into the trash-can beside him in a small fit of annoyance. “Right then,” he burst out abruptly, two hands slamming on his desk and his chair scraping backwards as he got up to emphasis his change in mood, “you’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now because right now I can NOT figure out how to draw this next panel, and I can’t do it when you’re sitting here like a... a...”

“Like a what?” You piped up, one brow quirked up which gave you an atypically fed up expression, one so cold it almost sent shivers down Rohan’s spine.

“Like a killjoy!” He finally said, huffing and puffing his cheeks out. “You’re just sitting there, staring like a corpse and I’m actually trying to talk to you!”

Then, you faltered. Your tightly pressed lips tilted downwards and your brows lowered, returning your expression to it’s well known gentle and kind look, something Rohan had greatly missed the last hour or so. “Oh, I’m sorry Rohan, it’s just, oh never mind.” You mumble your last words, a strange pink tint along your cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the man who valued every single detail he saw.

Rohan then grabbed your shoulders firmly, forcing you to turn and look at him, his eyes narrowed with an intense stare boring into your own pupils. “[F/N], I refuse to take that as an answer, so let’s try again shall we? What. Is. The matter?”

You gulped a little, sucking in your breath while debating whether or not to tell your trusted companion about the problem that ridiculed you or not. You opted no. With a shake of your head, you gave an apologetic look and your frown only went deeper, “sorry Rohan, it’s really stupid and I just don’t want to say it. I mean, it can’t be solved anyways, so I’m sure I’ll get over it soon!” You placed a hand on his shoulder and forced yourself to smile a little, your heart swelling with some joy over the fact Rohan had clearly grown as a person - showing that he cared for the problems that bedevilled you was one large step from where he was when you first met. “Thank you though, really.”

Your gratitude and certainty may have been enough to rest anyone else’s soul, but not Rohan’s. He simply would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Sighing, he released his grip on you, giving you the message that he wasn’t going to pry anymore until he spoke, “I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice.”

Before you could question his words a familiar cry of “Heaven’s Door,” was yelled and you felt your body slowly feel lighter, almost weightless as you watched the skin on your face and arms unfold to reveal small prints of words, words you knew revealed everything there was to know about [F/N] [L/N].

Resistance was futile as you struggled to shift away from Rohan’s approaching form, the back of the chair and the wall behind you trapping you inbetween, prayers being your only tactic of getting out of the hectic situation. “Now let’s see,” Rohan hummed, taking a gentle hold of the pages attached to your face between his thumb and index finger, his eyes scanning each word carefully as though missing a single one would be detrimental.

“Rohan, please don’t,” you begged, fear arising in you from the idea that he would find out the cause of your sullen mood. Fear that was quickly picked up on.

“[F/N] [L/N], sixteen years old... Birthday is... Ah, here we are, something more modern. Cereal for breakfast, and currently stressing over the idea that Josuke Higashikata won’t like her...” Rohan’s out loud reading soon quietened and the look he gave you could only be summarised to ‘really?’

Once he pulled away from you, Heaven’s Door effects subsided and your skin was no longer detached from you. You sighed with relief that you were no longer in such a vulnerable state, calm until you began to lightly pound your fists against Rohan’s chest, unable to actually hurt him since you didn’t have to heart to. “Rohan, that was private information, how could you?!”

Rohan clicked his tongue, using only a finger to press against your forehead to push you away. The perks of you being so docile was getting you to stop any hint of aggression was easier than reciting the alphabet.

“I did it for you so I could help you with your problem!” He argued in attempt to defend himself and cringed slightly, speaking with venom in his voice. “How was I supposed to know that you were so worked up over that idiot and not something sensible?”

“He is not an idiot!” You retorted since you hated whenever either Rohan or Josuke insulted each other. Those two really had the potential to be friends with each other, they just never let it work. Regardless, your main concern was the fact your true feelings were revealed and in the worst possible way. You hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about how you feel, not when you were for sure that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Josuke ... he was amazing. Friendly, strong, funny and whenever he looked with you with those kind eyes and a smile on his plush lips, your heart stopped only to restart beating 1000 beats per minute. You were certain that he was the most perfect person you had ever met, and every memory with him was greatly treasured.

Though you were almost certain he didn’t feel the same. You felt so small compared to him, figuratively that is, and everything he was good at, you seemed to fail at. Confidence, strength, styling the perfect pompadour; you couldn’t even compare to him, even if these all seemed like the most insignificant aspects ever. So, why would he want to be with someone who couldn’t reach his standards ? He wouldn’t.

Your internal self deprecation was silently evident to Rohan as you began to nibble on the bottom of your lip, dejectedly looking down like a lost puppy. No way was he going to let you keep that up, not when he had announced you as a friend to himself and actually cared about how you felt.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rohan groaned at what he was about to do although he knew it was going to be worth it if it meant you weren’t ruining your hang out times anymore. “Alright, we’re going to make you confess to Josuke.” He declared, catching you off guard, and you weren’t able to even question him as a single finger was suddenly pressed upon your lips, sealing your mouth shut with one simple movement.

“Listen and remember this well, [F/N], you are perfect the way you are and as much as I would hate to see Josuke gain anything he doesn’t deserve,” he paused to retract his hand from your face and instead ruffled your hair, treating you like a younger sibling for a second, “I know being with him would make you happy, so I’m going to help you confess your entirely questionable and possibly delusional love for that delinquent.”

You blinked up at Rohan a few times, mouth agape. There was no way that this was happening, just who was this guy and where was the real manga artist you knew?

“Rohan, I appreciate you wanting to help me, I really do, but there’s no need! It’s a lost cause, let’s just get back to what we were doing before - poses right?” Your attempt to change the subject was quickly brushed off like dust on Rohan’s shoulder when he pinched your nose, an audible ‘ow’ squeaking from you.

Your resistance to the situation was irking Rohan to no end, his drive only stepping on the gas each time you tried to refuse his assistance. There was no way he was going to let you suffer in silence. Besides, if he helped two young, dumb and lovesick teens get together then maybe he could have some insight on how to work around the more romantic scenes of his manga, if he was to ever implement them.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This is going to happen and you’re going to thank me for it,” the green hair male stated, eyes heavily trained onto you. You gulped.

You really didn’t know where this was going to go.

——

A band of raging drums had surely replaced your heart.

The hammering sound of sticks against percussion instruments was practically akin to the violent, frantic rhythm that pounded against your chest with the diagnosis resulting to be nervousness.

You sucked in your breath and released the built up carbon dioxide by muttering words of encouragement that Rohan had taught you to rehearse to yourself in case of situations like this. Ironically, he was the one who had put you in this nervous wreck state. His vow to have you confess to Josuke had stuck through pretty solidly leaving you in a cute outfit you definitely could not have afford on your lonesome, [Thank you Rohan.] and standing in front of your crush’s door.

Gulping, you began to hype yourself up.

‘I can do this! I can totally do this. No problems here, none at all!’ The repeated phrases were practically a religious mantra at this point; if you were to even dare forget a single one you’re certain life would be a living Hell. Well your stresses shouldn’t matter anymore, you were here now. Just knock. Knock and say what’s on your mind!

The unremitting worries failed to cease however , eating at your brain like parasites that were only starting to leave once you gathered enough courage and balled your hand into a fist, rapped against the wooden door.

It took less than a minute for the door to be unlocked and opened, revealing the tall, well built figure of the one and only - Josuke. For some reason you felt as though none of this actually happening right there and then, like it was some dream or even a nightmare you were going to wake up from any second. You quickly rubbed your eyes to see if that was true. When you opened them, he was still there, his usual stylised school uniform replaced with a regular white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. It wasn’t an unwelcome look but certainly threw you off for a second seeing as it was rare to see him wear anything other than his uniform.

“[F/N], hey!” He greeted,his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of you while a hand gripped the door frame, “didn’t think it’d be you at the door. What’s up?”

The moment he smiled at you, you knew that you had to this. How he instantly had made you feel relaxed would have seemed impossible to you five minutes ago, now you felt as though things would go perfectly. If not for the persistent nagging voice in the back of your head.

“Hi Josuke! I was hoping that I could maybe uhm, talk to you! About something that is. Something really important.” Your wavering voice had caused some concern to flash in Josuke’s eyes; the way he looked down at you with such a caring expression made you want to hide your face into a pillow and squeal.

He responded easily with, “oh sure, is everything alright?” Really, you weren’t even sure if things were alright or if they were going to be at all.

You doubts rose up again and a jumbled ball of words was suddenly caught in your throat, countless words and ways to say your thoughts conjuring up but not a single thing is said. If only you had more confidence — Rohan had spent so long trying to get you to perfect your confession and despite all that effort, you were still struggling.

Glancing down, you noticed that your fingers were a plain sign of your awkwardness. They constantly switched from fiddling with the fabric of your outfit to thumbs twiddling with each other, neither things helping you in the end.

“[F/N]...? You don’t look like your usual self, where’s that cute smile of your’s, huh?”

Oh god, did he just call your smile ‘cute’? Did that just make talking even harder or ten times easier? This boy was going to be the death of you!

Teeth lightly nibbled on your low lip as you argued in your head what to do. You really don’t know if you could ever have the courage to even approach him like this, let alone think about asking him out. Besides, all of Rohan’s efforts would go to waste.

“Josuke!” The sudden change of your volume had clearly surprised the teenager, his brows raising. “I— I have something serious to tell you and I’m sorry for making it so weird so far, it’s just really hard to get through what I want to say.”

Facing him was just too much. You couldn’t handle the idea of looking up to see an uncomfortable, angered, disgusted or any expression that would send you hurdling down a pit of regret. Instead, you stared down at the ground although you paid no real attention to it, your hand clutching at the clothing over your heart, almost as though you were trying to steady the rapid beating drums within your ribcage.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “I’m not the best at being outgoing or confident, and as my friend I know you know that, and you’re the exact opposite! You’re bold and kind to everyone and everything about you is incredible. Saying this I think I fully realised why I lo—.”

Again, the words are caught in your throat and you’re visibly struggling, almost choking on what you want to say. None of it goes unnoticed by Josuke, who had been initially taken back by the praise and tone you were using. His smile quickly returned when things became obvious to him, much softer and sweeter than before, his plush lips turning upward all thanks to your adorable stuttering.

He reached out with a large and surprisingly softer than you would have guessed hand, his palm resting against your cheek as he guided you to look up at him with both your eyes staring into each other’s.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The question was short and simple though it still took some time to process. You made a small, questioning ‘eh’ sound to which Josuke laughed at.

“You don’t have to stress so much, whatever you’re going to say I’m sure I’m going to like hearing,” he told you, stepping to the side so that you now had room to enter his house, a hand gesturing for you to come inside. “Maybe things would be easier if we had something to drink? My mum’s not home so we can watch a movie too!”

You had no idea how things got to this but you didn’t want to ask. If what Josuke said was true and that he was really going to like whatever you said then, why rush? It was probably better to wait for when the atmosphere was much more relaxed anyways. Things just seemed more right that way. The relationship between you and Josuke were always so casual so it was best to confess just like that. He was a serious God send to be so nice and understanding.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ before walking through the door with small pep in your step and butterflies swarming in a welcomed fashion in your stomach. Josuke followed you, closing the door behind him as the two of you started to strike up a conversation about your week and what movie the two of you wanted to watch, every worry and care flying free and becoming lost in the sky.

From across the street stood a smiling manga artist, ready to walk home with nothing but pride in his heart for his shy and growing friend. All he really had left to worry about was whether or not Josuke would treat you right.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #jjba x reader #platonic #rohan x reader #but its platonic #request

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.17

*crawls out of a hole* HOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLYYYY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

Yes. I am alive.

Yes I had a rough patch of life over the last few months.

And jeeeeesus, I think I wrote the beginning of this chapter like 3 times....

