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juniperskye · 2 months

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Stick to What You Know.

Sneak peek: Reader is asked to join the BAU by none other than Director Cruz himself. She is a child psychologist and Cruz thought she would make a great asset; it would seem though that Agent Hotchner doesn’t agree.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst

Word count: 3134

Guys...I feel like this is shit, I wrote it in like 3 hours soo…. it’s not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap, some language, one use of y/n I think, Hotch is a DICK in this for a minute (SORRY), reader has children, talk of dissociative identity disorder (in reference to a case), canon case talk/info, mention of murder (in reference to a case), Reader in a child psychologist, reader is friends with Director Mateo Cruz, implied death of Haley. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed anything!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You were so late. You were thanking the lord that you knew Mateo well from having previously worked with him, otherwise your lateness would probably come across as a lack of seriousness or appreciation for the strings he had pulled to get you here. And of course, being lost in thought while simultaneously rushing through an unfamiliar building had you barreling into a handsome stranger…or maybe a handsome acquaintance.

“I am so sorry!” You’d hurried out.

His large hands steadied you with a gentle but firm grasp on your arms. Your eyes glance upward to meet his.

“No worries, are you alright?” He offered.

“I’m good thank you. Wait, you’re Aaron Hotchner, I’ve sat in on a few of your lectures at the university.”

“I am, and thank you, I hope you were able to take something from them.” He blushed.

“I did, oh shoot sorry! I have to go; I am so late!” You said, speed walking away from him.

Aaron couldn’t help but watch as you walked away from him. And you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was far more handsome up close.

After explaining your tardiness to Mateo, he led you to the sixth floor to officially meet your new team. The rest of them anyway.

“Mat, you told them I was joining right? I ran into Agent Hotchner, and he didn’t show any signs of recognition. And I told you I didn’t want to join a team who wasn’t ready and willing to have me.” You ranted.

“Yes I told him, you have nothing to worry about.” He lied. “You head down into the bullpen and meet the agents; I will go up and talk to Agent Hotchner.”

You nodded in agreement and made your way to Emily and Spencer. You exchanged greetings, and Emily took you around to meet everyone else.

“Director Cruz, what can I do for you?” Hotch asked.

“I have a new recruit for you. She will be starting today.” Mateo gestured toward the window.

Aaron glanced out, finding the beautiful woman from this morning standing amongst his team. Morgan must’ve tried to harm her because she threw her head back in laughter with the most beautiful smile. Why her? Why did she have to be joining his team?

“Why didn’t I receive her file?”

“Truthfully Aaron, I didn’t have it together. She and I have worked together on some classified cases. But I have a file here with some of her info. She specializes in child psychology which is something your team is lacking, I figured that she could work with your team on all of your child related cases, but then can occasionally consult with other teams should they need her expertise.” Mateo explained.

“Okay.”

It had been three months since then, and things had not been going well. You had gone on all but one case with the BAU since you’d started. Every single time, Aaron kept you at the local precincts, not allowing you out on any real field work – this was hindering your ability to do your job effectively. You needed to observe the unsub’s home and belongings and dumpsites etc. but he was denying you the opportunity.

The rest of the team had been nothing but welcoming, inviting you into their little family with open arms. None of them could have predicted that Hotch would ice you out the way he was.

Every time you offered a theory or statistic or any sort of information, Hotch shut you down. He would belittle you, constantly making you feel small, and he purposely called you agent instead of referring to you as doctor and well, why should today be any different.

You had been called out on a case and based on all the information the team had acquired so far, you had a pretty good working theory.

JJ, Spencer, and you had been sitting in the room the local precinct had designated as yours for the duration of the case.

“I have an idea…it’s a little out there but hear me out,” You started, your gaze shifting to JJ and Spencer, who both encouraged you to continue. “Okay, so some of the details in this case match, while others are all over the place, like the MO is essentially the same but some of the victims’ injuries show signs of hesitation where others show none, I know hotch mentioned multiple unsubs, but what if it is one unsub, with multiple personalities.”

“Like dissociative identity disorder. You know that would make a lot of sense considering people with DID tend to have highly varying alters or identities. They can range in race, gender, age which would explain why the murders have been so different, it would also explain why the comfort zone is so small.” Spencer validated you.

“See that’s what I was thinking too, they would want to stay close to home in the case that perhaps there was a switch in alter, that way they would be somewhere familiar and be able to return home…”

“That’s enough Agent!” Hotch’s voice boomed through the small room. “I have put up with this for far too long. You came in here unannounced and have continued to provide absolutely ridiculous theories that do nothing but waste our time and resources…”

“Hotch” JJ tried to calm him.

He lifted his hand to silence her before continuing, “You have continued to get in the way of my investigations again and again and I won’t have it anymore. Cruz spoke so highly of you and frankly I don’t see it. I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this agent, but perhaps you should stick to what you know.” Hotch finished.

There was no way in hell that you were going to let yourself cry in front of this asshole. You refused to let him win in this moment.

“You know what Agent Hotchner, I have done nothing but work my ass off for this team and I have provided valuable feedback and information that has led to the capture of multiple unsubs over the last few months. But if you want to sit up there on your high horse and act all delusional, go ahead. I don’t want to be a part of a team who is led by someone so pompous and misogynistic. And one last thing, if you are going to sit there and berate me then you will address me properly. It’s Doctor, not agent…I know that may be hard to remember since it’s a title you don’t hold. Goodnight.” With that you grabbed your jacket and bag and made your way outside.

You ordered an uber and made your way back to the hotel. The nerve Hotch seemed to have filled you with rage, but you wouldn’t stick around to entertain his outburst any longer, you had a call to make.

“Hello?”

“Mat, I need a flight home.” You said, the tears finally beginning to fall.

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Mateo questioned.

“It’s fine, I just have a personal emergency and I need to get home as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing, I am booking your flight now, can you be at the airport in two hours?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

With that you hung up the phone, packed your bag, ordered another uber and made your way outside. You were purposely ignoring the texts coming in from Spencer and JJ. You made sure to slide a note under Spence’s door before leaving.

“Has anyone seen y/n this morning?” Dave asked.

“She left.” Spencer confirmed, holding up the note.

“What why? Is she okay?” Emily asked, concern laced in her tone.

“I can’t blame her. You guys should have seen it, Hotch yelled at her. And I mean full on yelled. I’ve never heard him speak that way to anyone before.” JJ chimed in.

“What are you talking about? He yelled at her. About what?” Morgan questioned.

“He completely flew off the handle. She and Spence were going over a theory about the unsub and he just started yelling, telling her that she was wasting our time and resources.”

The team was in disbelief, Hotch wasn’t mean or condescending, so why was he acting this way now? How could he treat arguably the sweetest member of the team so disrespectfully?

Dave shook his head; he was pretty sure he knew exactly why Aaron was acting out this way. He just couldn’t believe that Aaron had said such harsh things to the girl. His heart broke for her knowing that someone she idolized had been so awful to her, and for all the wrong reasons.

The team had wrapped up that case fairly quickly, you had been right, and the unsub turned out to be a nineteen-year-old male who had been struggling with dissociative identity disorder. Hotch had felt uneasy knowing that he had questioned your intelligence, despite you being an excellent agent.

Upon returning to the BAU, Dave was sure to confront Aaron about his inappropriate behavior. Telling him that he couldn’t treat you terribly just because he couldn’t wrap his brain around the feelings for you he was refusing to acknowledge. Aaron had scoffed at him and told him that he didn’t have feelings for you, but Dave knew he was lying.

You had quite a different experience since returning. The first thing you did was cry, you let yourself release all the pent-up frustration you’d been holding onto since you had started at the BAU. Then, you texted Mat, letting him know that you needed to meet with him.

He was curious and waiting for answers, but he ultimately agreed and waited to ask all his questions until you were face to face.

“So, what’s up? This meeting request was so formal.” Mat laughed.

“I know and I am sorry I have been so vague about everything, but I am here to resign.”

Mat’s smile fell from his face immediately.

“What happened? Did something happen, because I promise you I have looked into the complaints filed against Agent Morgan and Ms. Garcia and I can assure you, they just have a strange friendship.” Mateo tried to explain.

“Mat, slow down! It isn’t like that. I just don’t think it is a good fit, there’s just too many differences between how I work and how the team operates. It’s okay really.” You tried to smile to really sell your lie.

“Well, I can’t help but be disappointed, I really thought that you would be a perfect fit for this team.” Mateo trailed off.

“I know and I am so sorry. I know you had to pull a ton of strings to get me here and I don’t want it to seem like I am not grateful because I can assure you, I am!”

“I know, and it’s alright! If it’s not a good fit then it’s not a good fit.” Mateo flashed you a sad smile.

A few weeks had passed since you had left the BAU, and truly, you had been doing well! You had spent some much-needed time with your family. You had reached out to a good friend of yours and inquired about a job teaching at the local university, which you were truly looking forward to. It had also meant that you would have a free summer to spend some quality time with your kids.

Tonight, you had one of your best friends over, your kids had grown up together and so you liked to do these big “family” dinners together at least once a month, that however meant chaos in the house. Kids yelling, teenagers gossiping, dinner burning…I guess that means you’ll be ordering a pizza.

Your friend and you had been talking about your new job and the excitement you were feeling for it, a movie long forgotten playing in the background, the kids were playing some card game you didn’t recognize when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, I bet that’s the pizza!” You said, making your way to the door.

“I left the cash on the table there!” Your friend shouted.

“Hi…Oh. What the hell are you doing here?” Shock painted its way across your face. Standing at your door was not the pizza delivery guy, but Aaron Hotchner.

“I uh, I came here to talk to you. I know that I do not deserve your time, but I am truly hoping you’ll allow me a few minutes to explain myself.”

“Dude, do you need help or…oh, shit. Sorry! Did you guys need a minute?” Your friend interrupted.

“Um” your gaze shifted from Aaron to your friend. “Agent Hotchner, why don’t we go to the back. Can you keep an eye out for the pizza?” You suggested.

“Of course! You go.” She replied.

Aaron and you made your way to the backyard, in doing so he took note of all the children sitting in the living room, sprawled out across the floor and couches.

“I didn’t know you had children.” Aaron started.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Is that why you came here agent Hotchner? To see my home and profile me?” You questioned him.

“No of course not! I was making an observation. I’m sorry. Like I said, I am here to explain my behavior, none of which will excuse how I acted but I am hoping it might help you to understand some of it.” His gaze shifted around your face. “From the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I knew I was ruined. You were breathtaking, even when you plowed right into me in your rush to the director’s office. You bumped into me and God, then you looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I was a goner. But then you said something to me, and I knew I was done for. Do you remember what you said?”

“I apologized and then I told you I’d gone to some of your lectures. Hold on Agent Hotchner are you saying you were horrible to me because you had a crush on me? What are we? Seven-year-olds on the playground! That is such bullshi….” He didn’t let you finish.

“Hold on. You did mention that you had been to my lectures, but it was what you said as you walked away that had me hooked…you said, “he’s far more handsome up close” and I don’t think you meant to say it out loud, but at that moment I told myself that I was ready. I was ready to move on and I was going to ask you out later that day, but then you walked into the bullpen and Cruz said you’d be a part of the BAU, and I knew it wouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t date my subordinate and I didn’t know what to do, you had called me handsome and I…”

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean to say that out loud and this still isn’t…”

“I’m not finished. You had some sort of attraction for me even if it was just an appreciation for my looks. I already had it bad for you, and to top it all off, you came in and just had to be the sweetest, most loving person in the BAU and I couldn’t have you. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I figured the easiest thing to do would be to make you hate me, then I’d be able to shake these feelings for you, but no. You continued to be kind to me, even if I was awful to you and I couldn’t take it. My breaking point was the look on your face after I yelled at you on that last case. I felt sick with myself. I couldn’t leave things like that; I needed you to know that I don’t think those things. You are an incredible agent and an even better person and I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Aaron finished, looking down at his shoes.

You were speechless. While it felt amazing that the man you had harbored feelings for, returned your feelings. It also felt terrible that he wasn’t mature enough to just be upfront with you from the beginning. Instead, he felt the need to play some arduous game with you. It would be so easy to just throw yourself into his embrace and kiss him and call it all forgotten, but what if this is some insight into his communication skills, or lack thereof?

Your mind and heart were battling one another like an angel and devil on your shoulder. It was a back-and-forth quarrel that seemingly had no correct response, both had the same potential outcomes; you getting your heart broken, regret, potential happiness. What were you meant to do?

“I um, I don’t know what to say. You said some horrible things to me and that doesn’t just go away. Agen Hotchner, we’re adults.”

“Please call me Aaron, or at least Hotch.”

“Aaron we are adults and you acted like a child. Am I meant to just forgive and forget the way you made me feel?”

“No, I would never expect that. I do hope that one day you can forgive me, and if you give me the chance, I would truly love to make it up to you.” He explained.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questioned.

“Okay, you can make it up to me. And maybe, just maybe I will forgive you. It’s not going to be easy though.” You said.

“I wouldn’t want it to be easy.” He smiled.

“Alright well you can start tomorrow. I’d invite you to stay but this is a family dinner and with all the kids it might be a bit chaotic.” You told him.

“That’s fair.”

You could see the wheels turning in his head, he’s trying to figure out the dynamics of your little family, and maybe you could spare him a little bit of leeway.

“Her and I combined have nine kids. I have five and she has four. And before you ask, only two are biologically mine. A close friend of ours passed and I was listed as the personal guardian for her kids. That’s also how I have a teenager.” You explained. “That’s all you get for now.” You teased.

“I will take what I can get. Thank you, for giving me this chance.” Aaron smiled at you.

You smiled back and led him to the door, not missing the shit-eating grin your friend was wearing on her face. You bid him goodnight with a promise to text him to make some sort of plan. You didn’t know what would come of this, or if you’d end up together, but for now, you didn’t need to know. For now, you’d take it one day at a time.

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petertingle-yipyip · 11 months

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Question…? - Miguel O’hara

//the miguel brainrot brought this piece to life tbr. it’s kinda just for shits and giggles but there might be more. depends on how this one does//

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Reader

Word Count: 3,868

Summary: The latest recruit to the Spider Society hits a bit too close to home for its head honcho. But with great power comes great persistence to get answers.

You landed on the roof of your building and pulled your mask up, wiping a hand down your slightly sweaty face. You looked at the bright display of the neon billboard across the alley and saw the breaking news story of your latest bust of the local Midnight Sons crime syndicate. You smirked slightly as you watched the reporter talk to the police who had to reluctantly admit that you, Arachne, had caught them. He tried to dance around it but the fact that your webs were covering the background made it obvious.

Just as you were about to head inside, you felt a tingle shoot down your spine. An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation crawled across your skin so you quickly replaced your mask and spun around, web shooters ready. Instead of being greeted by a foe, you were greeted with a large and seemingly unstable orange circle that vaguely resembled a doorway.

Before you could say anything, you had to drop to your stomach as a motorbike came barreling through. You rolled to your back and flicked a quick burst from either wrist to latch a web to both tires. You kicked yourself back and pulled the bike with you, forcing its rider to disengage and land on the opposite side of the roof.

“Not bad.” She said, though her back was still to you as you stood slowly. “I knew you were quick, but I didn’t think you’d be that quick.”

“Right… And you are?” You asked carefully. You didn’t feel she was a threat, but something about the way she triggered that sixth sense made you tense. “I mean, you came at me full speed on a motorcycle so you owe me that.”

“Jessica Drew.” She turned to face you and the first thing you noticed was her belly. “And I’m just like you.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You decided quickly, a hand covering your stomach.

She laughed and shook her head. After a second, you hesitantly laughed with her. “I meant the Spider Woman thing.”

“Ah…” You nodded before slowly lifting your mask again. “That’s what I felt?”

“Mhmm..”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes and no.” She moved towards her bike, which you hurried over to beside her. “If you’re interested, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You followed her through the orange and ended up in a massive complex. There were dozens upon dozens of variations of… you.

A cat version. A monkey version. A dinosaur. A plushie. A cyborg. An avatar. A video game. Other girls, other guys. Any type of Spider variation you could imagine, it was there.

As you were taking it all in, you were hit with the sharpest pain you’d ever had in your life. It took over your entire body, felt as if you were being yanked apart and haphazardly put back together. Your insides felt rearranged and your head spun violently while everything seemed to be ignited. But the pain only lasted for a second.

Jessica told you it was your body glitching from being outside your own universe, which she also explained was granted the official title of Earth-3505. She slipped a blue band around your wrist and you felt every ounce of tension in your body disappear. She explained the device on her wrist, how it kept her from glitching while allowing for travel to any dimension.

You had to admit. All the tech and different universes blew every single theory and experiment you had ever known out of the water.

You were talking with Jessica through the long walk down a rather dark and drafty hall that led to a wide open work area. She called to the man on the platform, which began to lower at an agonizingly slow pace. Awkwardly, you rocked on your heels and fiddled with your web shooters, checking the cartridges and scratching away the dried remnants from your earlier endeavors. You tugged the neck of your suit and dusted imaginary dirt off before running fingers through your hair and giving it a small shake in an effort to look a bit more presentable.

When you heard the gears click into place you looked back and found yourself in utter shock, despite him not even facing you yet.

And as someone who would fight the Bloodstones, a werewolf, and the literal avatar of a god of the moon, it took a lot to render you speechless.

The man on the platform was massive. The width of his chest and shoulders alone was at least the size of a twin mattress. His height towered over yours and you could tell even from the distance he was at. His upper body narrowed ridiculously into his waist, though his legs were proportionately built as well. And covering that Hercules-esque physique was a fitted red and blue suit, just like everyone else you had seen in that building.

So why hadn’t he given you the same tingle Jessica did?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when an elbow came roughly into your ribs.

“What?” You asked quickly, an innocent obliviousness in your voice.

“Introduce yourself.” Jessica hissed.

“Right.” You nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Y/N, from Earth 35-something.”

“3505.” She whispered.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m like you and her and everyone else here… Back home I’m called Arachne, like the.. The myth. I’m sorry, are you not gonna face me?”

“¿Mande?” He said sharply and the sound of his voice drove your pulse to jump.

“If you’re gonna have your back to me the whole time, why am I even here?” You pushed, though your resolve was slowly shattering as you watched him turn around.

The room may have been dimly lit but you could see what looked like a red tint to his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as he hopped off the platform and stalked closer to you. You swallowed hard and flattened your two middle fingers against your palm to feel the trigger for your webs. “Why are-“

His sentence cut off abruptly when he got a few feet away from you.

“Miguel?” Jessica asked from beside you. You had forgotten she was there but you felt a bit more relaxed to know you weren’t alone in that room. “What is it?”

“What did you say your name was?” He asked. His words were intended to be more gentle, more intimate maybe, but they still had enough of an edge to keep your fingers where they were.

“Y/N… And you’re..?”

His face fell at your uncertainty, though you doubted Jessica noticed. He recovered rather quickly, as if your words reminded him of something painful. Something he already knew.

“Miguel O’hara.” He stood a bit taller, if that was even possible.

“It’s nice to meet you… You built all of this?” You asked lamely in hopes to fill the silence that you felt would suffocate you if you ignored.

“Yeah.. It’s a way to preserve the multiverse. Everyone here was hand picked to serve a bigger cause, to protect each other’s universe and canons.”

“I assume that’ll get explained if I get in?” You turned to Jessica who nodded with a small, amused smile.

“¿Perdóname, si entras?” His head cocked as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that you felt was sarcastic. “No.”

“What?” You and Jessica asked at the same time.

“No.” He enunciated, hands at his waist and leaning forward.

“Why not?” You asked angrily, stepping forward with no regard to the size difference. “I can take anyone here!”

“Miguel, she’s really good.” Jessica tried earnestly. “I think you should give her a shot.”

“No.”

“C’mon.” She pressed.

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” You challenged suddenly and the glare he shot your way made you hesitate.

“Afraid?” He laughed. “Afraid.. I’m not afraid.”