BUT IT’S HERE. AND I’M SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG. At least the next chapter will be interesting and will introduce some new characters!!! I am definitely feeling the writing juices flowing~

First Chapter -> HERE Previous Chapter -> HERE Next Chapter -> SOON

''I think this neighborhood suits you,'' started April as both women were comfortably seated at a table in a cozy café. Vee couldn't help her quiet chuckle, crossing her arms as her eyes ventured to the large window that offered a view to the street. ''I think it does too..., but I'll be so far from everything. Mostly far from Donnie. He's downtown and I'd be uptown...'' ''It's not so bad! You know these guys can travel fast and they know the city like no one else.'' True. A small sigh escaped the artist, her attention back to the other. She was glad the reporter had answered her call. Vee confessed feeling stupid for her sudden departure and her attitude, but April had been quick to waive those away, answering that all that mattered was that her friend was safe. The only thing left to do was to move forward. Harlem seemed like a nice place. It was mostly known for its nightlife and its jazz influences, to which Vee felt drawn to. Maybe she'd have opportunities up here, who knows? Her train of thoughts came to a stop as a waitress got to their table; a lovely african american woman adorning a dark afro like a crown. Vee did admire her style, noticing her septum piercing and her 'au naturel' look. It didn't seem like much, but so many people could ever inspire the artist, and that was the beauty of living in New York. As the orders were taken and the women left with coffees in hands, proper discussions could finally start. ''So...starting a family?'' started Vee. ''Since when were you two planning that little adventure?'' April's smile was soft: ''We were talking about it for several months, but only recently did we really start to properly consider it.'' ''Even with both your lifestyles? … You wouldn't be the most 'typical' and 'calm' family.'' ''I don't think that should stop us, or anyone. … It's something we both want, Vee, and we're ready to work for it.'' ''I'm not saying the opposite, don't worry!'' quickly reassured Vee. ''… I guess I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea. I never really thought about having kids, so the thought process kinda escapes me.'' ''Oh?'' the reporter slightly cocked her head to one side, curious. ''I don't want to say I'm surprised, but still am nonetheless.'' The other woman seemed amused: ''There's so many things I have yet to accomplish.... Getting a child is the least of my worries right now. I guess I just don't really feel compelled at the idea.'' ''In that case I can understand,'' added April with a soft smile. ''It's only natural that you'd want to advance your career and get more stability, I get that.'' The conversation paused as their food arrived. But as soon as both were left alone again, the reporter couldn't help squinting a little, now curious: ''Although.... do you think you could ever have kids with Donnie?'' Vee almost spat her coffee, her thoughts suddenly rolling at a franctic pace. She frowned, reminiscing all those times they had sex without any protection. ''I, uh... I'm not sure,'' frankly answered the artist. ''I've never really thought about it, but now that you mention it, I should verify with him.'' ''I think it'd be in both your interests to set things clear. At least you'll know where you both stand in this...'' ''Yeah … that's for sure.'' What if he wanted kids? Could it be possible? At least for now her cycle had been steady and normal, so there was no fear regarding that. And the relationship was still in its early stages – it was too soon to think about that! Oh, those thoughts would plague her mind for the rest of the day, she knew that...   ''Anyway, enough kid talk,'' said April, thankfully interrupting Vee's thinking. ''I wanted to discuss apartment and furniture with you.'' ''What, you wanna know how I'll decorate my fortress of solitude?'' playfully commented the artist. ''Oh come on now...'' ''Just kidding, just kidding, don't worry. What's on your mind?'' ''Since I'll be moving in with Casey and he pretty much already has everything in terms of furniture... I was thinking about giving you some of the stuff we have at the apartment. Fridge, oven, whatever you need.'' The artist lightly frowned. ''Wait... give? April, I can't just receive without giving in return. Tell me your price and I'll gladly give you so-'' ''Vee, please,'' gently cut the reporter. ''… I know I'm putting you in a difficult situation and things can turn expensive. I want to help in any way I can, plus you can always repay me in other ways. Don't worry about it. I've given it some thought and I'm at peace with that.'' And the artist was absolutey thankful. Knowing she didn't make the best of incomes, this help felt like a miracle. … Just thinking about all her future expenses was enough to make her head spin, but at least with Donnie's help – and now April – she knew she could get a good footing and proceed without immense struggles. ''Also,'' added April, ''I know you don't have the best of conversations with your parents regarding your choice of living in New York, so I wanted to ease things up by giving you a good headstart and make them less worried.'' Vee softly sighed, although showing a small smile. She knew the brunette had heard some bits and pieces of conversations ever since she moved in. Even if the dialogues had been in French, it was not hard to notice the argumentative nature of those calls. ''I, uhm … it's been almost a month since I spoke to any of them, so there's nothing to worry about for now,'' said Vee. ''Is everything alright?'' ''The less I talk to them, the better! So, yes, everything is fine,'' tried to reassure the artist. April seemed good with the answer, but there was no denying that for Vee to avoid her family, it would probably blow back to her face in a nasty way. But today was not the day to think about such matter. Breakfast done and over with, both women were now on their way to visit the apartments. The first one proved to be a complete disaster; mold found in the bathroom and under the kitchen sink, only two windows and barely any natural light coming in, a broken wardrobe door in the bedroom. The landlord didn't seem like the most caring person either, insisting that he'd get the needed repairs done once a new tenant would move in. ''Those things have a cost, you know?'' he would say. … And this apartment will be a hard pass, you know? Vee couldn't believe that she got fooled by the advertisment online. It seemed so nice... At least the second stop was promising. The lot was at the top floor of a five story high building. The entrance was a small hallway that had one door to the left which gave to the bedroom (with a window!), and a door to the right that gave to the bathroom. The end of the hallway gave to an open area to which the left part was planned for a living room, and the right had space for a kitchen, the area delimited by a side hall that gave enough surface for an extension of the counter tops. Some windows gave enough light into the place, as well as a nice view on the street and buildings around. Plus, the living room windows were tall and large enough, one being an entryway to the emergency staircase outside the building. It was perfect. *** Her step was light as she made her way back to the lair, the greatest grin plastered to her face. She did it! Well … almost! But it was at least a first step in the right direction. Her first point of interest when she arrived was Donnie's workspace, but she found it empty, instantly bringing a small frown on Vee's features. Maybe she should check the garage next? Her attention snapped when she heard a sharp sound – a can being opened. Turning around, she slightly jumped as she spotted Mikey nearby, an orange crush drink in his hand. '' 'Sup?'' ''Jesus, Mikey, you gave me a mini heart attack,'' she breathed out. ''Oops, my bad,'' he said, taking a sip. ''You lookin' for Don? He just got out on patrol with Raph.'' ''… Aren't you guys supposed to lay low for a while with the Purple Dragons and Foot Clan situation?'' The orange clad one shrugged: ''Going out on patrol doesn't mean we're looking for them, you know? We still gotta look out for the bad ones on the streets. Plus, going out in small numbers attracts less attention.'' ''Huh... touché,'' admitted Vee. ''I guess the good news can wait, then.'' ''What good news?'' The artist's grin was back: ''I might have found a new apartment! The landlord just needs to do a credit check and then, if it's all good, the place will be mine.'' The terrapin's smile was soon as big as Vee's: ''Yo! That's awesome! Where is it? How big is it?'' The woman didn't wast any time to grab a blank sheet of paper and a pencil laying around on Donnie's desk, already starting to sketch the layout of the apartment. Deep in her explanations, she did not notice Leonardo now standing near, trying to take a peek from behind. ''What's that?'' he asked. Vee slightly jumped again, already on the lookout for the leader. ''JEEZE, what's with you guys scaring me tonight?!'' Leo showed an amused smile, arms crossed before him as he took some pride in that comment. ''I'm an excellent ninja. Getting to scare you means I'm doing a good job.'' ''Alright, don't get too cocky.'' She briefly sighed, next bringing the paper to clearer view. ''Behold, this is probably my next apartment!'' The blue clad mutant took some seconds to observe the layout, pensive. ''… There's quite some windows in there. I'll have to get Donnie to secure the place so no one can spot you and get in.'' ''Leo! Chill!'' faintly laughed Vee. ''I don't even completely own the place yet. Plus I'll be on the fifth floor; I'd like to see anyone get in other than by the emergency staircase or the entry door.'' ''I'm sorry I am cursed with the leader plague. I always have to think many steps ahead.'' Vee's smile was soft: ''Don't worry, it's appreciated. But now it's time to celebrate! There's no place for worry tonight!'' ''Now we're talkin'!'' added Mikey playfully, rubbing his hands together. ''… Watchu wanna do?'' The artist left her paper back on her boyfriend's desk, a smug smile now showing on her features. ''Donnie and I do have a little secret stash of red wine, and I fully plan on going through one bottle tonight.'' ''Hell yeah!'' Mikey was now nudging his brother's arm with his elbow. ''Care for a drink as well? Come ooooonnnnnnnn.'' Leo was squinting, trying to appear severe, but it didn't take long for him to conceed with a grin, his posture relaxing. ''Alright. Just one.'' *** Vee was delightfully surprised to learn that Leo also had a taste for red wine, happily sharing her bottle with him – and of course he did take more than one drink. Meanwhile Mikey had opted for beer, some cans already resting in the fridge. It felt good to kick back and just be happy, living in the present and have no worries. But soon celebrations took an interesting turn, Vee definitely inspired by her luck and feeling a little bold. An idea came to her mind as Mikey was showing her some stuff he was hoarding, especially when it came to hair dye bottles. She had always wanted to try a new hair color... It didn't take long before everyone was set up: Vee sitting in a chair with a towel over her shoulders, hair in layers. Mikey had ''borrowed'' some of Donnie's latex gloves (used for when he was tattooing), already at the task of applying the chosen color. Meanwhile Leonardo was sitting nearby, keeping company and enjoying the show. ''It's gonna look dope as fuck,'' commented the orange clad turtle, hair dye brush in hand as he was spreading some color. ''I'm kinda nervous about it, though,'' added Vee. ''Last time I did something to my hair, it was only some blonde streaks here and there. … It's my first time going full on with a non-natural color.'' ''There's never nothing wrong with going wild once in a while,'' said Leo. The artist threw him a glance, somewhat amused. ''Says the guy who seems to overworry a LOT about anything.'' ''Hey, I have my moments, alright,'' chuckled the leader, next taking a sip of wine. Mikey tsked; ''What, your last wild thing was to shorten your training time or somethin'?'' ''Nooooo, I-...'' Leo lightly frowned, his lips forming a thin line. A sharp sigh left him as he confessed: ''I asked Mikasa out.'' Both Mikey and Vee's gazes were now locked on him, their smiles wide. ''Finally!'' let out the woman. ''How did it go? Is everything good?'' ''Spill the tea, bro!'' chided in Mikey. Leo's smile was shy, carefully choosing his words. ''We're still figuring some things out, I guess? It all started when we got to you both at the Maneki Neko... I brought her back to her apartment and we kissed. … I dunno how to explain it, it just felt right at that moment.'' ''So far, so good,'' commented Vee. ''What's next?'' ''I'll admit that I chickened out after that,'' continued the leader. ''I just didn't know yet if I was ready to get into some sort of relationship. I was a douche and I didn't say or text a word to her after a couple of days.'' ''You're a fucking dumbass,'' added the other turtle, slightly scolding as he parted some more layers of Vee's hair. Leo raised his glass a little: ''On that I agree, BUT! I kicked my own ass and finally got back in touch with her yesterday. I explained the situation to her and she agreed to meeting up and talk about it a little more. … I'm just-'' His eyes met Vee's, somehow pleading. ''How can I know she really likes me? For crying out loud, how did you know you liked Donnie?'' The artist couldn't help her laugh, surprising both mutants. Leo didn't really know how to react. ''Did … did I say something wrong orrrr?'' ''No, no! Good gosh, no!'' tried to rectify Vee, calming her laughter. ''Oh jeeze, Leo, you and Mikasa are just so freakin' adorable. …. Would you believe me if I told you that she kinda asked me the same question a while ago?'' The blue one showed a smirk, amused: ''Welp, I won't hide that I had a smiliar conversation with Donnie as well.'' ''See!'' pointed the woman. ''Dammit, you two. Mikasa likes you, okay? You guys … all four of you, there are people who're gonna like you and even love you for who you are, no matter the fact that you're mutants. Damn, get that drilled in your heads, alright?!'' Mikey couldn't contain a chuckle: ''You're pretty straight-forward when you get some drinks in you, Vee.'' ''I only speak the truth without reservation,'' she added, taking a sip of wine. She savored her beverage for some seconds before speaking up again: ''But to answer your question, Leo, I knew I liked Donnie when everything felt comfortable. I mean … whatever I would say or do, I knew it wouldn't mind him. … His presence is like a never-ending warm hug around me. I feel true, I feel seen...'' Her eyes got back to him. ''And if you feel like you can be your true self around Mikasa, then I say that it's worth a shot.'' ''I'll take your word for it,'' replied Leo, smiling and slightly lifting his glass in cheer. *** Hours later and Donnie couldn't be any more glad to be back home. Patrol had been pretty boring and tame tonight, but at least he got to spend some time with Raph, which was never a bad thing, at times. Hanging his gear for the night, he then proceeded to his workstation, only to frown a little once he spotted a sheet of paper with some sort of layout draw on it.