“Then what?”

“She looks just like her.” Miguel said, more to Jessica than you.

“Who?” She asked softly.

Miguel shot her a different look than the one he gave you. This one has more longing, more pain. You looked like someone he used to know. Likely someone he lost.

“Lyla.” Jessica said softly, waiting a moment for a hologram woman in a fur coat to appear at her shoulder. “Show Y/N around a little more, please.”

“Who- Oh.” The hologram spoke before disappearing and reappearing in front of you. She leaned in and lifted her heart shaped glasses before blinking away and reappearing up at Miguel’s side. A quick back and forth of hushed comments brought her back to you as she ushered you out of the room.

Lyla spoke quickly to you, bouncing around within your field of vision. She pointed out different Spider People, different villains. She showed you the machine that sent people home and the training center. While you were wandering the vast exercise area, you met two boys playfully roughhousing who seemed to create the golden retriever with black cat meets boys will be boys dynamic.

“Ooh! Who’s the new girl?” One of them ran up to you with a palpable excitement.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled and the other one leaned in close.

“Look at that.” He said with a small smirk, seemingly changing color with each sentence. “Got little fangs and all. That’s mad.”

“Whaaaat? Let me see!” The first one pushed the taller one aside and replaced him, though he leaned in significantly closer.

“I’m guessing these aren’t normal for Spiderman.” You laughed and gently pushed him back. “What’re your names?”

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He offered you a short salute.

“Pavitr Prabhakar.” He gave an extravagant bow. “How long have you been a spider person?”

You blew out a sigh and tried to calculate the numbers. “A few years? It happened my senior year of high school, and then the two years there... And then.. All I know is its been a while. You guys?”

“Couple months.” Pavitr answered with a small hop. “It’s been so easy.”

“Three years.” Hobie answered simply. “And yeah, it’s not bad. Your universe a mess, then?”

“I think mine is a weird one based on what you guys have said.” You answered awkwardly. “Werewolves, swamp things, Egyptian gods, monster hunters.”

“Sounds like a fantasy book.” Hobie scoffed.

“That’s the Midnight Sons for you.” You shrugged. “There’s normal stuff too, like other vigilantes. Daredevil and Black Cat and the Widow.”

“Were they bitten by a spider too?” Pavitr added with wide eyes.

“Who, Widow? Not that I know of.”

“How’d you get the little-“ Hobie made a vague fang gesture. “You a vampire, too?”

“Well, no.” You rubbed a hand over your mouth, suddenly embarrassed of your teeth.

“You’ve got everything else. Figured you had the little blood suckers and allat.”

“There’s rumors of one guy but I haven’t met him.. Actually, the spider that bit me was a mix between the same thing that created my world’s Goblin and just the radioactive spider. It was supposed to be able to cure something but…” You shrugged.

“Do they do anything?” Pavitr asked, still looking at your mouth intently. He slowly reached a finger forward so you leaned away and gently pushed his hand to the side.

“Uh..” Your brows furrowed. “Idunno.” You mumbled as you shrugged.

“You’ve never tried to bite anyone?” He laughed and Hobie facepalmed gently. “I totally would’ve.”

“I’ll try it when I get home.” You laughed slightly. You glanced around and noticed the AI woman - Lyla - was nowhere to be seen. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Go for it.” Hobie nodded and Pavitr’s head bounced up and down like a bobble head.

“The little AI, Lyla… Does she see everything?” You asked quietly.

“You trynna do somtin’ you shouldn’t, aye?” Hobie quirked a brow.

“I wanna try to talk to Miguel but I get the feeling that she’ll keep me away.”

“Why?” Pavitr whispered loudly,

“Cause he sent me away, said I looked too much like someone.”

“Oy, Pav.” Hobie nudged the smaller boy before leaning down and plotting quietly. They went back and forth for a few moments before looking back at you. “Make it quick, yeah?”

“I owe you.” You grinned.

Pavitr and Hobie shared a small fist bump before Pavitr reached his fist towards you. You chuckled slightly and returned the gesture before the two ran off. It was only a few moments before sprinklers went off in the room. Lyla popped in and out of view, speaking rapidly and tapping small screens in front of her. She appeared in front of you, disheveled glasses and jacket hanging from her shoulders.

“Do. Not. Move.” She said firmly and you held hands up in surrender. She pointed two fingers at her eyes before pointing to you, gesturing up and down your body before disappearing again.

You leaned around slightly to ensure her digital frame was nowhere to be seen before you booked it out of the room. Your wet feet slipped on the sleek tiles so you opted to swing across the complex and back to Miguel’s workspace.

You wiped a damp hand across your face as you entered the hall again before you pulled yourself to the ceiling and crawled down the long corridor. Jessica left in a huff, muttering that he was unreasonable and that she wasn’t done. You watched her freeze and turn around, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You stayed still above her in hopes that she wouldn’t find you but with the water subtly dripping from your suit and hair, you thought you were caught. With a small smirk, she turned back and left.

You blew out a small sigh and continued down your path until you reentered Miguel’s wide open room. His back was towards the entrance as he vigorously typed and swiped various projections away. He was muttering to himself, broken Spanglish as he worked in that increasingly frazzled state. His head cocked over his shoulder as you clung to the space above the door.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked tightly, unable to face you fully. “And why are you wet?”

“I just…” You spoke, realizing you had no idea how to start. “May like some explanations.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke simply, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Okay, but… What if I just ask some general questions that have simple answers? Is that okay? I mean, can I ask you a question? Well a couple, but you know what I mean.”

“Can you please stop, just for a second?“ He sighed and pressed his palms against the table. You pursed your lips slightly and drummed your fingers against the wall while you waited for him to say something. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

“I don’t usually have to beg like this.” You confessed. You shifted your feet and leaned your shoulders against the wall behind you, allowing your hands to aim webs at the edge of his platform. You pulled yourself over and stood in front of him. “Miguel, please…”

“Ay, dios mío. You sound just like her, too.” He spoke to himself, though the desperation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here because whoever I remind you of, that’s not good enough of a reason.” You insisted. Your words finally got him to turn and face you, which really drove home just how big he was. You gave a nervous chuckle and crossed your arms in an attempt of defiance. “I can prove myself against anyone here. I know I can do this!”

“It’s not about whether you’re-“ He began before he leaned down closer. You pulled back and teetered the edge of the platform. “What was that?”

“You got a little close.” You defended with a shrug.

“Not that, cariño.” He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay!” You said loudly, trying to push him by his chest. “That’s not how you- Ugh! Whatthehellare-“

Your words became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables when his hand came to your face, fingers pressing gently on your cheeks to keep your lips apart. His pointer finger was free to manipulate your upper lip, exposing one side of your mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he let you go.

“Thought so..” He offered a lazy smirk. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Is this like.. part of the initiation process or something?” You tried to joke as you held up one hand. He took it by your wrist and gave your palm a gentle prod, just missing the trigger for your web shooter. “What are you looking for?”

“You always talk this much?” He mumbled with a small eye roll as he let go of your hand.

“It’s just a question.” You muttered and poured slightly.

He sat back on the edge of a table behind him, allowing for a more even eye line. But even at the new lowered height, he was definitely taller than you.

“How can anyone focus around you?” He said with a shake of his head.

“I can put the mask on, if it helps.” You offered awkwardly, reaching for the side pouch you usually tucked it away in.

Miguel looked back at you and laughed. A seemingly genuine sound that, up until that moment, you weren’t entirely sure was possible.

You took the opportunity to move away from the edge of the platform and stand more in front of him. Your hands rested lazily behind you and you simply looked at him for a minute.

The obvious physical stature was still as intimidating as ever but there was something in his expression. Something haunted, something guilty. However, when his eyes met yours, there was a softness there. A certain longing.

How does anyone focus around you? You thought as you took in his features for a little longer.

“You always stare like that when you’re not talking?” His brows raised with a slight smile as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not usually.” You answered with a shrug of one shoulder in an attempt to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for with my hand, but you didn’t send me away again so maybe that was a good thing… Maybe I can…”

“Go ahead and ask your questions.” He nodded, adding a tired sigh at the end as if to say he was giving in. You thought he was curious as to what you wanted to know.

“What’s the big deal about my teeth?”

“Your teeth..” He chuckled slightly. “Most of the spiders around here don’t have fangs, cariño.”

“Right but why do you care?”

“Cause I have them too.”

“What do yours do?”

“Paralysis. Yours?”

“Dunno.” You confessed. “I’ve never bit anyone. Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You flicked a web at his chest and yanked him to lean forward, earning a small Spanish exclamation from him. You kept hold of the web with one hand and put the other on his shoulder as you leaned in slightly. His eyes darted between yours in slight shock before he broke into a small smile, enough for you to see a moderately more pronounced version of the same teeth in your mouth.

“Woah.” You said quietly as your eyes drifted to where your webs met his suit. “Wait..”

“What is it?” He asked lowly and the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Your suit. It’s all tech?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” You breathed with a smile, which faded as you squinted and noticed a falter in the colors. “It’s like a projection, which means if I…” You gave another slight tug on your web and watched the distortion of the colors where your palm was pressed against him. You laughed slightly before looking back at Miguel.

The web suddenly snapped and you stumbled backwards. You looked down and saw the excess still wrapped around your wrist. The tensile strength was much stronger than that so it shouldn’t have betrayed you so suddenly. It had never failed before. Turning your head back to Miguel, you saw the projections from the pads of his fingers.

“You were looking for claws?” Your brows raised as your head jerked towards his hand. “You could’ve asked.”

He simply shrugged.

“Let me ask you something…” He said calmly as he leaned back to his originally sitting position. “Why do you wanna be here so bad?”

“Good girl.” You gestured to yourself. “Sad boy.” You gestured to him and he shook his head with a scoff. You offered a small smile before wandering in a small circle, your back now to Miguel. “We all have this one thing going on.. And it’s always one thing after another, situations and circumstances and miscommunications. Losing people and losing fights, it’s all part of the job but… Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe I just like the idea of not being alone, of not being the only one.”

You turned back to face him and saw he hadn’t looked away.

“It’d be nice to not be the only one with fangs, either.” You smiled, flashing your pointed teeth.

“You never told me why you’re wet.” He commented after a brief moment of silence.

“Oh.” You laughed nervously. “Funny story.”

You heard the muttered complaints come down the hall at the same time the tingle of another spider person hit your skin. Your eyes went wide when Lyla popped up in front of you, glaring at you with tightly crossed arms. You offered an innocent smile with hands up in surrender.

“Y/N!” Pavitr yelled with a wide grin as he entered the room, Hobie sulking behind him. The boy turned and began patting his friend’s shoulder excitedly. “It worked!”

“What worked?” Miguel turned to you.

“Those two-“ Lyla said angrily as she appeared in front of Miguel and pointed at the two spidermen. “-set of a fire alarm in the training center.”

“And that was your idea?” He looked to you again.

“Nah, mate.” Hobie answered casually. “Was all me.”

“You?” He shouted and then wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t- I can’t deal with you right now. Both of you, go help mop up and dry the training center. Just- Get out of my sight.”

Hobie offered you a salute before sauntering out, Pavitr quick on his heels. You smiled to yourself before you hopped off the platform, shooting a quick web to help control your descent.

“Where are you going?” Miguel called after you, causing your stride to pause. You spun to face him with a playful smile.

“To help clean up.. They did it so I could talk to you, after all.” You shrugged.

“Come back here when you’re done.” He tossed a device your way, the same device the other spiders had around their wrists.

“Gonna miss me already?” You teased as you fit it to your wrist, replacing the temporary band you were given.

“Always, cariño.”

You realized you hadn’t found out anything in regards to who you looked like from Miguel’s past, but with the confirmation that you’d come back, you figured you’d find out in time.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman fanfic #spiderman 2099 #2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fic #across the spiderverse #smatsv #across the spiderverse fic #spiderverse fic #spiderverse x reader

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piracytheorist · 1 year

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A few notes on trigger discipline, with examples from Spy x Family

One of the first things you learn when learning how to use a gun is that you absolutely do NOT put your finger on the trigger unless you're 100% ready and willing to shoot (and deal with whatever the consequences may be).

Accidental fire is extremely easy to occur. If your finger is touching the trigger, a simple spasm of the hand, a sudden sound or movement in the environment, or jostling from moving can cause the finger to pull the trigger. If you haven't aimed correctly at something that you want to shoot at, you'll very likely shoot something you don't want to shoot, including your own body parts. That's not even counting the fact that you may not properly control the recoil.

So normally, you need to train your discipline so that your first instinct when picking up a gun - especially during a stressful moment - will be for the finger to not go on the trigger until the gun is properly aimed at who/what you want to shoot.

I only trained with air guns some years ago, but discipline was still important; you wrap your hand around the handle with the index finger away from the trigger, make sure you have a good grip on it, raise the gun from the counter, aim, align the sights, and then you put the finger on the trigger and shoot. The one (1) time I accidentally put my finger on it before raising the gun, I shot at the wall while raising it and got a very angry look from my instructor. I was lucky that's all I got.

Since then, I've been noticing trigger discipline in media, and a lot of those get it very wrong.

To his big credit, Tatsuya Endo gets it right.

Twilight's finger is resting parallel to the barrel of the gun, away from the trigger. While this entire pose is more artistic than realistic, it was still important to Endo to portray correct discipline. You don't do that if you don't know about it.

Similarly with Nightfall in the cover of the sixth volume.

Again, artistic, not realistic pose. Still correct discipline.

More examples of artistic depictions with correct discipline:

And then! An action pose!

Twilight has a clear ready-to-shoot pose; he has a target, so finger goes on the trigger. (Normally the gun should be a little higher so he can properly align the sights but he's TwilightTM so I give it a pass)

Even Bondman has good discipline!

Seeing correct discipline in those pictures piques my interest a lot, because it shows that the artist is consciously choosing when he'll show a finger on a trigger, making such a moment more impactful.

Twilight aims his gun right on Edgar's head, his finger on the trigger. Again, you don't put your finger on the trigger unless you're about to shoot. If you're only threatening someone, it should still be off because one single unintentional fire can kill your target when you didn't mean to. Now, I can suspend my disbelief and say Twilight has super duper control over his body to the point of not being jostled or his hand not spasming suddenly because he's TwilightTM. So I instead focus on how serious Twilight was here about killing Edgar. Should Edgar do any movement, he's dead.

Again, it's about the knowledge of trigger discipline itself. When you portray a character not touching the trigger when they don't need to, showing the opposite hits harder.

The Handler prepares the gun ominously, her finger off the trigger.

But when she aims it at the student's head...

She's serious. She's made sure the students heard her prepare the gun, so when she threatens the student, he knows what he's facing despite wearing a blindfold.

Again, in a realistic scenario, in both cases their fingers would rest away from the trigger, because their intention is not to kill their targets unless absolutely necessary. But that might have confused the readers who don't know about trigger discipline, and might have made for less impactful moments. So I give that a pass, especially since Endo is shown to be aware of correct discipline.

The anime is also aware of this.

Twilight is assessing the situation; finger is off the trigger.

The Handler prepares the gun; finger off.

She threatens the student; finger on.

(Of course, there have been moments both in manga and anime with incorrect depictions. But I can let those pass cause I know there's a lot of people involved in creating the art and things can get complicated)

A few more examples, from the Imperial Scholars meeting:

Those are very short moments, but someone drew those stills and intentionally had the guards' index fingers extended and not around the trigger.

As I said above, those examples pique my interest because they are conscious, deliberate choices... and good use of that can make for an impactful scene... say, identity reveal happens, Twilight is aiming his gun at the Thorn Princess, but his finger is off the trigger. He urges himself to put the finger on it, but the damn thing won't move... she also cannot bring herself to stab him even though her dagger is right at his throat, and she notices his hesitation... Endo-sensei I am begging...

(don't spoil me if it happens in the manga, let me live in ignorance)

#Spy x Family #tw: guns #guns tw #sxf meta #500 #1k

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randomgurl2326 · 4 months

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Andromeda and Perseus: Destined

Prologue

Harry Potter Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Moodboards

Welcome to the first part of Andromeda and Perseus: Destined!!!! I am SO excited to start this and see where this goes. Thank you to everyone who took a chance on this fic. Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you💚💜 Now, on with the show…

P.S.: please tell me what you think about this and if I should improve it and republish it later. If you can’t already scared, I’m scared out of my mind😭

May 29th, 1986

Outside Malfoy Manor

“Tag! You’re it!” The sound of the four children playing outside Malfoy Manor, not a care in the world. While inside the Manor, more nefarious dealings are going on…

Theodore Nott, Y/N Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, and Draco Malfoy were inseparable for their age, though each had their favorite. Y/N aside Theodore and Mattheo aside Draco. Neither of the four was rarely seen far from the other, the group causing mischief when their parents weren’t looking (or in the twins’ case, their caretakers, the Malfoy’s).

As time sees it currently, the Core Four as they so deemed themselves, were playing tag. Currently, the older of the twins–Mattheo–was the tagger, heading straight for his sister, laughing maniacally.

“Come on, Y/N/N! Give your big brother a hug,” the Riddle boy tumbles towards his sister (who currently is using Theodore as a shield), arms wide open.

Y/N laughs, shielding herself from her brother, “Teddy, save me!”

“Don’t worry! I got you,” the curly-haired Nott boy shields the tiny girl from her bumbling brother.

Mattheo comes barreling into Theo saying, “You’re it, Theo!”

Y/N quickly lets go of the boy and runs with the other two, laughing and yelling. Mattheo and Y/N go running to Draco trying to sway Theodore to go towards him instead. Though making the mistake of looking back, Y/N runs into her brother, making him fall onto the Malfoy boy. Theodore, not seeing what had occurred between the three, preceded to fall onto all three.

For a split second, everything goes quiet between the four. Each eyeing the other intently. Suddenly, a chorus of laughs erupts from the Core Four. The laughs were the loudest and the hardest they had ever shared (though not saying much as they were all of six at the time).

None of the children knew it, but this would be one of the last times they would ever laugh nearly as hard until they reached their mid-twenties. Because in a few years time, things would take a drastic turn for the worse. The stars would seem darker, memories would seem bleaker, and happiness would feel as if a thing of the past.

Another thing none of the children knew was what dealings were currently unfolding inside the house between Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott Sr., nor what was brewing between two certain children currently staring at each other intently with happiness within their eyes. Not knowing how much truth the nicknames they had deemed each other with would hold…

The three boys stood, Y/N still lying content on the drive of Malfoy Manor.

Theo held out his tiny hand smiling the biggest smile he ever smiled, “Ready, Andromeda?”

Y/N grabbed his tiny hand with her own, the same infectious smile gracing her face, “Ready, Perseus.”

They were in fact NOT READY…

May 29th, 1986

Inside Malfoy Manor

“That settles it then.” The strict voice of Lucius Malfoy emanates through the room, “Your boy and the sole daughter of the Dark Lord will be wed in the summer of their sixth year.”

Theodore Nott Sr. nods stiffly, his Italian accent prominent as he voices, “A match of the Dark Lord himself.”

The wives of the two Death Eaters–Narcissa Malfoy and Circe Nott, best friends–look at each other in trepidation, already aware of their husband’s intentions beforehand. The knowing look they gave each other calmed and confirmed their worried thoughts of their husband’s business dealings. Wishes for the children to be able to choose their own destinies (although, both knew that the younger Riddle twin and the Nott boy would end up in each other's arms either way) swirling unsaid through the air.

Outside, the rain starts. The children rush inside in, hushed whispers dissipating as they reach the eyes of the adults sensing the serious atmosphere, smiles still apparent on their faces.

Narcissa and Circe give each other one last glance before they turn to the Core Four and smile. “Come here little ones,” the voice of Narcissa rang out through the lounge room, opening her arms. The children rush towards their respective mother figures, going on about their day of tag.

Lucius and Nott Sr. reenter the room calling the attention of the children. Theodore Sr. clears his throat, “Theodore, Y/N. Would you please join us?”