By the looks of it, it seemed to be an apartment, the gears of his mind running as he also recognized Vee's handwriting. ''Bro!'' His attention snapped, suddenly realizing that he had been deep in thoughts. He turned to the source of his calling, then noticing Mikey with a big smile on his face. Donnie didn't have time to say anything that his brother spoke again: ''I have the immense pleasure to present to you the world-premiere revelation of Vee 2.0.'' He did some theatrical gestures before bowing and backing out of view in a comical way, finally giving view to Vee who had been hiding behind him. The purple clad turtle's eyes grew wide as soon as he noticed the artist's new hair color. Teal. A lush dark green color that reflected so well when exposed to any lights. ''Whoa! That's so cool!'' blurted the tall terrapin, already approaching the artist. One of his hands was still holding the paper, but his other one couldn't stay put, gently taking some strands of Vee's hair and having a closer look at the color. He couldn't erase his grin, his eyes scanning every inches. ''You should thank Mikey, he's the one who did most of the work,'' informed the woman. The tall terrapin did throw a glance towards his brother who was still nearby: ''No wonder it's perfect. There's always a positive outcome to any of his projects.'' ''Aww, thanks bro!'' added the orange clad mutant, somehow surprised, yet glad to hear such compliment. ''So … you like it?'' asked Vee with a timid smile. ''Like it? I love it!'' answered Donnie, his gaze meeting hers. ''It really suits you. … Any specific reason for that change, though?'' The woman had noticed the sheet of paper in his hand, taking it in turn and pointing the sketch she did. ''If all goes well, this little lot will be mine.'' Donnie's happiness was renewed: ''For real?!'' A simple nod from Vee was enough for him to lift her off the ground in an embrace, unable to stop himself from spinning around a little, obviously feeling overjoyed. Relief also washed over him, knowing how the whole process was stressing the artist – and himself as well, there was no lying there. ''You did it, baby,'' he gently said, loud enough for only her to hear, nuzzling her as he came to a stop while still hugging her. ''Almost, but yeah. Let's hope for the best...,'' replied Vee in the same tone, her arms gently coming around his neck. ''Get a room, you two!'' piped in Raph's tone, playful. The couple looked his way, the red clad terrapin making his way to Mikey. ''Come on, let's give these two nerds some space. Ya wouldn't want to catch their cooties.'' ''Hah! You're just jealous!'' added Donnie comically, next suddenly hurrying to his room, Vee still in his arms and now laughing. Raph was rather unimpressed, a sharp exhale of air leaving him as he glanced from the running one back to his younger brother. ''…. The day I'll be jealous of that bean pole, assume that I'm delirious or somethin' like that.'' *** It wasn't long before they were found in bed, exchanging everyday clothing for comfortable wears. Donnie was laying first, Vee next nestled in-between his legs, her back against his form. The artist was not finished, drink-wise, so she shared some more wine with the terrapin, a screen mounted to a telescopic arm brought over them so they could watch any videos they desired. It was during moments like this that Vee felt at complete peace, loved, and the happiest. The warmth that invaded her could only confirm that she was at the right place with the right person. And yet the same question kept repeating itself in her mind since her conversation with April. ''Donnie, are we compatible?'' she asked in a shy tone. The mutant slightly frowned, his gaze still on the screen. ''Define 'compatible','' he asked. ''Can we procreate?'' His body and muscles suddenly tensed. Both were now staring at eachother, not giving a damn about the video anymore, the turtle trying to find his words. ''… Uhm, well, no. I don't think so. … Wh- Why are you asking this?'' Vee shrugged: ''Well, we've been having unprotected sex and I don't take any contraceptive pills. I'm just curious.... How can you be sure that we're not?'' He sighed briefly, his thoughts running a hundred miles per hour. The video on screen was still going on, the subject suddenly a blur. But that didn't matter. ''First of all, we're not the same specie.'' ''Ok then, why can tigers and lions create ligers? Why can donkeys and horses create mules?'' ''Because to their roots, they are the same. As for us, we come from two different branches. I'm a reptile, you're a mammal; there's a huge spacing inbetween us. Plus, I'm suspecting the mutagen has something to do with it, as it mostly prevents us from contracting human diseases, amongst other things.'' Vee crossed her arms, diverting her gaze, slightly feeling uneasy as she circled her drink slowly and pensively. ''… You do make sense. … I guess I was mostly biased by the fact that you do present humanoid features.'' She felt one of Donnie's hands to her cheek, bringing back her attention on him. ''… Did you want to have a child with me?'' he asked in a hushed tone, forever soft. Vee suddenly blushed, frowning a little. ''No! I mean- uh. Based on your explanations, no. Also I'm not ready for that and it's too early in the relationship to know. I- shit, I dunno,'' she blabbered. The terrapin's smile was soft, amused by her reaction. ''Hey, don't worry, I was just asking! … I guess I'm just wondering too if you ever wanted one. If that was the case, I wouldn't want to prevent you from doing so...'' ''What? You mean you'd let me hook up with a human guy only so I can get banged up?'' questionned the woman, confused, as she sat up straight and was still looking at the other. ''Hell to the no - yuck. The whole pregnancy shebang doesn't appeal to me anyway.'' ''Adoption is also an option,'' added Donnie, matter-o-factly. ''That's pretty much this family's case!'' ''For sure, and I think it's very admirable, but raising a child is still a huge deal in itself.'' She sighed, timidly rubbing the back of her neck. ''… Sorry I brought that up, I was just curious. Ever since I spoke with April, it has been bugging me. I'm really not ready for that chapter in my life and I don't think I'll ever be, but I wanted to know your opinion on that.'' Donnie rejoined her, one of his arms snaking around her form. He was softly nuzzling the top of her head, keeping her close. ''Whatever you choose or decide, I'll always stand by your side, loving every moments – every seconds - spent with you. We build our own happiness, and that doesn't mean it has to imply a child in the future. … As long as you're happy, so am I.'' ''I know. … I do feel kinda weird for not wanting a child though,'' mumbled Vee. ''Hey,'' intervened the mutant. ''You're not weird, believe me. Having a child is not an obligation. This is your body, your choice, and I will forever respect it.'' ''Oh, you better,'' smirked the artist in return.

#chapter #writing #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #fanfic #fancharacter #oc #selfinsert #donatello x oc #donatello x selfinsert

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 6 - Games

(I’m not entirely happy with how the second quarter of this writing came out, mostly because I don’t know the first thing about Grim Fandago. I did a little research, but still not as confident about it. Hope it still turned out good regardless.)

Vivi and Lewis sat together on the couch of Vivi’s home, chilling music haunting the space around them. It sounded like a mixture of sirens and someone banging loudly on metal. In a way, it reminded them of some of the noises Arthur made when he busied himself with his work. Whether it be at Kingsmen Mechanics, or on his downtime, the clang of metal always seemed to be ringing.

Still, it was a nice combination, certainly befitting of the atmosphere. Well, at least in terms of the game being played. Her friends always seemed to be surprised by the kind of stuff she enjoyed. Who would think that the sweater and scarf wearing, blue haired girl with more general excitement for the world around here would be interested in horror and mysteries?

She certainly didn’t look it, but then again, looks could be deceiving.

Lewis was content relaxing at her side, watching her as she played. Truth be told, he couldn’t really follow a lot of what was happening. It wasn’t that the game was poorly designed, but rather that it seemed a lot of things were not told to whomever was playing on the surface level. Characters in this story spoke far more cryptically. They spoke like cult maniacs, and they would know. A couple too many close calls, crossing the wrong path.

It made him feel a little uneasy, at least until recognizing that at least in the current situation, it was only a game. They had done their best to steer clear of any other dangers. Arthur was probably the most thankful for that.

His arm reached over, pulling the bluenette closer to him, her offering a smile in turn. She took her eyes off the screen, long enough to turn her bright gaze up at him, “Enjoying yourself Lew?”

He smiled back down to her, “I’m always enjoying myself when I’m with you.”

“Didn’t take you for much of the ‘sit down and watch their girlfriend play video games type.’”

“Well then you don’t know me all that well.” He planted a kiss along her forehead, letting her get back to playing. She seemed to be in some otherworldly hospital, nothing but the color of rust covering the screen. The path her character walked on was nothing but steel grating, feet ‘clanging’ with each step she made him take. The hospital itself seemed to be more like a maze than what a normal layout would be like. Some of the rooms he could pick out as ones he had seen her go into earlier in the game.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, “Why didn’t you invite Arthur over?”

“Oh, you know how he is with,” she set the control down, making air quotes with her fingers, “scary games.”

“But it’s not even that scary. I mean sure, some of the places look unsettling, but it’s not like the graphics are super detailed.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem like his type of thing. I’m sure he could find something to get scared at.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Vivi leaned over again, offering him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Besides, it gives me some time to spend with you.” Yes, and he was never going to turn down an opportunity like this. His smile grew, nearly ear to ear as he heard her shout, “Take this you nurses!”

----

Arthur and Lewis sat together at the desk in the latter man’s room. The Peppers seemed like the kind of people that didn’t have much in the form of technological entertainment, and Lewis seemed to follow suit, well mostly. Phones were kept to allow for easy communication. Since the three friends started their little “hunts,” the computer was a good source in terms of research. Each member had one of their own, though the various content on each one was vastly different.

The Pepper son carried an extra chair into his room, giving his friend a place to sit that wouldn’t create distance between them, nor would force him to stand. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to have the guys handle searching for stuff while Vivi checked through books. Guess that was a bonus to having a girl that worked around all kinds of books for a living.

There was only so much the two of them could take before they needed a break. Maybe it was just that the bluenette was able to help keep their focus, something they were lacking here. The blond’s came with sparks of inspiration, and the two friends figured a little down time would do them some good.

Sometimes it almost felt hard to come by with how ‘gung ho’ Vivi could be. Even so, they both still loved her.

Arthur had begun going over some sketches he had made when the voice acting kicked in. It was obvious to all of them Lewis loved cooking, so much so to helping his family any chance he got. And of course, something they bonded over was gaming. Each one of them had their own specific genre, and a game to pair with it.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he had poked around with games his taller friend liked? What did that say about him as a friend? Maybe…?

Arthur leaned over, eyes peering at the screen. Well, it certainly wasn’t anything he was expecting. Oh no wait, once it began to go more in depth with the world, he began to understand. He had no doubts the slight spanish inspired nature of the game attracted Lewis to it.

He kept himself quiet, content at his friend’s side as he watched. It was some kind of adventure based game, lots of collecting items and using them in other places to get more items. Not exactly his type of game, but he could see the appeal of a puzzle based game. Putting the three friends’ heads together, they could work out just about any one. Each of them brought a unique perspective, looking at a situation from all angles.

Even if he felt that his portion was nowhere near the level of his other two friends.

Lewis’ head turned, taking notice of the blond observing. He found his smile again, or rather the one that he gave to his friends. There was something softer to that smile, inviting the warmth shared between them, “You alright Artie?”

“Yeah. Just watching.”

“I thought you only liked action games.”

“I never said that.” Suuuuure. It wasn’t hard to tell the blond was backpedaling on the accusation.

“Do you uhh, mind if I keep watching?” As if he even needed to ask.

“Of course not.”

----

Arthur Wins!

Vivi tried not to toss her control to the side in annoyance. She probably should have seen this coming. What on earth was she thinking when she agreed to partake in his favorite game? There was a reason it was his favorite, and the one thing he could always count on to beat them at. A wide grin covered his face, falling back against the couch. The three of them decided to come over to his house for a change.

And when he proposed the challenge at some rounds of Smash Bros… it was almost like he was baiting her into playing with him. Who was she to turn down an offer when he was acting so smug about it.

Oh, she was going to wipe that grin right off his face.

She huffed, facing away from her gloating opponent. A playful nudge was what she received in return for this sulky gesture, “Aww come on, don’t be a sore loser Vivi.”

“You’ve won every round we’ve played.”

“I’ve warned you every time we do this.” He has, but it never seemed to make a difference. There had to be another angle she could tackle this problem from. It couldn’t have been the character she was using, as he would either have a good counter for whomever she picked, or she was just confident she might be able to throw him for a loop with someone new. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work.

It couldn’t have been the stage. The three of them played enough times to have them memorized, and Arthur probably knew just as much, if not more. So what could she do?

Oh wait. She knew.

The bluenette raised her arm along the back of the couch, “Lewis, can you come here?”

“What are you doing?”

The Pepper man stepped through the doorway, “Yes Vivi?”

She was quick to pass him a controller, “I need your help.”

“W-Wait!”

“Alright.”

One round later… Vivi wins!

Now it was the blond’s turn to sulk. Of course, when she couldn’t win alone, she had to recruit someone else to help her. A huff escaped from his lips, turning a bit away from her now. Salty. That was how someone might describe him right? Vivi leaned over, a smug look on her face as she gave him a little nudge, “Don’t be such a sore loser Artie.”

“You only won because Lewis helped you, and then he let you win.”

The man in question gave a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Artie.”

“You know what, one more game. I’m going to beat both of you this time.”

His two friends just gave an endearing laugh.

----

It was late at night, the only light coming through the home was the dim of the television screen. The Yukino household was near silence, Vivi already having gone to bed, as well as the rest of her relations… so then who could still be up at this hour?

A human with spiky red and black hair relaxed along the couch, controller in hand. The screen displayed a white wolf, a disc with flames hovering just above its back. The wolf’s body was covered in black markings, the graphics making it look like the markings themselves were alive. The landscapes of the game were in a similar style, flowers growing behind the wolf as it ran.

A smile formed on the human’s face.

He set the controller to the side, letting the game’s music quietly echo in the room. The volume was turned down low enough that it would not wake anyone else in the household. It gave him a sense of longing… or perhaps better a sense of nostalgia. It reminded him of home, the soft tunes taking his mind back to a time long in the past. Everything was so different now.

A soft clearing of someone’s voice made him turn his head.

Vivi’s grandmother staring at him.

His smile faltered, especially when she began to step closer to him. She had always been wary of him, from the moment Vivi brought him home, and that feeling only grew when she declared she was keeping him. It was no surprise she had little to say about his sudden change in appearance. So then what was he bracing himself for? A scolding? Her trying to throw him out? Threats?

She might be old, but she still had a lot of fire left in her.

Instead, she found herself settling down on the couch, right next to him. That was unexpected.

The music continued to play as the two sat in silence. What was he supposed to say to her? Any thought he had became blank, red eyes drifting over to her form every now and then. After a while, he head raised up, “音楽はいいです.”

Mystery blinked, head turning back to the game. Did she miss their hold home as much as he did? His hands found the controller again, finding more investment, if only to give both of them a sense of home, “はい。 はい、そうです.”

----

(Translations in order: The music is nice / Yes. Yes it is.)

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #my writing #my submission

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: Here

Rating: Teen & Up

Chapter: 1/? (More chapters to come a little later in Dec + Early Jan!) 

Summary: A loose crossover between Carry On and parts of I'll Give You The Sun. "He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured."

Carry On Countdown, Day 10 - Crossover @carryon-countdown​

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Social Anxiety, Crossover, Pining Baz, Artist Baz, Space Enthusiast Simon, Star Gazing, Anxious Thoughts,  Carry On Countdown 2020 Day 10

Words: 2,145

Baz

I need to stop thinking about grey, slippery roads and black shrouds. About the purple under my Father’s dull eyes, and the red of my Aunt’s anger. I need to stop thinking about me - About my life. My head is too loud. Too noxious. I need someone else to take my mind for a while. I need to see. To paint. And so, I search for a subject. 

Dragging my binoculars across the bleak, colourless houses, I search, desperately, for even a glimpse of a hue. But the colours are slipping from the world again. They always do when I’m trapped in my head.

And then I see them - The movers - so far from colourless that I’m dizzied. They’re great work horses, both of them - One chestnut, and one palomino - Hulking a grandfather clock up the house-next-door’s stairs. I’m zooming in, before I have time to reconsider - Into the stretch of navy against the flex of their arms, the rose flush of their foreheads, the tan swath of smooth stomach revealed each time they lift their arms. And then ... Shit. 

I drop the binoculars onto the floor, my body following swiftly behind them. Because, on the roof of the house, there’s a boy pointing a telescope directly at me. Fucking Hell. How long has he even been there?

I risk a glance over the top of my windowsill. He’s wearing a tatty purple jumper, and there’s a mess of bronze curls tangled atop his head. Even without the binoculars, I can see that he’s grinning at me. Is he laughing at me, already? Does he know what I was doing? That I was watching the movers? Does he think that I’m ...? He must. Why else would I be ogling them. God. I feel the dread pinching at my throat, and try to tether my mind, so that it doesn’t get away from me again. Maybe he’s just a smiley person. Maybe he thinks I was looking at his clock. That’s equally as plausible, surely? And, I mean, he has a telescope. Dickheads don’t tend to have telescopes, do they?

Tugging at the ends of my hair, I stand. When he sees me he waves, but before I have a chance to reciprocate, he’s reaching into his pocket, drawing his arms backwards, and lobbing something straight at me. (Maybe he is a dickhead, after all). 

On reflex, I stick out my hand. The unknown object slapping hard against my skin, as I close my fingers around it. 

“Nice catch!” He yells. His voice deep and bright, with a definite Northern tinge. I decide that I like it. It suits him. 

But, I don’t know what to say back. So, I don’t. Instead, I examine his potentially dangerous ‘gift’ - Spinning the rock around in the palm of my hand. It’s small (About the size of a pound coin) and covered in irregular lightening-like cracks. What am I supposed to do with it? Do I throw it back? Why did he even throw it at me, in the first place? I don’t know, but I slip it into my back pocket for safe-keeping, anyway. 

When I look back at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, he’s turned himself back towards the sky. Too focused on looking through his telescope to notice me. Which, to be honest, is odd. I mean, it’s daytime. What could he possibly be looking at? 

Even though I’m curious, I don’t stick around to find out. I’m worryingly off-kilter, and I need to rebalance. I hadn’t prepared myself for meeting a new person. I wasn’t ready. And so, I run to the place that I know best, to recuperate - The Art Institute. Where I can carry out further recon on the studio. 

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

It was a good, productive sketch session. Nobody caught me peeping through the window, and I was able to get a few decent body references down. But … I don’t feel my usual post-art calm. My mind is still racing (Although, with a different genre of thought than earlier). 

Every over time I have visited, the models have been women. Posing demurely, with a bowl of fruit or silks. Arms placed, to partially protect their modesty. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. But today … it was a bloke. 

I don’t have a problem with that (Not really). There’s nothing wrong with blokes. And there’s nothing wrong with naked blokes, either. I’m mature enough to handle that. A body is a body. A sketch is a sketch. And I’m an artist first, queer person second. I just … hadn’t expected it. And I don’t like to be caught off guard. So, I’m feeling slightly rattled. I just need to get home, and get back to normality. To safe things - Like a beach scene, or a self-portrait. Familiar things. No more surprises.

And yet, a few steps into my walk back home, I see the guy from the roof leaning against a nearby tree, the same lopsided-grin aimed over at me. I blink, confirming his existence, and then he’s talking. Stood, barely 3 metres in front of me, in the dirt. 

“How was class?” 

He says it like it isn’t the strangest thing in the world that he’s here, with me, where he really has no reason to be. Like it isn’t only just slightly beaten in its absurdity by me, sketching propped-up on a wall outside, rather than inside, the studio. Like we aren’t complete strangers (Because, no matter how much he may be smiling at me, we don’t even know each other's names yet).

‘Yeah, sorry, I kinda’ followed you. I wanted to check out the woods, but I wasn’t sure of the way. So … I just tagged along. Figured you wouldn’t mind. Don’t worry though, I wasn’t watching you the whole time. I was busy with my own stuff.” 

He points to an open suitcase filled to the brim with ... rocks? As if that’s normal. 

“My meteorite bag’s all packed.”

I nod like that explains something, but it really doesn’t. Meteorites? I thought those were in the sky, not on the ground. And what does that even mean? He just carries around pieces of infinity. For what?

I look at him more closely, studying his face for any sign of disingenuity. For any sign that he’s just having me on. But I find nothing. Nothing … bad, anyway. Just a deep dimple accompanying his crooked smile, and miles of tawny skin, speckled with moles. He exists in shades of orange and gold. He’s the sun. And I can’t look away.

“Stare much?” 

I drop my gaze, embarrassed - Staring down at his scuffed Nikes, as my neck prickles with heat. I don’t talk. What am I even supposed to say to that? Yes? 

“Well ... you’re probably just used to it from staring at that bloke for so long. You know … for your drawing.” I look up - Grey meeting blue. He’s eyeing my pad curiously. “He was naked?” He breathes in as he says it, like the words stole his oxygen. It makes my stomach plummet, but I try to keep my face calm. I think about him watching me, watching the movers. How he watched me, watching the model. He must know. And ... I don’t know how I feel about that, just yet. 

He looks down at my pad again. I don’t understand why. Does he want me to show him the drawings of the model bloke? It seems like he does. And some disturbed part of me wants to. But I doubt it. ‘Hey stranger, wanna’ see how I draw dicks?’ said no sane person ever. My stomach twists tight, and I’m out of control - My brain hazy amongst the moment’s tension.

“Look, man,” he sighs, half-smiling as he scrubs at the back of his neck. “I legit’ have no idea how to get home. I tried, but I just ended up back here. I’ve been waiting for you to lead the way. You don’t mind do you?”

I don’t think I mind. Do I? I don’t know. I shake my head, anyway, and point him in the right direction. 

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

It’s a long way home, and we walk the majority of it in silence (Well, near-silence. The bumping of his suitcase creating a constant accompaniment to our steps). I try and resist the urge to look back at him. The urge to ask him all of my ‘Why?’s - Why did you follow me? Why are you still following me? Why are you collecting meteorites? Why were you looking at the stars in daylight? Why were you looking at me in the daylight? It would only make me more muddled. So, rather than relent, I take out my invisible brushes and start to paint behind my eyes. 

And, after a while, I feel myself settling back into my skin. The dancing trees and setting sun relaxing me, in spite of the moment’s unsteadiness. Or ... maybe it was him. He’s an alarmingly relaxed person (I mean, I don’t know anybody else who would just follow a stranger around, with zero self-consciousness), so it wouldn’t surprise me if he had some sort of ‘Realm of Calm’ thing going on around him. 

When we emerge from the woods, returning to our familiar concrete-laden pavements, he spins around and jumps in front of me. Ecstatic. 

“Holy shit! That is like ... the longest I’ve ever gone without talking in my life! I was holding my breath just trying to keep the words in. How do you even do that? Are you always like this?”

He’s a mile a minute, and I’m lagging behind.

“Like what?”

And then he’s laughing at me. I can tell that he’s a person who laughs a lot, from the way he lets it take him over so easily - His whole being lightening up, as the sides of his eyes crinkle, joyfully. But it’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s not a mean laugh. It just makes me feel a little bit fizzy inside (In a good way. I think). 

“Dude! Are you kidding? You do know those are the first words you’ve said all day, right?”

I didn’t, actually. But I don’t tell him that. He’d probably just think that I’m more strange than he, no doubt, already does. 

He’s properly cracking up now (Although, I don’t know what, exactly, I did that was quite so funny). “And then you’re all just like ‘What?’”. </p>

He makes an absolutely atrocious attempt at imitating my accent (Which leaves him sounding like some kind of drunken Prince Charles impersonator), and before I can stop it, I’m laughing outright, alongside him. Both of us hunched-over cackling, wholeheartedly, probably looking more than a little mad. 

Once we’ve calmed down, he starts staring at my pad again. Jesus Christ. I really wish he wouldn’t. I’m not going to show him my sketches. Not even if he begs. I’d never survive the embarrassment.

“So ... lemme’ guess. You do most of your talking in there?” He points down at my pad, and I feel the tips of my ears flood scarlet. 

“Yeah. Something like that.” My voice comes out mumbled and gruff. I didn’t mean for it to. He probably thinks I did it on purpose, though. 

He’s haloed under the streetlights, and I’m trying not to stare. But, it’s hard. His face is celestial - The sunshine of his soul peeking through his features. I want to say more, just so that he doesn’t leave. Our houses are right there but, I feel so ... multicoloured.

“I paint in my head sometimes,” I blurt. Dumb. So unbelievably dumb. “That’s why I was so quiet, I was painting.”

“Oh that’s cool. Saves paper, I suppose. Better for the trees, and that.” Stalling. He’s stalling. I’ve made it weird. I always make it weird. “So ... were you painting anything specific?”

“You.” Oh, fucking hell! I’ve ruined it - I’ve smeared on that last glob of un-erasable acrylic and ruined the painting. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t even mean to say it, it just ... popped out. And now he’s stood, gawping, eyes wide and face flushed. I’ve embarrassed him. I’ve gone and dumped all my greedy keenness on him, completely uninvited, and now he’s drowning in it.

Everything feels tight. The air, suddenly too humid to swallow. I’m gasping - Waves of breath crashing, loudly, in my ears. Panic. I’m panicking. I need to - I have to go.

So, for the second time today, I run. Spinning on my heels and darting back towards my house, without as much as a ‘Goodbye”. Away from him. Away from humiliation. Back to my room, where I pull the blinds shut and open up my pad - Briskly skipping over today’s work. A blank page. A fresh start. I really am no good at talking the normal way.

#carry on #carry on countdown #coc 2020 #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz #my fic #my writing

[trashystar420]

Babysitter Chapter 6 Maribat

It had been a few days since Marinette discovered the ‘villain’ that is Damien Wayne, or is that ReALLY his name. After all he IS a villain.... according to Trixx, which could be considered a reliable source. Fifty-fifty.