The brown-haired boy and the h/c girl look to each other and join Theo’s father and Y/N’s temporary father figure inside the large, dark office.

Malfoy gestures to two seats before the best friends, “Sit. We have much to discuss…”

That evening, the Nott boy and the Riddle girl lost the first piece of their innocence, learning as to what was to be expected of them. At the age of six, both betrothed to each other for an eternity.

At least they would always be each other’s Perseus and Andromeda…

Next Chapter…

———————————————————————————-

I CANT believe it, first chapter of Perseus and Andromeda: Destined already out! I truly cannot believe it! This is my first real fic, and I am absolutely besotted for it to actually come to fruition. Thank you to ALL of you whether you’re new or old.

I’m sure you guys are just as excited as I am to join Theo and Y/N on their journey of love, heart-break, and everything in-between. (Little spoiler alert: they both receive the happy ending they deserve.)

As always, advice is ALWAYS appreciated, along with comments, likes, and of course: reblogs.

Again, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!💚💜 I love you all!! Always feel free to talk to me, whether you need to get something off your mind or talk about something totally insane, I WILL BE THERE!

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @cinderellawithashoe @niktwazny303 @claranunez @desiray562 @jetblackpayne @fandom-life-12 @hanversace @trshngyn @silencionyx @c-dizzle99 @starmansirius @ssc7514 @amwhy

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oknowkiss · 5 months

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my lucky number - 42, drarry. please and thank you!

you got it! please enjoy! ~600 words, rated T for language. les champs-elysées - joe dassin

Harry decides to have breakfast in Paris. He’s twenty-one, it’s nine in the morning on the sixth of June, and the cleansing power of his hangover has allowed him to realise he can go anywhere he wants, with anyone, to do anything, for the rest of his life.

His Portkey lands in an alley a short distance from the Eiffel Tower, because after the agent had asked him where he’d like to go, and after he’d replied, “Erm… France?” she had said, “The first timer package, then. Return trip is half eight. Here’s your list of attractions and instructions for a basic translation charm.”

No matter. He has breakfast at a street-side cafe, espresso and carbs and sunlight quieting the pounding inside his head.

He visits several of the attractions on the Portkey agent’s list: the Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre. All of them are far too crowded, and by midday he’s resolved not to follow the list. After all, isn’t that the point of this excursion? To do what he wants?

Harry has a glass too many of vin rouge at lunch and his confidence inflates in direct opposition to his experience with France, his ability to manage having time to himself, his general awareness of his surroundings and how to navigate them.

Which is to say: it’s now seven, ninety minutes before his Portkey takes him back home, and all he’s done is become increasingly lost. Harry chews on a bite of pasta and wonders if it counts as being lost, if you never had a destination to begin with? Perhaps he’s been lost — or not lost — since leaving the Forbidden Forest four years ago. Every day a step further into the void, away from his intended purpose.

A loud, sudden coughing rouses Harry from his thoughts. Harry’s head snaps to the left, his hands already in fists, ready for action.

“What the bloody fucking hell are you doing here?” Draco Malfoy splutters, staring at Harry with watery eyes. Around them, several diners look away. A lover’s quarrel, they presume. In Paris? How droll.

“Malfoy?” Harry asks stupidly. It’s obviously Malfoy. No one else looks like him, which is actually quite annoying seeing as it means Harry can’t chalk it up to misconception when Malfoy sneaks into his wank fantasies.

And no, he doesn’t want to talk about that.

“The one and only, thanks to you,” Malfoy replies meanly. A steak sits half-eaten on his plate, red juice pooling on the china. It doesn’t not remind Harry of the second floor girls bathroom.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve got the wrong orphan,” Harry says. Then, because he’s already bored with this argument, “You live in Paris, do you?”

“What’s it to you?” Malfoy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Nothing, I suppose.” Harry shrugs. “Forget it.” He turns back to his food.

“It’s my birthday,” Malfoy says, calling Harry’s attention again. “Well, yesterday. This is my gift to myself.”

“Eating dinner alone?” Harry asks, amused.

“Go ahead and laugh—” Malfoy starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Harry says. “I—” He bites his lip. “I do the same thing.”

“Other people are exhausting,” Malfoy insists, his face red.

“Hell is other people,” Harry says. Then he's blushing, too. “I read that on a bag once.”

“And did it hurt, reading all those words in one go?” Malfoy says. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

Harry checks his watch. Half-seven. He looks down at his pasta. Mostly eaten.

“I’ve an hour before my Portkey,” Harry says, and he’s barreling forward blindly now, no idea where this will land. “Shall we order dessert?

(give me a number 1 - 100 & i'll write you a drabble based on the corresponding song on my spotify wrapped)

#this is based off the english translation of the lyrics so i really hope it's not wildly off the mark #wrapped drabbles #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #my fic

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tatumrileyslover · 5 months

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Shattered Unity

[Fragment One: I] [Fragment One: II]

Synopsis: Jill Roberts had everything, a perfect house, with a perfect family and a perfect little sister, who she cared for far more than she realised.

Pairings: Jill Roberts x Sister! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nothing so far :) some sibling fluff

34 Elm Street epitomized the pinnacle of luxury in Woodsboro, an affluent community coveted by all. The neighborhood itself exuded an aura of safety, lined with sycamores and white picket fences. In the middle of it all stood the Roberts household, bustling with the loud sounds of a typical Monday morning.

Jill rolled over in her plush bed, pulling her pillow over her ears to block out the loud noise of her alarm. Letting out a deep groan, her arms fumbled around until they found the snooze button. Her eyelids fluttered shut again, aiming to steal a few more precious moments of sleep until a sudden crash echoed from downstairs.

"Sweetheart!" Her mother's voice reverberated through the house. "Are you okay?"

Jill could hear her little sister mumbling something in response, probably attempting to make herself breakfast. She always had this habit of striving for independence. Jill stretched, her long black hair cascading as she released it from the loose bun of the night before. Running her fingers through the tangles, she slipped into a pair of jeans and rummaged through her wardrobe in search of a shirt. As Jill swung her door open, the sound of small feet scampering up the stairs reached her ears. It seemed her sister had an uncanny sixth sense for detecting when Jill was awake.

"Jill!" Her little form came barreling around the corner, running toward Jill's feet. Her face lit up when she saw her sister. "I made you pancakes," she announced proudly. Jill laughed and asked if that was what the crash was. The little one hid her face in Jill's shirt, her speech muffled by the fabric. "I might have dropped the pan." Jill ruffled her hair before manoeuvring around her to start going downstairs.

The kitchen bore the aftermath of a culinary hurricane—flour dusted every available surface, eggshells added a crunch underfoot, and a symphony of pots and bowls occupied the sink. Amidst this chaos sat a plate of hastily assembled pancakes, syrup awaiting its inevitable deployment. As Jill cautiously surveyed the scene, her foot met an unexpected puddle of milk, sending a shiver up her spine as the sock soaked up the liquid.

Suppressing a sigh, Jill turned her attention to her sister, ready to issue a gentle reprimand. However, before she could speak, (Y/n) beat her to it with a spirited declaration. "Don't worry, Jill! I'm cleaning it all up after I eat. I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat before Kirby picks you up." Her bright smile melted any lingering frustration, reminding Jill why (Y/n) was her undeniable soft spot.

"You're such a little troublemaker, (Y/n)," Jill joked, pulling off her damp sock. She walked to the kitchen table, grabbing a few pancakes to smother in syrup. (Y/n) climbed onto the stool beside her big sister, looking at her intently. "Speaking of Kirby, do you think I can say hi when she comes to pick you up? I want to show her the picture I drew of us three!" Jill looked over, shocked at her sister, talking with a mouthful of pancake. "You drew a picture of me?" (Y/n) corrected her, saying it was all three of them together, but Jill's mind was elsewhere. All (Y/n) ever drew was puppies and rainbows—childish things. Never had Jill seen her draw a person, never mind her.

Jill's fork hovered mid-air, laden with syrup-soaked pancake, as she stared at (Y/n) with wide eyes. The surprise etched across her face deepened, a mix of disbelief and genuine awe. For a moment, she was caught in the realization that her little sister had moved beyond the realm of fluffy animals and sunny scenes, venturing into something far more personal.

"You drew a picture of me?" Jill repeated, as if the words needed confirmation. The syrup dripped slowly back onto the plate, forgotten in her slackened grip. (Y/n)'s innocent nod was met with an almost incredulous smile from Jill, as if the simple act of portraying her in a drawing was a revelation.

"(Y/n), that's... incredible," Jill finally managed, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and warmth. The thought that her sister had chosen to illustrate her, amid all the subjects she could have picked, lingered in the air like a sweet revelation.

"I'll show it to you!" (Y/n)'s syrup-sticky hands seized Jill's, leading her in an eager ascent up the stairs, their footsteps an echo of shared laughter. The little haven at the top, (Y/n)'s room, painted in every shade of pink. It was a sanctuary of innocence, adorned with unicorns, magical creatures, and the captured moments of their life.

The walls told stories in crayon and glitter drawings, tales of a childhood untainted by the complexities of the world beyond. Pictures of Jill and (Y/n), frozen in time, grinned back at them. Jill couldn't help but notice the subtle nostalgia woven into the room, a familiar echo of her own youth. The glow-in-the-dark stars overhead seemed to promise dreams as pure and boundless as the universe itself.

Most of the toys strewn across the floor were remnants of Jill's childhood, a nostalgic scatter of innocence now usurped by time. Yet, what tugged at Jill's heartstrings most was the teddy bear lying on the bed, a mirror image of the one resting in her own room. (Y/n) never ventured anywhere without that bear. It was a shared relic, a testament to a bond forged in the simplicity of happier times.

As Jill sank into memories, the room became a vessel of echoes. Most vivid was the recollection of a day long past, a shopping trip with her father to find the perfect gift for baby (Y/n). The brown bear, soft and fluffy, had captured Jill's heart. She pleaded with her father to let her have one too. That day marked the last fragment of happiness she could recall with him.