She couldn’t focus at the discovery Trixx found. Aparently he was looking in her history. Not a good thing. Especially if as the current guardian of rather powerful magical jewelry, must remain a secret from anyone and everyone. Especially from supposed supervillains.

“Why me.” The designer moaned to herself. Resting her head on her sketch book. Tikki just gave her holder a pat.

“Tikki what am I going to do? A random person. A villain is now aware of the existence of kwamis and will be looking around for them. And he KNOWS that I know.”

“Don’t worry Marinette, if there is anyone who can figure this out. It’s you! After all you are ladybug.”

“Was Tikki. Was. It’s been years Perhaps I’m losing my touch.” She thought out loud.

“Your not thinking of.”

“You know what Tikki. I think Ladybug needs to come out from the shadows once more.” For the first time in a while. She felt a spark. A feeling. It was like as though she were reborn into a new person. Tikki didn’t say anything.

“Tikki spots on!”

...

...

...

“Alright, Robin Jr., Red Hood. Get in position. Red Robin, on your signal.” BlackBird (aka Damien yes I know I said Robin a few chappies ago but screw that!) ordered. The two younger birds also stayed in position. Red hood’s guns and Robin Jr.’s batons at the ready.

This was it. They finally found Mr. Freeze’s hideout. Red Robin was currently drawing the crazed ice fanatic into a trap. That trap being Dick and Jason. Damien stayed on the sidelines. He wanted his younger brothers to gain some experience on their own, and if something were to happen, he could intervene.

“Alright guys he’s right on my tail, so make this quick before I’m frozen over.” Red Robin warned. Jason cocked his guns at the door. Dick above the door. Ready to jump the villain.

The door burst open. Tim tumbling out there. Mr.Freeze came soon after, and that was when Jason shot with 100% accurate precision. At his freezing tank,resulting in the tank to explode, releasing all the ice.

“Gah!”

“RB Jr. NOW!!!”

And the baby bird managed to land a solid hit on his noggin, rendering him unconscious.

“I-I did it!!!” Dick cheered. Jason swept him off his feet and spun him around, also proud of his baby bro.

“We did it! I’m so proud of you.” Jason told.

Dick shook his head.

“You were the amazing one Red Hood. You managed to shoot at his tanks without breaking a sweat. Your a real marksman!!!”

“Dawwww ya really think so lil D- AHEAM!” Damien interrupted. Jason reluctantly put down little Dick.

“What’s it to you?” Red hood spat out. Robin Jr hid behind Hood.

“Don’t yell your real names out loud, you never know who or what can hear.” The experienced vigilante breathed out. Much like his father, was also pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh sorry BlackBird.” Dick apologized. Red hood still gave him a look, well sort of. His mask basically hides his face, but Blackbird could bet all his money that Jason was giving him a withering glare.

“Alright now lets give the ice freak over to the police and get our butts home huh? I want to get in a nice warm bath.” Tim than pushes both his younger brothers out, letting BlackBird handle the cleanup.

“Why is it always me.” The oldest bird asked to himself. He dials for the police not long after.

...

...

...

Ladybug jumped building to building with the same amount of grace she had back when Hawkmoth and Hawkmoth 2.0 reined their terror down on Paris. With a practiced swing, she threw her yo-yo on a protruded ledge, and utilizing the momentum from the yo-yo swung herself up and far. She kept repeating the process for a few more times. The all too familiar cool breeze. The adrenaline. Marinette felt like the wind.

When Marinette transformed, she was surprised to find her hair much shorter, which wasn’t a bad thing. Long hair could get in the way during a fight and she DID not like ponytails. Perhaps a bun, but it just wouldn’t look good with the costume, or that is was the Bluenette thought.

She landed on top of an apartment, and sat on the ledge, her feet dangling off the building, without a care in the world. The heroine let the breeze hit her face again as her big blue eyes stare into the Milky Way. She just simply let herself get lost in the feeling of tranquility. Breathe in breathe out. Repeated breathing techniques taught to her by the previous guardian, Master Fu. Now deceased due to natural causes.

Her bittersweet memories interrupted by the blaring sounds of a robbery.

“Who robs a bank in the middle of night?” She bitterly spoke to no one in particular. Without a second thought, she jumped to the crime scene to find two burly men in typical black ski masks and all black clothing. Too occupied in carrying the heavy-looking sac of money and precious gold, Ladybug coughed to alert the two theives.

“Ah shit here another one of them!!! This time a spotted freak!!!” Theif one bemoaned.

“Shit Carlie should we just the goods and scram?” Thief two asked. Thief one warily gazed at the mysterious heroine, before reluctantly tossing the bag to her.

“Keep it, we want no trouble.” He gave in, thief two did the same. Mari gave a look.

“I don’t want stolen goods, I came here to stop you two!” Ladybug clarifies. Thief two made an ‘oh’ sound, while thief one nodded.

“You two gentlemen are smart, so why go through with this?” She asked. The two were taken aback by the question, but before thief one answered, thief two spoke up.

“We are desperate ma’am. Our mama is terribly sick and we got no bills to pay for her medicine. The doc said if she don’t get it she gonna...” and then proceeded to bawl. Thief one patted his brother and also began to shed some tears.

“Dammit Dyl, I told you not to cry- hic- your -hic- gonna make me cry....” and now Ladybug is comforting two burly men crying their sorrows out. The spotted heroine asked how much the treatment costed.

“Over $100,000.” He answered. Ladybug winced. Remembering that she earned over $100,000 over the last two weeks due to online commissions and her babysitting gig.

“How about you two show me to your mama first, after we put all the money back.” The two nodded and did just that.

...

...

...

“Dylan!!! Charles!!! Why are you two dressed like that?!?” Mrs. Bension asked.

“We’re sorry mama. We needed the money to heal ya.” Charles answered. That earned the two a hard slap.

And a hug. More tears ensued. Ladybug awkwardly stayed on the sidelines at the display. And then Mama Bension looked at Ladybug.

“You’re not gonna report them to the police are ya?” She asked with baited breathe. Ladybug looked. And really looked at the family before her. They looked so close together, and so happy. It’s not like they wanted to rob a bank to get rich, all they wanted was enough to save their dying mother.

Taking an exasperated breathe, she looks over to mama Bension.

“No ma’am. This secret stays with the four of us. I understand that they were in a terrible position that would’ve made anyone desperate. Now tell me, what is it that you have?”

She had breast cancer.

Ladybug pulled out a roll of money. Around $200,000. It will be over $100,000. That much Marinette knew.

“This should cover the bill. And if you need more or anything else”, she proceeds to take out a little bug, like communicator. It was smaller than her nail.

“Press this small button here” and the bug thing released its wings, displaying a monitor.

“It will alert me. Now I must go. Take care and good luck. And please. Don’t resort to thievery again.” And she took off into the night. The Benisons looked at the amount of money she handed to them. The brothers cheered with tears of joy, while the mom looked over the strange device she left.

“What a strange woman. Kind, but strange.”

...

...

...

“Well today’s the day.” Marinette spoke, while looking at the calender. The day being her scheduled babysitting day. She informed Bruce ahead of time if she could take the two boys out with her, and he agreed a bit too eagerly.

“Alright we are first going to the Gotham museum first, and then we will take a nice walk in the dog park. And finally, the amusement park. Hey guys did I miss anything?”

“Picnic basket check.” Tikki informed.

“First aid kit check.” Longg answered.

“Phone at 100%.” Pollen shouted over the counter.

“Are you ready Marinette?” Kalkki asked playfully. She just rolled her eyes at the sassy kwami.

“Alright let’s go you guys.” And off the five went.

Done! That was chapter 6 ya’ll enjoy!!!!

#damien x marinette #marinette dupen chang #maribat #damienette #batfam #batman #bruce x selina #bruce wayne #older tim drake #younger dick grayson #younger jason todd #older damian wayne #miraculous ladybug #fanfic

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 4 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

4. Paper Trails

Is it possible to truly call the mess someone creates in a desperate search for an object a natural disaster? If so, his study had come as close to the definition as humanly possible; books had been torn off their shelves, drawers had been removed and dumped on the floor, decorative items had been thrown haphazardly around the room and he was seriously debating on whether or not he should attempt to lift the furniture. He had, after all, already knocked over one of the end tables.

He just didn't understand it. The one time he needed that letter, it was absolutely nowhere to be found! But, that was what made it so strange… Unless he needed it, he kept it within a metal box that sat in the bottom drawer of his desk, right now, even the box was missing! How was he going to prove he had a valid claim to the issue at hand without it?

A noise took his thoughts away from his search. He glanced up to see Danny standing in the doorway, giving him a worried glance. "Uh… Winston, are you alright?" he asked cautiously as he carefully came in the room a few steps. "And you say my room's a mess…"

A sheepish grin crossed his face as he picked up his chair. "I'm fine… I'm just trying to find a paper I need for a meeting later tonight."

"Do… you need any help?"

"No, not really… I should be fine on my own." He then glanced at his young charge, who seemed to relax at the statement. He was confused for a moment until he realized the boy kept glancing at the clock that somehow still managed to be in its place on the wall. "That's right; you're going out today…"

Danny nodded as a relieved expression appeared on his face. "Yeah, I'm supposed to meet Sam and Tucker soon."

"Be careful, alright?"

"I know, I know…"

He sighed as he carefully stepped over his mess so he could put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I can't help that I'm worried, especially after what happened on Sunday…"

At that statement, the boy violently knocked away his guardian's hand. "Nothing happened!" he nearly shouted. "How many times do I have to say that to you?"

Danny glared at him as he tried to figure out how to defuse the situation. Even though Danny denied anything happened, the actual problem was obviously something had. Winston knew Danny had experienced real fear on Sunday and whatever it was, it had to have been traumatic, or else his constant denials wouldn't make much sense. It worried him. What could possibly have scared the boy so much in his own home?

Something else bothering him was the fact Danny had gotten violently ill shortly after dinner that night. Although, it could have just been a delayed response (to the fear but), it really had seemed… well, almost random. The boy was shaking severely once he had gotten control of his stomach, and he seemed unusually cold to the touch. Now that he actually thought about it more, the shaking might have been actual shivers from being cold. That definitely wasn't normal, and if it wasn't for the fact that he had felt better the next morning, Winston would have taken him to the doctor's, which was something he tried to avoid.

"Danny…" he said slowly. Within how tense the boy was, he knew he had to be careful with his words. It would not help either of them if he unintentionally pushed him away. "All I'm asking is that you take it easy today. You might be fine, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm worried about you."

"Whatever," he huffed as he turned back towards the door. Although it wasn't the best response, it told him that, thankfully, there was no added stress to the shaky situation. "I have to get going."

Winston smiled as he turned back to the warzone that was formally his desk. "One thing before you go," he added as an afterthought. "I might not be home when you come back tonight. If you're not feeling well, don't hesitate to come back here. And, as long as you leave this room alone, you can bring your friends in if you like."

That caught the boy's attention. "Really?"

"Really. Have fun. I have to get back to this… uh, search…" A frown crossed his features as he glanced down at the mess. Again, how could a heavy metal box go missing?

He barely heard Danny's reply as he tried to figure out where he should search next. Time was running out, and there was still no sign of it. But, trying to search on sheer panic without a plan was not doing him any good. Although he did not want to, he decided to give himself a few moments to reorganize his thoughts.

The obvious place to restart was the desk, where it should have been in the first place. There had to be some sort of clue to what happened to it in there. Yet, as he looked, he happened to notice a folded piece of paper around the same area where the box had been. It was odd because he rarely, if ever, folded any of his paperwork, especially anything placed in that desk. What was even stranger was the fact it had his name written on it, almost like it was a letter. Curious, he opened it.

….

Time just seemed to stand still as he just stared at the letter. It… it had to be some type of sick joke! There was no way that that thing could possibly be in town, let alone have found a way into the house. He had kept track of reports from their previous hometown, and no one had seen it for years! There weren't even any reports from neighboring locations. It just disappeared after it had destroyed everything.

But, if it was in town, why was it here? Why was it targeting him? Wait… When it had first attacked all those years ago, it seemed to have a specific target… But, weren't they dead? Could it now be after…? "Oh, no…!" he whispered as he got up and sprinted towards the front door. "Danny!" he shouted as he tried to find some sort of evidence he was still in the house, but there wasn't any.

A glance at the clock told him that it had been some time since he had last spoken to the boy. How did he loose that much time? Even though Danny was probably nowhere nearby, he threw open the front door and tried calling for the boy again anyways. There was no answer, but that did not mean much. Danny was probably fine, but oblivious to the danger that had reemerged. It wasn't his fault either, Winston hadn't wanted to say anything about it until his upcoming birthday, but he was seriously regretting that decision now. That thing… that monster could be stalking its prey at the moment.

Without a second though, he grabbed his keys and hurried to his car. Sure, there was that meeting he needed to attend, but that was going to have to be rescheduled. Danny's safety was far more important to him than trying to prove to a bunch of busybodies he had a right to take care of the boy.

And in truth, he wasn't too sure what he was going to when he finally managed to find Danny. Was he going to tell the boy what was wrong? Or, was, again, going to leave crucial information out? He would decide that later. Right now, his major concern was to just to make sure he was still okay.

xxxxxxx

"Uh… Dude, are you sure you're okay?" Tucker asked as he watched him finish his second pop in less than five minutes.

He gave his friend a sheepish grin as he debated on whether or not he was going to need another refill. "Yeah… as soon… as I can completely… catch my breath." Although he knew it was probably among the stupidest things he could have done, he ran all the way from his home to the Nasty Burger, which Tucker had promised tasted a lot better than it sounded. His little chat with Winston had taken surprisingly longer than he thought it would, which didn't help the fact he was already running late.

A chuckle from Sam caught his attention. "This wouldn't happen if you were in better shape…" Even if she was poking fun at him in a friendly way, the comment still got under his nerves a little. Sure, he wasn't the most muscular of people, but he certainly wasn't fat. So, instead of trying to say anything back to her, he decided to take the moment to get another refill.

"So, ignoring my problems," Danny told them a few minutes later as he sat back down. "Did you guys actually find out anything?"

"Surprisingly, I did… and I'm not too sure that it's a good thing. Here, take a look."

Ignoring the fact it seemed that Tucker's pockets held their own separate dimension since there was no way they were big enough to completely hold his PDA and his other gadgets, he glanced at the article currently on the machine's screen. Though it wasn't a very large article, the content seemed to be rather troubling. "Wh-what is this?" His voice was quiet as he looked at both of his friends for some sort of answer.

"Right now, I'm not too sure," Tucker replied as he took back his PDA. "There's really not much information on it, but from what I can tell, that picture is very similar to a series of sketches drawn a few hundred years ago. But the thing is, they were all drawn for (or by) this cult that seemed to worship demons."

He could feel his eyes widen in disbelief. "You… You're not serious, are you?"

"Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it," Sam continued as Tucker nodded solemnly. "It's a little obscure, but apparently that group was trying to create a specific demon-the one depicted on the drawing we found. There were really no details on how they planned on doing that, thank goodness, but there was some reference that it deals with some sort of curse…."

Now, that made him laugh, which caused his friends to stare at him. "A curse?" he asked as he calmed down a bit. "Don't you think that's a little much? You actually had me going for a bit."

"Danny, this isn't a laughing matter!" Sam nearly yelled as Tucker tried to keep her from standing up. "Whether or not this story is true is not the actual problem. The problem is we found something tied to a potentially dangerous occult belief right after you were chased by… whatever that thing was! Don't you see some sort of connection here?"

He snorted. "Sam, do you really think that whoever that guy was belongs to this cult and wanted to sacrifice me or something? Hasn't that sort of thing been proven to be nothing but an urban legend? Besides, finding that paper was probably nothing but a coincidence."

"Actually, I'm not too sure it is." Tucker's voice brought both he and Sam away from the staring match that had begun after he had finished speaking. "I mean, the information on that picture was hard to find, so I don't really think too many people would know about it."

"But, couldn't someone have just drawn that picture without really knowing about that story? Plenty of people are interested in the occult and other spooky stuff, so there's no telling what one of them might have come up with."

"I'd actually side with you, if it wasn't for the type of paper that it's on."

"What do you mean?"

Sam sighed rather impatiently. "Don't you remember what I said when we found it? Like it felt more like canvas? Well, I actually took it down to one of the art supply stores I occasionally go to hoping that they might have some idea what it was, but they didn't know! They told me that it didn't look like anything they had seen before… well, until the one said that it somewhat reminded him of animal leather, which really freaked me out. How could someone do that to an animal?"

From there, she quickly began to rant about animal cruelty until Tucker interrupted her by calling her name. After a moment, she realized what she was doing and adopted a sheepish expression. "Anyway," she continued, "the point here is that it's highly unlikely many people would be able to get their hands on that type of material, and since it did seem really old, maybe we do have something here."

Danny crossed his arms as he considered her words. "So, if there is a connection here, what do you suppose we do?" It wasn't really like he was completely convinced about this whole 'occult' story, but he was certain that there was some sort of deranged freak stalking his favorite haunt. That by itself was a cause for alarm.

"We could go to the police…"

"Please, Sam, If we go up to an officer and say 'Hey, when we were in the cemetery at night, we were chased by this creepy thing that we think belongs to a demon-worshiping cult', he'll probably either laugh at us or check us for drug possession."

"It was just a suggestion, and I don't see you coming up with anything better!"

"Calm down! Do you want to draw attention to us?" Tucker warned them as he carefully glanced around the building. That act caused him to look around too, and indeed, there were a few people that had decided to look their way.

It really was the first time he had paid attention to the other people in the restaurant. Surprisingly, there were a lot of other teenagers there, and he guessed that the majority of them went to the same school as Sam and Tucker. For a moment, he felt a bit of jealousy towards them. For practically his entire life, he had been kept away from the world, and now that he could finally touch its fringes, he felt himself wanting more of it. In truth, he just didn't understand why his friends talked so badly about it.

Though he could probably ponder about it more, he pulled himself back into the argument that had now started between Sam and Tucker that did not seem to do anything with the unknown madman who was starting to make president in their lives.

xxxxxxxx

It was starting to grow dark, and Winston still had absolutely no idea where Danny could be. It was probably his fault, since until this particular moment; he hadn't seen the point of giving the boy anything like a cell phone. And, it didn't really help that part of his attention was drawn away by a rather annoying social worker that could not seem to understand he was trying to reschedule his appointment.

"For the last time, I will gladly reschedule for next week," he told the woman as civilly as he could. He knew that driving while speaking on his cell was not a smart move on his part, but he could honestly care less. Trying to find Danny was way more important than obeying any laws. "But, Ma'am, I was just alerted to a family emergency. Right now, that is more important to me than this meeting. Tomorrow, or even later tonight, if you want, I'll call you to fill you in on the situation, but right now, I need to go. Have a good night."

The tone in his voice seemed to finally get through to the woman, and she did agree that he could call later. Happy to finally be off the phone with her, he glanced down for a moment to slide his phone into a cup holder so that he could easily grab it later. When he looked back up, he immediately slammed on his breaks and turned the wheel.

His breathing was heavy as his car came to a stop. Thankful that there were no other vehicles on the street, he glanced over to see what the damage might be. Yet… there was nothing there! Confused, he got out of his car so that he could better survey the location.

It was so strange. He could have sworn that he had seen some sort of figure standing out in the road, but as he looked, there was absolutely no sign of any living thing. Even the buildings that were around him were broken down and empty. Now that he thought about it, how did he even get into this part of town? He didn't remember coming here… and it was unlikely that Danny would be in the area, especially if he was with friends…

A chill suddenly ran down his back, and he knew he was being watched. Now aware he was in an incredibly open position, he moved closer to his car. The most logical thing to do would be to get back into his car, quickly leave the area, and go back to his search, but something told him that whatever was watching him would not let him escape so easily.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" a civilized voice asked in a way that made his blood run cold. He knew that voice; there was no way that he would ever have been able to forget it. Even though he didn't have to look to know it was there, but he did anyway. It would have made him face it eventually, so there was no use in trying to avoid it.

On a first glance, the average person would probably describe the figure floating above him as a vampire, and although there was a similarity, it was a wrong assumption. In fact, the creature was something anyone would never expect to be solid, appear in the daylight (even if it was fading), or even have the ability to hurt someone. It was a ghost.

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

Notes: 1) Pop = soda. Grew up in southwestern PA, and we tend to say 'pop'. This might come up again, so I just wanted to put that translation out there.

2) When Danny says that sacrificial cults are an urban legend, that's supposedly true. According to US criminal history, while there have been murderous cults, there is no evidence of any sacrificial murders related to cults. Whether that's true or not, is up to debate, but that's the official standpoint in the US. Although, you can argue the “Order of the Solar Temple” did this, but that was in Canada. 

#Eidolon #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp #dp au #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #supernatural

[halfbloodglader]

A Heavy Burden - Gally

Gally x reader - 2,708 words

Request; hey! can u write a gally fic where he likes the reader but is too shy to tell her...some of the other gladers find out and in order to stop them from saying anything gally makes a deal of some sort where he gets beat up every night? It goes on a while but the reader finds him?

lol this one is kinda long. Poor Gally awh man. Just tryna be happy and protect other people

Nothing made sense to him—why he was so angry all the time, irritated by the most minuscule of things and thrown emotionally overboard every time he tried to sleep. Gally wondered if he'd ever feel normal. Though, he also questioned if normal was a thing a person could feel because ever since showing up here three years ago, it certainly wasn't something he'd ever experienced.

Gally walked in the shadow of his peers. He followed in their footsteps, seemingly a mile behind, always calling out to them but nobody ever heard him.

Walking in that empty space between the other Gladers and himself was Y/N. The one person here Gally had fallen in love with at a distance without saying anything. In complete silence, he'd fallen for the kind, selfless and mischievous glader. She herself had reached out and said more hellos to Gally than he'd been brave enough to wave across the Glade back at her. The few conversations they exchanged were short, awkward and blunt. That didn't stop her from always being caring toward him, though. Somedays, she'd bring him water. Others, she'd spend her evening staining the wood he never finished during the day.

Sure, she did these sorts of things for lots of other people. But she was the only one who did those sorts of things for him. The only one here who treated him like he was human.

Maybe, he was completely swept off in his own imagination. He had hopes and dreams that were more than likely beyond unrealistic. What else though, was he supposed to do with these feelings? He was trapped in a stone box with no memory of his former life or hope for a future. Escaping into his imagination and having one single positive part of his day, or person, to think of made life bearable.

Said life though, had gotten a lot worse the past few weeks.

Gally's biggest current regret was not having gone to find Y/N that day she had called out for him. He'd been a coward and hid in the deadheads from her instead of going to find out what it was she wanted him for. Staying in those woods landed him in a far worse situation than he could have ever imagined.

That day, instead of going after Y/N, he hid in the woods with some paper and a pencil. He hid amongst the trees and found his peace in the silence and cold from the fading sun. Of all things to keep his mind off of its own ongoing war, he drew Y/N. Simple drawings, pictures such as the girl with a soft smile crossing her features. Or, her helping Newt in the gardens.

Harmless sketches of this girl who he hardly spoke to on the daily but the thought of her held off that heaviness on his heart. Everyday, the impossibly strong grasp someone or something had on his heart which tried to bend him over forward into to the dirt got stronger. But the few hours of peace he'd spend alone drawing were the moments he felt as if that force dragging him down took a slight break.

That night, Gally was shaken to reality by the sound of boys whispering and trampling over leaves and twigs. They were close. Too close. In a panic, Gally tossed the papers on the ground and kicked as much dirt and debris over them as he could. His efforts probably weren't enough and he knew it.

"Gally!" One of the guys gibed. "We were wondering why you weren't a dinner!"

The builder raised his brows and took a breath. "Don't kid yourselves, you didn't even notice I was gone."

The boy and his fellow slicers snickered.

"Well, he's not wrong." Another added.

Gally rolled his eyes and went to walk away. These slicers had always been out to cause trouble and they weren't worth his time. He wanted out before something boiled up.

"Woah man," The loudest, most aggravating of the boys called out to Gally. "What's this?"

He plucked the papers out of the dirt with stringy fingers and held them up in the dim light. A disturbing smile smeared the moment he recognized the face on the paper. Then, he looked up to Gally and the builder knew he was done for. That heavy weight in his chest completely went away and was replaced by a sickness in his stomach.

Sauntering toward him, Gally felt like he stood in place for hours. His heart was trying to escape.

"Now Gally, I want you to be honest." The boy smirked and flipped the paper around so Gally could see. "Are you an artist and none of us knew? Or is this something you stole from someone else because, y'know, you needed it for something?"

His friends laughed. "Or, maybe both?" He eyed Gally up and down.

The gaze burned at his skin. It was painful. His lungs were creaming and heart was sobbing.

"Fine, I draw. That's it." Gally snapped, his voice breaking. "Now forget about it."

"Oh!" The slicer howled. "You think we're just gonna let you off? What do you think, should we tell her? Show everyone your little secret? How do you think Alby will feel?"

"I don't—"

Stepping closer, the slicer held up the paper right to Gally's face and pointed to Y/N. "I bet she'll be scared as hell of you now."

Gally closed his eyes. He never wanted this to happen. All he wanted was a break for his soul. And sure, drawing someone without their permission wasn't the best way to go about dealing with his problems, but it was all he knew.