A small shake brought Jill back to the present. She found herself gently pushed to sit on the edge of the bed. (Y/n) darted to the desk by the door, the chaotic rustle of pages scattering in her wake. Amidst the flurry, a small sound of excitement at her discovery. (Y/n) rushed back, concealing a page behind her back, anticipation dancing in her eyes.

Jill was presented with a page, a kaleidoscope of waxy stripes in every imaginable color. Amidst the vibrant chaos, three figures took center stage. Two of them stood at a similar height, towering protectively over a smaller figure nestled between them. A soft smile graced Jill's lips as she looked at her younger sister, who returned the gaze with anticipation sparkling in her eyes.

Gently, Jill pulled (Y/n) into her arms, the paper the only barrier between then. She whispered softly in her sister's ear, "Kirby's going to love this."

Kirby's car rushed into the driveway of the Roberts household, letting out a loud beep that echoed in the quiet neighborhood. As Jill stepped onto the front porch, the car's blaring music masked the sounds around them.

"Before you get in the car, you need to promise not to kill me!" Kirby shouted over the music, quickly turning it off as Jill approached.

"Why?" Jill asked, walking closer to the passenger door, while her sister eagerly ran toward the car. "What did you do?"

"Trevor called me last night," Kirby explained, and Jill's face twisted in disgust. "Why is he calling you?" She leaned down, poking her head through the car window, while (Y/n) stood on her tiptoes to get Kirby's attention.

"Because you won't take his calls, he knows I have you here and he wants to know," Kirby said. Jill opened the door with a roll of her eyes, and Kirby shifted her focus to (Y/n), greeting her with a warm, "Hi pumpkin!"

Ignoring Kirby's attempt to divert the conversation, Jill pressed, "Know what?" Kirby's eyes darted away from (Y/n), who stood eagerly waiting to share something. "How upset you are." She finished.

Olivia hopped into the backseat of the car, engaging Jill in conversation about Trevor. While they chatted, Kirby shifted her attention to the younger Roberts sister, who stood patiently at the door. With an exuberant greeting, she handed Kirby a piece of paper, saying, "I drew this for you!" Kirby smiled at the young girl, touched by the fact that her best friend's younger sister cared enough to create a drawing. "It’s me, you, and Jill," she explained, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

"It’s amazing, (Y/n)!" Kirby examined the drawing carefully before placing it on the dashboard. "When I get home from school, it’s going straight up on my refrigerator," she promised with a smile. (Y/n) beamed at this news. Kirby glanced at the time; if they didn’t leave now, they’d be late. “We have to go, pumpkin. Have a good day at school!” she called out as she watched (Y/n) run back into the house, waving back to the girls as she did and Jill shut the car door.

Olivia rolled her eyes from the back seat, letting out a scoff. She had something against Jill’s sister ever since she accidentally broke her cell two years ago. Olivia opened her mouth to state something when Jill quickly turned to face her, her stare cold and harsh, quickly shutting Olivia up. She huffed, “I wasn’t going to say anything about your sister!” Her arms raised in the air in defense.

Jill let a small smirk grace her lips; she could see Olivia was lying. “Really!” She turned back to the front, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. Jill wanted to see what kind of stupid story Olivia would attempt to create to dig herself out of the hole she made. “What was it you were going to say?”

Olivia stumbled over her words, desperately trying to come up with a story that would fit, but she couldn’t. “Fine!” She bowed her head in defeat. “But it’s not a crime to dislike your sister; she's just so...” She trailed off, seeing Jill's glare. “Clingy.”

The pulsating beat of a song jolted all three girls from their conversation. Jill's cellphone buzzed near her feet, prompting her to fish it out of her bag. As Olivia grumbled about the ringtone, Jill examined the caller ID.

"Why is Jenny Randall calling me?"

Both Kirby and Olivia shrugged, as Jenny wasn't someone they interacted with frequently.

"I don't know. I don't like Jenny Randall. She threw up on me at Tony Marshall's luau," Olivia interjected. Kirby rolled her eyes, and as Jill answered the phone, "That luau was freshman year!" Kirby turned to Olivia, who threw up her hands, “I didn't say my anger was rational!"

Both girls redirected their attention to Jill upon hearing her asking about the caller. Kirby returned her focus to the road, stealing glances at Jill's now irritated expression. "What does she want?" Jill ignored her friend's question, continuing to reprimand the mysterious caller. "Where’s Jenny?" Confusion deepened on the faces of Kirby and Olivia. Was Jenny Randall attempting to prank call Jill? Jill lowered the volume of the car's music. "Who is this?"

Kirby listened intently to the voice on the other end. It resonated deep and rough, like gravel on the highway. Certainly not Jenny Randall. Panic crept over Jill's face as she abruptly declared, “I’m hanging up.”

After a brief pause, Jill turned to her friends. "That was so weird. I just got a prank call from Jenny Randall." Olivia promptly interrupted with her own story, but Jill remained silent, appearing uninterested. "Jenny Randall is weird. Her and her little Marnie the Carny friend are freaks!" Glancing at Jill, who sat somewhat diminished in her seat and gazing out the window, Kirby sensed Jill might be anxious about her sister after such a peculiar call. Olivia continued to ramble on, it was very clearly not helping Jill. Kirby sighed before trying to reassure Jill.

"It's massacre week. People go looney, remember?"

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somefanficrecomendations · 1 month

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March Monthly Roundup

A belated St. Patrick’s Day, and Happy Easter if you celebrate! Sadly, I had a busy March, so this month’s rec list is short and sweet!

BATFAM Too Close to Rotting to be Alive by alicecrow6 (gen), <1k, Damian Wayne-centric, Angst The thoughts of a rotting corpse not yet placed in his grave.

pull up the ladder when the flood comes by mintchocochips (gen), 4k, Cass Cain-centric Black Bat is operating in Hong Kong. Bruce is dead. A hell of a lot of people are dead. Cass is trying her damnedest not to drown. She doesn't want anyone else to drown either. She just wants to be good. She is maybe, just maybe, not okay.

charity by Valkrin (gen), 7k, Different First Meeting, Bad Parent!Drakes The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met. Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

the picture frames have changed and so has your name by Zahri (gen), 24k, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort There’s something wrong with Dick. Tim thought everything was getting back to normal. Bruce was alive and back in their timeline, the Birds of Prey were once again operating out of Gotham, Dick had the city well under control as Batman and even Damian had been less obnoxious than usual. And then during a firefight at a warehouse by the docks, Tim was almost hit by a flying boomerang. And Dick never noticed. When something is wrong with your big brother, who else do you turn to but your big sisters?

Fatherhood for Dummies by Havendance WIP, (gen), 6k, Batman Comics, POV Jack Drake When Tim runs away to No Man's Land, it takes Jack far too long to realize that he's gone. Once he does though, he'll do anything he can to get him back.

THE WITCHER Flung to Catch a Star by inexplicifics WIP, (Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier), 63k, Accidental Warlord AU Morvran Voorhis, first-ranked prince of Nilfgaard, has been sent to Kaer Morhen on a diplomatic mission. His tasks are twofold: first, negotiate a nonaggression treaty between the wild barbarian Warlord of the North and the Nilfgaardian Empire. And second, ingratiate himself with the mysterious Warlord’s daughter and heir apparent, Princess Cirilla. Sir Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, a Vicovaran knight, has been assigned to protect young Prince Voorhis on this mission. Prince Voorhis may be the best of a bad lot, but Cahir’s still not looking forward to the threats or the temperature of a winter in the distant North. They both know their mission is a dangerous one. But they don’t know where the true danger lies…and while they know how to navigate Nilfgaard’s treacherous court, they are not prepared for Kaer Morhen. This is a mission they might not survive…and if they do, they might be changed beyond all recognition.

HARRY POTTER Three Body Problem by cabezas_de_vaca (gen), 43k, Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting To the girl with the bushy hair and the hungry mind, the Hat says RAVENCLAW; To the boy with the scar and the ask of otherwise, the Hat says SLYTHERIN; To the sixth son who has already chosen the two others, from a chance encounter on a train, the Hat says HUFFLEPUFF; and Flitwick is delighted and Sprout is intrigued and Snape is resigned, to say the least. Or: Perhaps the trio is inevitable everywhere, but in this variation, none of them are in Gryffindor, and they do their best to build things anyway.

CROSSOVER While You Were Missing by basil_coffee_and White Collar x Batman (Jason Todd/Roy Harper), 23k, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Jason!Neal A familiar redheaded child darts across the bullpen with a shout of “PAPA!” and barrels into Jason’s arms. “Lian–” He breathes. Jason's undercover work as Neal Caffrey is difficult for several reasons. He didn't anticipate that single parenting would be one of them, though.

#batfam fic rec #the witcher fic rec #white collar fic rec #batman comics fic rec #AWAU #harry potter fic rec #Cass Cain-centric #Damian Wayne-centric #POV Jack Drake #words: 0-5k #words: 5-10k #words: 20k #words: 60k #WIP #fic #words: 40k

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wafflesinthe504 · 1 year

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Staying over: The Rookie Fanfic

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Tim/ Lucy (Pre- relationship); Fluff

______________________________________________________________

“Tim, if you can right one sentence on this paper, I’ll trust you enough to make it your house without passing out.” Lucy says holding out a pen. She’s already changed out of her uniform and into a pair of dark blue jeans and bright graphic t-shirt.

“Fine.” Tim grumbles. He takes the pen and sets out to completing what should be an easy task. Instead he finds himself struggling to write straight despite the paper being lined. By the time he’s finished he finds it hard to even read over what he wrote.

Tim hears the quiet laugh that Lucy lets out when she finishes reading the short sentence.

“Tim, you spelled annoying wrong and if anyone’s the annoying one its you. Come on I’m driving you home tonight.”

“No, I have to finish up these reports before leaving.”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you Tim, but these reports will still be on the desk waiting for you tomorrow. You know once you actually get some rest after being on your sixth hour of overtime.”

When he goes to argue again Lucy holds up her hand stopping him.

“Look, anything else you write tonight is bound to be filled with multiple mistakes. So you can either let me drive you home or I can call Angela to come drag you from the station.”