"Don't tell anyone." Gally pleaded. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" The guy questioned, surprised. That was a bold move, even coming from Gally. "There's a lot I would ask, but I don't want trouble with Alby..."

He thought for a while. He conversed with his friends. Ultimately, he decided.

"Alright," He shoved the paper against Gally's chest. Immediately, he put it in his pocket. "I want to see how long it takes to break the toughest looking guy here. Every night, you're going to meet us here. We're going to beat you to the ground."

Gally took what he was saying as fact. As part of his life now. It was his only way out.

Stepping closer, the slicer picked up a large stick and swung it back and forth. "Don't worry, we won't leave bruises on your face. Only where they can't see."

"...Don't say anything, and we won't say anything either." He looked to Gally questioningly.

"Deal." He quavered.

Gally braced himself for the first hit.

That began three weeks ago.

He thought about what had happened that night as he lay on the burning cold ground. It burned because his skin felt like it was on fire from all of the hits it had taken. It felt cold because the ground quite literally was cold, seeing as he'd been here all night and dawn had just broken.

His body couldn't be brought to its feet this morning. He'd been getting beaten up for three weeks straight. But, he had to keep to his word and not let anyone know. They couldn't know. It would destroy how everyone here perceived him and his reputation. The reputation that made everyone else keep their distance was something he wanted to keep.

"Oh shit!" A quiet voice snapped as the faint footsteps Gally was hearing came to an immediate halt.

The fear of a body laying unmoving the woods at dawn apparently wasn't enough to stop this person though, because they came rushing to his side. He knew who it was the moment they crashed to their knees right in front of his eyes and put their hands on his face.

"Gally! Are you okay? What's going on?" She shuddered as she felt his forehead for signs of illness.

Unable to speak or move, Gally was just able to lift his arm enough to gently point to his side. His eyes were glued shut from the agony of moving his arm and all he hoped was that she caught on. If anyone were to find him like this, he wasn't exactly enthused it was Y/N, but he needed help and he knew it.

Carefully, the girl lifted his shirt to find a black and blue bruised body. There were wounds new and old still seeping blood. His breaths were shallow, so it was evident he had broken ribs.

"Oh shuck. Don't move. I'll be right back." She sprinted off fasted then he'd ever seen her run. That said a lot because she was fast.

Between the time she'd run off and now, Gally had passed out, probably for the better, and been moved to the medjacks. He'd just woken, but chose to keep his eyes closed for a while longer. He wasn't yet ready to face the world again.

"This doesn't look like it happened just last night. These wounds are layered, some of them a couple weeks old at least." Jeff muttered to Alby.

Alby ran a hand over his head. "Could he have been hurting himself?"

"No," Jeff shook his head. "These couldn't be self inflicted. Someone did it. Someone has been hurting him for a long time."

"Let me know when he wakes up." Alby demanded. "I'm going to find Newt."

Knowing he'd left, Gally slowly opened his eyes. The sun was evidently now fully risen as the medjack hut was well lit and warm. He blinked a few times and the headache crushing his skull was so overbearing he could hear himself blink.

When he turned his head to the side slightly, he was met with a wide-eyed, speechless Y/N. "You're o—"

Y/N's face suddenly fell. "Who did this?"

Her expression changed extremely quick. It went from relief to vexation in a split second.

Gally didn't want to answer that to her. What he could do though, was reach down for that crumpled paper he'd kept with him since the first night. He agonizingly grabbed it and held it up for the girl to take. That one single move required all of the energy he had inside of himself and was more painful than he'd hoped.

At this point, he didn't care anymore. He'd been trying to keep it a secret and was afraid that if Y/N found out how he spent his free time, she'd be disgusted and afraid of him. Besides, he tried to tell himself, that if he really knew the real Y/N, there was no way she'd judge him for this. Y/N wasn't that kind of person.

The girl took it gingerly and unravelled it. A small smile, one Gally knew all too well, lightened her features as she scanned over the paper. "Gally, you're amazing."

The next she looked up, Gally's eyes were already shut and his breathing had steadied. He'd fallen back asleep. For now, she had to let him rest. When he woke though, Y/N was going to be a part of finding out who had done this to him.

Alby and Newt fell into the medjack hut just a little too late. Newt sighed in agony when he saw his friend.

"Did he tell you anything?" Alby asked, putting a hand on Gally's bed.

"No," Y/N shook her head. "He gave me this though. It might have something to do with it."

Newt took the paper and smiled. "Who would've guessed he was such a good drawer." He then passed it off to Alby.

"I think I know who did it." Alby grimaced at the paper. "A few weeks ago, I heard some of the slicers talking about some 'stupid drawings' and then they mentioned Gally over dinner."

Vexed, Alby gave Newt back the paper and turned on his heel as fast as he could.

"Woah!" Newt called out. "You're not going to accuse some boys of a bloody mess like this before we hear it from Gally first. We wait here until he wakes up."

With a deep breath, Newt continued. "He's safe here until then."  

Hours had passed before Gally found himself waking again. The medjack hut had begun to cool off and Gally felt the hair on his arms raise from the chill running down his spine. He wanted to get up, move and finally get some food. No injury or illness in the world could stave off Gally's hollow leg.

Slowly, the boy raised himself to a sitting position. He felt lighter despite the fact his body was close to disintegrating. Curious, he lifted his shirt to see the massacre that had been committed on his body.  It was just as bad as he'd guessed. The past few weeks, he'd refused to look at it but now was the time. The sight made him sick but the moment he let his shirt down, he forgot about it.

Taking a few deep breaths, Gally prepped himself to stand. He was going to get up and out of this cramped room and face whatever it was outside of that door. Luckily for him, he wouldn't have to do it alone.

Just as he swept his legs over the edge of the bed, a pair of soft eyes peered around the corner into the room Gally was in.

"Hi." She whispered.

Gally smiled sadly. "Hi, Y/N."

"I thought you might be getting cold," She said as she stepped into the room with one of Gally's hoodies. "And thought you might be starving, so I came to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me?"

She paused. "I mean, come get dinner. With all of us. The normal. I don't know what I'm saying."

"That sounds good to me," He tried to laugh but stopped himself from the ache in his ribs. "I'd like to have dinner with you for once."

Y/N smiled awkwardly and handed Gally his hoodie. And though he tried, there was no way Gally was getting it onto his body. In sympathy, Y/N finally reached out and took the pile of fabric back. She reoriented it and then put it over his head and guiding it over his shoulders. By that point, he was able to get his arms in the sleeves and stand himself up.

Slowly, Y/N helped him out of the medjack hut. The air hit him in the face with a startling force. This was the time of day he'd normally head off to the deadheads to meet his nightmare. Y/N noticed him tense.

"You okay?" She asked.

Gally looked down to the girl and blinked a few times. "Yeah."

Y/N locked her arm with his to help hold his balance. "You don't have to worry, alright? There's a bunch of people looking out for you right now."

Gally walked alongside Y/N at a deathly slow pace. Partly because it really did hurt that much to walk and because he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. "What did Alby do? How much does everyone know?"

"He hasn't done anything yet, me and Newt made sure of that." Y/N explained to dampen his worries. "No one else knows. Alby told them all you came down with a nasty bug. We're going to make sure this stays between the few of us and that's it."

"Thank you, really." Gally said. "It almost feels like you guys know me. Know I wouldn't want the others to find out."

Y/N stopped walking for a moment and made Gally look at her. "It's because we do know you. You're our friend, Gally. And we respect how you feel."

"You think I'm your friend?" He questioned self-consciously.

"Are you crazy?" Y/N scoffed. "Of course. It sucks we don't spend more time together."

"Well, I had a reason for the past few weeks." He admitted. Y/N nodded in agreement with that. "But maybe we can change that now? Once all of this blows over."

Y/N smiled lightly and Gally took that as a yes. He still had a lot to worry about as this whole situation got sorted out. Now though, he realized that he did have people on his side. People he could trust.

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #gally tmr #the maze runner gally #gally imagine

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 3

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

After he left Astrid on the porch, Hiccup avoided her all night. Every time he spotted her face in the crowd, her golden hair, her blue eyes looking around as if in search, he turned around and left the room. He was still a bit shaken, his heart drumming against his ribcage. He wanted to forget those strange little moments that had occurred between him and her, wanted to wash away the guilt fermenting inside him. But as he later realized, ignoring her and spending the rest of the night with Heather had been a futile attempt at doing that. Lightning had struck him, so hard that blue and white sparks were still flickering all over his body when he woke up the next morning, disoriented and confused, not just from the alcohol.

And no matter what he did, he just couldn’t forget her.

At first, he decided to leave this night behind. Block out each memory of thunder and light, of sparks, both pleasant and unpleasant. Pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Because it hadn’t. He’d gone to a party; he’d met a group of people. One of them was a girl with breathtaking beauty and a soul pulling at his heart strings. People like her existed, people with a natural spell about them. He shouldn’t worry about it too much, shouldn’t let his mind spiral further.

Because that’s what he was doing; he was spiraling into it. It had been a weird night and Astrid had momentarily confused him. His mind had jumped to conclusions too fast, his brain sending out the wrong messengers and producing feelings of guilt where there should be none. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hadn’t cheated on Heather, hadn’t even considered considering it. He’d been drunk. Comfortable with a person he’d easily connected with. But his mind had latched onto it and was now tormenting him, because everything it told him he’d done, he’d always been afraid of doing. He never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to be the jerk.

He reminded himself that overthinking was one of his talents. And that, if he allowed himself to go down that road again, he’d end up falling into his own hole once more, and soon enough he’d have to make a new appointment with Dr. Mala. So he told his brain to shut up and forget that anything ever happened.

He lasted for about three weeks.

It happened while he was watching a movie with Heather. It was a lighthearted film, the protagonists clearly in love and fighting all odds to be together. After a long day at work, the movie was a welcome opportunity to unwind, so Hiccup used his girlfriend’s shoulder as a pillow and gradually drifted off towards the end of the movie. One of the protagonists had just held a speech about true love, the words sinking into Hiccup’s brain and getting lost in the haze of slumber.

Suddenly, Heather moved, the motion of her shoulder waking him. As he rubbed his eyes and slowly came back to the here and now, he had to blink a few times when he expected Heather’s hair to be silken and blonde, her eyes to be sparkling blue. For the fraction of a second, upon realizing he was looking at black and green, he felt something akin to disappointment, and that was all he needed to fully come to again.

“I’m going to bed,” he exclaimed, absentmindedly wishing Heather a good night and almost missing her response.

“Want me to come too, or can I watch this first?”

Hiccup shrugged and yawned. “One of us has to know how it ends, right?” The movie was almost over, anyway. And then she could come to bed, snuggle up to him and remind him that his tired mind was simply messing with him again.

But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was gone, dreaming of dragons with snake eyes that wanted him to touch the treasure, eyes gleaming in anticipation of what was going to happen if he did.

_______________

It had been five weeks and four days that he’d met Astrid when he saw her again.

The day started like every of the last 39 days. When Hiccup got out of bed, Heather was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee into his mug as soon as he came from the bathroom. She was already dressed, grabbing her jacket from where it was hanging over a chair at the kitchen table.

“Morning,” she greeted him in a hurry, planted a kiss on his cheek that made his stomach churn with guilt, and flung her purse over her shoulder.

“Morning,” Hiccup yawned, running a still sleepy hand through his bed hair and letting himself fall onto his usual chair.

“Milk is almost empty,” Heather said as she put on her shoes, not waiting for a reply before she opened the door. “See you tonight. Love you!”

She was gone before Hiccup could answer, the sound of her heels disappearing down the hallway until he faintly heard the door to the stairway fall closed.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, slowly spinning the mug on the tabletop. It was a Star Wars-themed mug with the inscription Come to the dark side. We have coffee! that Heather had given him last Christmas. He stared at it with bleary eyes, still trying to escape the nightmare that had gripped him in his sleep with cold hands, after he had finally managed to fall asleep. Once again, he’d been lying wide awake late into the night, tossing and turning, Heather’s even breaths right next to him deafening to his ears.

He sipped at his coffee, the still hot liquid burning the tip of his tongue, like it so often did. This time, Hiccup didn’t even flinch. He deserved this.

Not exactly hungry, he used up the rest of the milk for his cereal and half-heartedly ate a few spoons full. He put the empty mug and almost full bowl in the sink, not bothering to clean anything. He didn’t have the energy; he’d lost it all to the nightmares.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” he mumbled to himself as he headed to work. He continued to chant his mantra under his breath the entire morning, it’s just a phase, it’s just a phase, just a phase, ignoring the concerned glances from his co-worker. Fishlegs was his friend. He could see that something was bothering Hiccup. It was only a matter of time until he would finally confront him about it.

Fishlegs’ eyes were boring into the side of his skull. They burned through his skin, crossed the blood underneath, knocked on the thick bone that was his head. Just a phase didn’t open. Hiccup almost laughed as his mind put pictures to his thoughts. Fishlegs’ eyes were wearing khaki pants. Maybe Astrid would find it funny.

Hiccup groaned and let his head fall onto his desk with a painful thump, his forehead landing directly on his pencil. “Ow,” he made.

“Hiccup, are…” Fishlegs appeared in his peripheral vision, rolling closer on his chair. “Are you alright?”

Still with his face planted on his sketches, Hiccup sighed. “I’m in deep shit.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” his friend asked tentatively. Hiccup didn’t answer for a minute. He closed his eyes. His nose was uncomfortable on the hard surface. The pencil would surely leave a mark on his forehead.

“You know how I was at Heather’s brother’s birthday party a few weeks ago?” he asked, finally sitting up and facing the other man. He saw his eyes flick to his forehead for a split second.

“Yes, you told me about that. Or rather, you complained about the guy.”

“Well, I…” he hesitated, eyeing Fishlegs warily. How would he react? Would he judge him? Hiccup contemplated to simply wave it off, blaming his mood on something else, but when he tried to think of anything, his mind blanked, apart from the one image that has constantly been there for weeks. Blue eyes, like the sky, deep as an ocean. “I met someone.”

“What do you mean, you met someone?”

“I met a… a girl.”

Fishlegs’ face fell. “Ooh, I don’t like where this is going.”

“No, no!” Hiccup quickly put his hands up in a reassuring manner. “I didn’t cheat on Heather; I would never do that!”

Fishlegs still didn’t look happy, raising a brow and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“The judgmental energy isn’t helping me, Fish,” Hiccup said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m not judging. I want to help you, so tell me what happened.” He still didn’t look convinced. Hiccup chose to concentrate on his pencil instead, rolling it between his fingers as he talked.

“Her name is Astrid. She’s the fiancée of one of Dagur’s best friends. Heather’s annoying brother,” he added at Fishlegs’ questioning look. “We had fun, drinking and playing stupid games.”

“And nothing happened?” When Hiccup didn’t answer, he made that concerned face again, voice rising a few levels. “You just said that nothing happened between you!”

“And nothing did! It’s just…” He sighed and tossed the pencil back on his desk. It rolled over the scattered sketches and was stopped in its path by his empty coffee mug with a short echoing clink. Occasional drops of rain that became more frequent by the minute were drumming against the window, for a while the only sound in the room. When Hiccup spoke again, his voice was quiet, the guilt seeping through, rasping at the edges. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know why; I only spent a couple hours with her. It’s unlike anything I ever felt for anyone, including Heather – and it’s terrifying me.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to think about other women at all when you’re in a relationship,” Fishlegs stated, and another sharp pang of guilt shot through Hiccup’s chest.

“I know, I know. Maybe I’m just obsessing over it too much. But…” His voice became even quieter and Fishlegs had to concentrate on hearing what he said. “When I look at Heather, there’s… nothing. Familiarity, perhaps. But whenever I try to do something romantic or… you know, intimate… to bring back the spark, it’s not her who’s on my mind. Even if she’s right in front of me.” He sunk back into his chair, shoulders slumped, a deep frown on his face.

“Did you talk to Heather about it?”

Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t want to unnecessarily hurt her. Besides, I keep telling myself that I’m simply overthinking again. Maybe it’s just a phase that I’ll get over.”

“You know,” Fishlegs started carefully, “I don’t think such phases should come up at all.”

The statement rolled around in Hiccup’s stomach, razor-sharp thorns slashing his guts. He knew that his friend was right. But the mental defenses he had put up against the guilt wouldn’t crumble, the armor of the idea that it was a phase that would go by warding off sobering reality.

“I need some air.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket. The rain had turned into a consistent drizzle, the line were dark clouds met bright blue sky visible in the distance.

“Do you want some company? We could take our lunch break early.” Fishlegs half got out of his chair before Hiccup shook his head.

“No, I- I need…” He turned away, opening the door. “I need some time. I’ll figure something out.” And with that, he left, feeling the thoughtful eyes of his friend on his back until he turned around a corner at the end of the hallway. He took the stairs, darted out the front door of the building and kept walking, didn’t slow down, let his feet take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as they didn’t stop. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.

He stared at his shadow, cast by the occasional ray of sunlight breaking through the blanket of clouds that followed him wherever he went. Left, right, left, right, left, right. His shadow led the way, the rest of his body followed. His surroundings shifted into a blur, his limbs moving on autopilot.

Fishlegs was right. He shouldn’t be thinking of another woman while he was in a relationship. It wasn’t fair to either of them, neither Heather nor himself. Oh, this was all so messed up! Why couldn’t he just erase all memories of Astrid and bring everything back to how it was? But the longer he entertained that notion, the clearer it became that he didn’t want that.

The rain didn’t let up, the air around him humid and warm. His hair was starting to get soggy, small droplets of rain trickling down his neck. He should have brought an umbrella. But a tiny part of him, a dark part he had banished to a corner of himself, couldn’t stop thinking that he deserved this – getting slowly soaked in drizzle, impossibly humid air making his clothes cling to his body, agonizing over his feelings.

When he looked up the next time, he had to reorient himself for a minute. He was standing somewhere in the middle of Berk’s famously long shopping street, an ice cream parlor to his right and a bookstore to his left. The lunchtime rush brought more and more people to the streets, creating long lines in front of bakeries and pizza places, a sea of umbrellas flooding the entire pedestrian zone.

Following his growling stomach, Hiccup strolled over to the next food cart serving crêpe. As soon as he swallowed his first bite, he didn’t feel quite as though he was drenched in his own misery anymore. Standing under a canopy, munching on his lunch, he observed the buzzing crowd. There were groups of people, friends, co-workers, mothers pushing strollers, people on their phone, people with shopping bags. He wondered if any of them had ever fallen for a person while they were dating another. How would they handle it? Did they simply get over it and move on? Did they end the relationship and got involved with the other person?

Not that that was an option for him. Astrid wasn’t just off-limits for him because he was with Heather; she was also engaged to another man, and happily so, judging by her dynamic with Eret at the party. The what-if, though, was flashing through his mind despite the armor that was supposed to protect him from the guilt that immediately reared its atrocious head again.

He really needed to sort this out, needed to–

His heart stopped. He was overcome by a feeling akin to the brief moment of shock when missing a step on hazardous stairs. Then his heartbeat accelerated, pounding in his veins, drowning out the voices and noises around him. Memories of tingling electricity spread in his toes and fingertips, the sound of phantom thunder resounding in his ears. His vision narrowed, eyes seeing only her. Astrid.

There she was, her own ray of sunshine, standing out from the crowd. Her expression was bright, the sound of her laughter resonating with the warm feeling that immediately spread in his chest. He couldn’t move, could only look at her, just like the first time he saw her. She had a bag flung over her shoulder, holding a marine blue umbrella in her other hand. Her attention was devoted to the man walking beside her, tall and strong and everything that Hiccup wasn’t.

All of a sudden, something in her expression changed. She came to a halt, angering an older man that had been walking right behind her and hurried past her after throwing her an annoyed look. Eret was already a few paces ahead of her when he noticed she wasn’t next to him anymore. Then, ever so slowly, she turned around, a confused scowl adorning her features. As soon as she locked eyes with him, the bright smile returned, and she waved.

Still too stunned to greet her back, he at least remembered the food in his hands and realized he was close to dropping it. Shoving the last piece of crêpe between his teeth, he tried not to panic as she came over, fiancé in tow.

“Hey, Hiccup!” she yelled, skipping a few small puddles and embracing him in a greeting hug. “So good to see you!” She smelled of something flowery and he tried to not inhale deeply.

He realized he’d never seen her in broad daylight before, where the sun breaking through the clouds illuminated her long hair so that it shone golden. The blue of her eyes seemed even deeper, and he discovered the faint wall of freckles that covered the bridge of her nose.

“Hi, Astrid. Hey, Astrid. Hi, Astrid. Hey. Hi, Astrid,” he stuttered, his efforts to keep calm evaporating into thin air. He mentally facepalmed. Smooth, Hiccup. But she didn’t seem to care, giving him a playful punch on the arm.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”

You have no idea, he thought. “I’m fine, same old, same old…” He tried to not look her in the eyes, which was hard; his attention kept circling back to the miniature skies inside them.

“Hey, man,” Eret greeted him when he caught up to them, and Hiccup gave him a polite nod. He hadn’t really talked to the man much back at the party.

“Eret and I are out looking for wedding dresses and suits. I’m not much of a dress type but some of them were seriously beautiful.” He could imagine. The next second, he rather tried not to. Not while he wasn’t the one in the matching suit. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m not the type for pretty dresses, either, and I don’t have the physique for it.”

“Ha, ha,” she tried to sound unimpressed, but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her. It made his stomach flutter and he kept fighting against the smile that broke out over his face as soon as he let it.

“I’m on a break from work. Clearing my had a bit.”

“Right,” Astrid’s face lit up in interest, “I never asked you what you do.”

“Well, currently, I’m illustrating book covers and the occasional children’s book for Dragon’s Books. It’s not what I always saw myself doing while growing up, but it’s actually not that bad.”

“Sounds neat. Anything I might have read that you illustrated?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think so. I haven’t been with them so long yet so I’m getting all the nameless works for now.”

“Try me.” She put her hands on her hips and leaned slightly forward, a challenging spark in her eyes.

“Have you heard of The Phantom of the Arena?”

She thought for a minute. “Sounds like The Phantom of the Opera.”

“It’s inspired by it.”

“Is it good?”

“Oh yes, you should read it!” The flutter in his stomach increased. He wanted to talk to her about books for hours.

She turned to Eret who Hiccup had completely forgotten was still standing there. His secret hope about geeking out with Astrid fell. “Let’s go to that bookstore at the corner!”

Eret shrugged with one shoulder, looking down at his watch. Hiccup noticed it was a Jaeger, displaying another difference between himself and Eret: wealth. While Hiccup’s dad kept telling him to just take his money, he wanted to earn it himself.

“If we wanna do that, we need to go now before we have to head back.”

Astrid turned back to Hiccup with an excited smile and hugged him goodbye. He tried not to hold onto her for longer than was appropriate. “It was great seeing you, Hiccup.” With that, she left.

He watched her go, arm in arm with Eret. His heart was still pounding so hard in his chest, he was sure it was visible through his shirt, like in a cartoon. His skin was tingling where she had put her hands when she hugged him. The prickling hadn’t stopped, little jolts of lightning flashing through his nerves.

For the rest of the day, he kept thinking back to every second of that short conversation with Astrid. Every smile, every look, every word they shared. It was a miracle he got any of his work done. Fishlegs tried to talk to him about his love life issues again every few minutes, but Hiccup was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t answer. After a few failed attempts, his friend gave up.

He spent the entire bus ride home staring out the window, so lost in his predicament that he missed his stop and had to get out at the next one. The rain had let up, the early evening sun warming his neck as he walked the extra mile home.

It was scary how he didn’t even know Astrid past the few hours they spent together at a party and the few minutes today, but he’s never felt such a strong connection to anyone. He didn’t even know how that even made sense, because it couldn’t, could it? Everything about her kept drawing him in, from her mesmerizing eyes to the strong and self-confident woman that she was. He wanted to talk to her about things that he loved, wanted to hear about her opinions, her interests. Get to know her, be near her, be with her.

There didn’t seem to be a logical reason for all this, nothing he could figure out, like a puzzle or a mechanism. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t just fix this with a sleepless night worth of tinkering. He had to listen to his gut, or to his heart if he wanted to be romantic, and then hope that he didn’t destroy the scaffolding.

When he turned his key in the apartment door, his stomach was twisted in knots again, nerves tugging at his lungs. He closed the door behind him and threw his keys onto the small table next to the coat rack. As slow as possible, he took off his shoes, dreading the moment he had to face his girlfriend.

The clacking of fingernails on a keyboard sounded from the living room. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly approached it. Heather was sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on her laptop, smiling at him when she saw him.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“It- it was fine.” He just stood there in the doorway, rigid, still wearing his jacket.

She looked back at her screen and suddenly, everything became utterly clear. The knot in his stomach was still there, but he knew that he had to do this, that this was what he wanted. He didn’t know if it was the right decision in general, but it felt right, determination replacing the feeling of guilt.

“I’m looking for cheap flights,” Heather said without taking her eyes off the screen. “We could go to Spain or Greece, maybe Rome. Just the two of us. Couple’s vacation, long overdue!” She finally looked up at him again. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He took a deep breath and stood up straight, voice as serious as his frown. “We need to talk.”

#httyd #hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #eret #heather #modern au #ff #fic #fanfic #maja writes #when lightning strikes #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around