The look Lucy gives him tells him that there’s no room for argument and that she’s more than willing to go through with her threat. Tim may be willing to run into gunfights and take on biker gang members, but even he doesn’t want to feel the wrath of a sleep deprived Angela.

Tim sighs as he concedes and puts his up in mock surrender. “Ok, just give me a few minutes to change and I’ll meet you at my car.” He hands her the keys as he stands up from his desk to head to the locker room.

As soon as Tim starts to change into to his civvies he can feel the weight of the day sink into his bones. Even though he hates to admit it Lucy was right. He’s in no condition to finish up any more reports tonight let alone drive home. If he’s being honest it’s a small miracle that he doesn’t pass out on his way to his car. By the time he makes it to his truck Lucy is already inside nodding her head to what is surely one of the pop radio stations.

Tim’s assumption is confirmed when he opens the door to throw his bag in before climbing in himself. He returns the soft smile that Lucy gives him once he’s seated and strapped in.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Thanks for doing this, Lucy.”

“Well, I would be a terrible sergeant’s aide and friend if I let you get into a car crash because you were too stubborn to ask for help.” Lucy jokes.

Tim lets out a soft huff of amusement, rolling his eyes. He relaxes into the seat letting the radio and Lucy’s singing roll over him. Tim can’t help but to wonder when he started feeling comfortable enough with Lucy to let his guard down completely. It was rare for Tim to feel this safe with another person, yet somehow Lucy managed to break down all of his walls and helped remind him it was okay to accept help. Even if he did still have a hard time asking for it. Tim eventually found himself drifting off thanks to the simple peace he felt by Lucy’s side.

The car slowed down to stop gently waking Tim from his sleep. “We’re here already?” He asks, his voice rough from sleep and sight blurry around the edges of his vision. He sits up in his seat in an attempt to get a better bearing of his surroundings.

“Yeah, come on. Let’s get you inside before you pass out on your driveway.”

The sound of Kojo barking greets them as they approach the front door. Kojo is barreling towards them once they step inside the house. The dog jumps on Tim before going over to Lucy and nuzzling her.

Lucy drops her bag and kneels down to Kojo to let him climb into her lap. She laughs as Kojo licks and cuddles her.

“Hey, boy I missed you too. Have you been good boy?”

Tim chuckles and shakes his head at the scene in front of him. It’s a familiar one that happens at least every other week when Lucy comes over for their regular hikes or paintball sessions.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you mind letting Kojo out and refilling his bowl?”

“Of course not. Go I’ve got this.” Lucy says waving Tim off towards his bedroom. “Come on Kojo! Let’s go out.” When she opens the door to the backyard Kojo bolts out of the house. Lucy watched as Kojo sniffed out just the right spot to do his business. She laughed as he kicked dirt and leaves after he finished.

Instead of coming right back in as Lucy expected Kojo grabbed one of his toys that had been left outside and brought it to her. Lucy took it and threw the toy a couple of times letting Kojo run after it. After a few minutes of playing Lucy and Kojo returned inside the house. Once Kojo was fed Lucy focused on getting food for her and Tim.

A look inside the fridge revealed that there weren’t any leftovers and not many ingredients that could be used to fix anything quick. Lucy sat on the couch as she placed an order on door dash for something to eat.

When Tim re-entered the living room he was dressed in a pair of sweats and a t shirt.

“Hey, are tacos good?”

“Yeah, you know what I like.” Tim says as he sits down on the couch next to Lucy turning on the tv.

“I don’t think I could forget. You practically made sure I memorized your lunch order when I was your rookie.” Lucy teased. “Anyways what are we watching?”

“We could either watch last week’s football game or catch up on Doctor Who.”

“Doctor Who please. I only watch football at parties or for the Superbowl.”

“Yet you have a lot thoughts on recruiting.”

“Really? I still stand by the fact that stats shouldn’t be the end all be all of whether or not to recruit a potential player.”

“You have a fair point. How about we agree that stats and personal attributes of a player are both important to how well the recruit will do in the pros.”

“Okay.”

Tim and Lucy settle in to watch the latest episode of Doctor Who with Tim explaining some of the major plot points that are playing out. When the food arrives Tim gets up to retrieve the food. The two of them eat relatively quietly as they are both engrossed in the action playing out before them. Tim is surprised by how quickly Lucy becomes invested in the show.

Throughout the evening Lucy and Tim end up closer to each other. With Lucy’s head resting on Tim’s shoulder and Tim pulling a blanket over them when he noticed Lucy lightly shivering.

Its not long after the most recent episode ends that Tim realizes that Lucy fell asleep. For a moment he taken aback by how relaxed Lucy looks sleeping on his shoulder. He wishes he could take a picture of her like this, a keepsake for this rare moment between them and a sign of inexplicable trust that she has shown him.

Tim realizes that he can’t really move without waking her. He finds that he doesn’t want to either. It crosses his mind that he could fall asleep on the couch but, he knows that they would both be better off sleeping in actual beds instead of crashing on his couch. Now that he finally has his guest bedroom setup Lucy doesn’t have to sleep on the couch.

Tim gently nudges Lucy. It takes a few moments before Lucy wakes up. Tim takes in the moment that Lucy realizes where and who she fell asleep on. He can’t help the quiet laugh as Lucy startles and begins to apologize profusely. Tim waves away the apologies.

“Its okay, Lucy. I don’t mind. Just thought that you would be more comfortable in an actual bed instead of crashing hear on the couch.”

“Yeah, that does sound nice. I mean your couch is nice and all but nothing beats a real bed.”

“Come on let me show you the room and where everything is at.”

Tim and Lucy head to his guest bedroom. The room itself is moderately decorated with a soft dark blue rug at the end of the bed, a flat screen tv hanging on the wall, and nightstands on either side of the bed. The bed itself is made up with light grey sheets with striped yellow comforter and matching pillows.

Lucy raises an eyebrow at Tim.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised the guest bedroom isn’t totally black or something.”

“Yeah, well you have Angela to thank for that. I let her help me decorate this room. I’ll admit I wanted the room to feel more inviting to guests than anything I could have come up with so I let Angela help steer me in the right direction. That and I knew if I came to you the room would probably look like a rainbow threw up in here.”

“It wouldn’t look like a rainbow if I decorated the room.” She says crossing her arms over her chest.

It was Tim’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

Lucy rolls her eyes, “Not all of the rainbow.” She huffs.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Anyways, you’re free to use the guest bath. Anything you need is in the middle drawer to the left. I can go grab some towels if you plan to take a shower tonight.”

“No, I’m good thanks though. Good night Tim.”

“Night Lucy. Oh and if you change your mind there’s some towels in the closet next to the bathroom.”

Lucy’s gaze lingers on Tim as he walks away. She closes the door and changes into a pair of shorts and a short sleeve shirt, both of which are large on her frame, before walking back over to the door and opening it slightly. Lucy opens the curtains just enough to let some of the moonlight in.

She makes sure to text Jackson and Tamara to let them know where she is and that she’s safe. Both of them text back with a multitude of questions, emojis, and innuendos. Lucy laughs at her friends as she texts them good night ignoring most of their questions for now. Lucy falls onto the bed thankful that she took a shower earlier at the station. She lets the soft moonlight and the low ambient noise of LA lull her to sleep. If by the next morning Lucy realizes that last night was one of the few nights where she felt safe and secure outside of her home, well no one else needs to know that for right now.

#the rookie #chenford #tim x lucy #fanfic #fluff #lucy chen #tim bradford

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coffee-prince-kyungsoo · 2 years

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My Monarch Butterfly (1/?)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: None

word count: 1.7K

summary: Eddie and reader just chatting, jason being an asshole and robin and reader talkin. Not much :)

(Gif not mine- Credits to owner @gaiath )

AN: I hope you guys enjoy the first part of this story, I don't normally write alot of FF but I couldn't help myself with Eddie Munson existing. Have you seen this man. If you like it, let me know! If you have any recs on what should happen next, be my guest to comment about it! hope you enjoy the first part!!!!

Masterlist | Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 |Part 4

Hawkins high, the most agitating place for anyone who wasn’t a popular cheerleader or basketball player was a breeding ground for the socialites to chat, bond, and even date. HHS had its little clicks and groups. You had the cheerleaders who didn’t really care for anyone outside their little friend groups, which quite frankly was getting pretty old. And of course, you had the jocks. Who quite frankly were the most annoying and obnoxious out of all the groups. Y/N on the hand was one of the only people who didn’t belong to a single group, always floating to different groups. She was what everyone called a kind soul. It didn’t matter who needed help it was always Y/N to reach out and help people. If not, others would approach the timid girl. For her it wasn’t always this easy. Being a Mexican was something that caused a lot of bullying growing up. She always lived in Hawkins but attended a school near Hawkins due to her mother being a 4th grade teacher. Her father had passed away due to cancer when she was only five. She didn’t really remember much of him but had little snippets of him and even dreamed of him. She would cry at times when she thought of her father. Because she couldn’t tell which of her memories was simply that or a dream, they all seemed to blend in. But it mostly sucked for her mother. Her mom Amanda went through a phase where she would barely speak or eat. At eleven, Y/N took care of her mother. They had been living off her dad’s life insurance for the time being after her mom was fired due to not showing up or being completely disinterested when teaching. This all stopped when a family friend got into an argument with Amanda, because of this argument, Amanda had gotten her act together. She applied to different school around their area. After multiple rejections, her last interview she was desperate that she spoke nothing but the truth. Y/N, her child was the reason she needed this job and that she needed to get her life back. The school accepted her on the spot, principal Howards understood her struggles and gave her a chance. That was in sixth grade. Now a senior and just turning eighteen she was able to finally able to semi relax, aside from final exams and deciding to stay in Hawkins or going to college.

“Y/N! Levántate por favor! ¡Se te va a hacer tarde! I won’t drop you off this time if you’re late! I swear to sweet baby Jesus you won’t being going to the mall this weekend if that’s the case! Y/N!”

“Ya voy! I’m brushing my teeth!”

“No me conteste así! Apúrate”

The door slammed shut as Y/N’s mom rushed to her car, her engine could be heard throughout the whole street.

“Jesus, she needs a goddamn exorcist.” Y/N giggled as she was packing up her things getting ready to head out the door.

“I didn’t even answer in a bad way, she wasn’t even gonna hear me in the bathroom with that loud ass vent, right Leo.” Y/N rubbed her cat’s fur and gave him a peck in-between his green eyes. To which he purred.

As she started to bike her way to school, she listened to some classical music. It was something she did know her dad loved; he would often put her to sleep with some Vivaldi, his all time favorite. She was pushed with a gust of wind from a van barreling towards the prison that kept most of Hawkins for four years. It was a hard world. The van was blaring black sabbath, she knew all too well who drove the van, Eddie Munson. She wasn’t going to lie; she did have a small crush on him since middle school. But always pushed those fantasies to the back of her mind due to the age and grade gap. Now it changed when Eddie was help back not once, but twice. She would sometimes dream of him, both being in an embrace or just simply enjoying each other’s company. But she was just being silly.

Eddie was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, simply enjoying his alone time before being berated in the halls of Hawkins high. It didn’t bother him anymore but still, who wanted to hear insults being thrown at them early in the morning. As he was speeding through the almost empty roads, he spotted Y/N on her bicycle with her Walkman. As he sped, he looked at her through the rearview mirror, she had a little smile. Seemed like she was enjoying her alone time as well. Eddie would always see her in the halls. She was always so quiet, seemed to never be late to any class, never spoke in class unless someone asked for help, or if the teacher needed her to answer a problem on the board. Eddie had always thought she was cute. He would never admit it, but he did. Growing up he would see her around the town. He knew her dad passed away. He felt sorry, he knew what it was like to not have your father present. He at least had his uncle Wayne, his father figure, but from what he knew, she didn’t.

You didn’t know when you got on school grounds. You guess it was just muscle memory and the lack of attention you pay when you’re on your way to school. As you got off and started to walk to the bike rack you noticed smoke coming out of Eddie’s car, which wasn’t parked far from where the staff stood. You don’t know how you were able to keep your heart from coming out of your chest but some how you did, it was a complete mystery to you. Three knocks on Eddie’s van window was all it took for Eddie to acknowledge you.

“Hi, just wanted to let you know that the staff is out today and it’s pretty clear that you’re smoking. Just a little heads up.” After a little pause Eddie smiled in your direction. With the number of butterflies fluttering in your body you were surprised you didn’t float off.

“Thanks Y/N, can’t have any write-ups before graduation, can I?” With a simple nod, you walked off to your first class.

“Thanks Y/N, can’t have any write-ups...” God, that was the best I could come up with. Jesus Eds.”

Eddie mocked his response as he lowered his head on the steering wheel. Eddie had gotten his things ready and walked off to class before the first bell.

Eddie walked into his first class of the day, one of the only classes he didn’t have with Y/N.

“Thank you for joining us this fine morning Munson.” Sighed Ms. Wilks.

“Of course your grace, my chariot seemed to be on the slow side today.” Eddie bowed with his arm extended out.

“Obviously, have you seen the piece of junk you drive you freak.”

“Jason…. How does it feel to touch balls all day?”

“Boys enough, or the both of you will stay for detention, Munson to your seat.”

The room seemed to be filled with snickers after the little scene both boys caused.

“Please turn to pag-“

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Johnson wanted me to hand you these papers Ms. Wilks.” Y/N softly spoke after knocking and interrupting Wilks.

“Thank you, can you please set them down in the basket at the back of class please. Okay class, turn to page 36 of the work book and answer..”

As Ms. Wilks continued to give instructions Y/N walked to the back of class to drop the papers in the basket, the basket that was right behind Eddie.

“Hi Y/N, guess today’s your lucky day, you get to see a whole lot of me.”

Y/N lowered her head down and let out a soft giggle.

“Pay attention Eddie, can’t have you getting any write-ups, can we?”

Eddie continued to watch her as she did what she was told. Not aware of a certain pair of eyes looking at the whole interaction.

“Munson, pay attention.”

“Yup no issue Wilks.”

‘Oh my lord baby Jesus, his smile is to die for!’ was all you could think! As you made your way out the class and headed back to your own lecture a small wave made its way to Eddie. The boy couldn’t help but let out a wide grin. You swear on everything you love that this crush was something but puppy love, you didn’t think he could be interested in you, there was no way.

“Thank you for leaving the papers Y/N”

“It’s really nothing sir.” You made your way back to your seat, next to the only person in the school who you could consider to be your only friend. Robin.

“You look…. I don’t know, you just look like you’re happy, but also in a deep thought. Care to share?”

“It’s Eddie, recently we’ve been crossing paths and talking more frequently. For example, when we were at the market, he just came up and started talking to me. We stayed in the same two isles for over an hour, I guess my butterflies are acting up. It’s stupid but- it’s nothing, it’s not like he could be interested in me. Truly I’m just speaking out of craziness.”

“Well, my sweet little sugar plum, you never know. I mean when was the last time anyone was ever approached to have a friendly conversation with Munson, aside from being recruited into hellfire. I’m not gonna say he likes you; I don’t want you to get over excited over something just for me to be wrong, you know? But it doesn’t hurt to keep talking to him.”

“I know, but knowing me, I’ll start to get over attached and get my heart broken over something that would never happen. Plus, maybe he just needs a friend. Not saying his other friends are bad but- I don’t know. I just hate how everyone is so mean to him. He doesn’t deserve that. No one does. Maybe Jason and his pack of idiots and their rude girlfriends, but still, I just wish they weren’t so mean to him. He’s really sweet, well from when we were talking.”

These little heart to hearts was something normal between you two. It was a good thing this was the only time robin knew how to whisper without having the whole class listen in to the whole conversation. It was easy for Y/N but maybe she’ll learn to be outspoken, it was all Robin tried to do after being in a friendship with this girl for years.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x mexican reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction

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boxwinebaddie · 9 months

Text

ok i am salty that i had to cut my favorite flashback out of pep 13 because it was too long already, so if you want it, here is sweet sixth grade stan marsh saves the corner store ( next the world! )

depression tw gun tw ( i think that’s it )

Raj remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was flanked on all sides by broken glass with the brick they’d used to break his store window taunting him at his feet. Dented cans and busted bottles piled around the store, lifeless like bodies…as lifeless as his eyes were when he took the excruciating death march back to the cash register that had been raided by reckless, rabid, rabble rousing high school boys.

…Everything was gone down to the penny…including his wedding band.

The only thing in that heap of shit that had true value to the shopkeeper.

They’d left his drawer untouched. How very kind of them. Where next to a picture of his slaughtered family lay the very thing that slaughtered them. To protect the store. Which was no more. As he held it in his hands, though he wasn’t a particularly funny man, he humored a dark thought as he took off the safety, lifted it to his temple, ready to meet his family and his maker

When…

Ding-Dong!

“CAN’T YOU READ? THE SIGN SAYS WE’RE CLOSE— ”

“Oof. Not very well, unfortunately.”

The voice had admitted sheepishly.

“My teacher said I have to take remedial English next semester…But! Oh! I’m sorry, sir! I had no idea. I was just riding my bike home when I heard a commotion, so I wanted to make sure that everything was alrig—“

Gulp.

Raj had frozen in fear because a pair of…alarmingly large eyes the color of sapphires were staring down the barrel of his gun. The preteen had dark hair and a small white scar just above his left eyebrow. He was wearing a boy scout uniform and a little green bracelet that had been woven with great skill and gentle care…one that…Raj feared he’d have to be b u r i e d with.

The strange boy opened his mouth slowly.

And for a second, he was a little worried the kid might scream and the cops would come running. After all, a middle aged, brown shopkeeper holding…a defenseless, mostly white he presumed, the kid was kind of racially ambiguous, middle school boy…at gunpoint wasn’t the best look.

…But he just sighed in relief, looking totally elated.

“W h e w! Thank god. You know, I was totally going to flunk my math test tomorrow.”

Raj was dumbstruck.

What…the fuck? Was this kid forreal? If he was then he wasn’t very good at school or pleading for his life, evidently.

“ — But, uh, ‘scuse me, Mister? I don’t mean to be inconvenient or anything; I’m not really sure how these things work or if you get one phone call like when they put you in jail…But would you mind waiting a second so I can call my mom?”

I don’t mean to be…inconvenient? He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. The boy digressed.

“This isn’t one of those ‘You let me call my Mom, but I actually call the police’ type of things, I swear. I’m a Boy Scout and Boy Scouts never lie!” He pointed to his sash with a big, proud grin.

“It’s just…It’s Lasagna Night, sir, and if she knows I won’t be there, she won’t have to make the meatless one with the vegan cheese in it that she makes special just for me. It’ll…It’ll save her a lot of time and trouble. Please?”

Then the kid shot the shopkeeper with a fake, nervous finger gun, which was a very stupid thing to do when someone was pointing a very real, loaded gun at you, but his humility and candidness had completely disarmed the man with the firearm.

Figuratively and Literally.

— Because Raj had stopped pointing the gun at Stan — he had, however, started sobbing hideously and piteously into his sleeve, to which most people would get uncomfortable or start to freak out, unsure of how to navigate such a strange, sullen and…snotty human emotion. But Not Stan. No. Never Stan. Who had thrown a hand over his shirt pocket in faux surprise and breezed a beautiful, pleasant laugh which was closely followed by the comic relief went with saying,

“Oh man, I always knew I was ugly, but I didn’t know I was t h a t ugly!”

Shortly after, Raj wordlessly watched as out of the goodness of his heart, the strange child knelt down on the dirty, dusty floor of the store and started picking up huge shards of glass…

…with his bare hands.

“Here, I’ll help you. Trust me, this is nothing.” He lowered his voice, wincing.

“You should see my room.”

To which Stan started helping the older man spruce up his store, setting things back on shelves, sweeping, singing along to songs that he put on his Spotify playlist…until the place was spotless.

Devraj Vishwakumar could tell exactly what type of person Stanley Marsh was by the things he had placed on the hard plastic check out counter.

A bag of treats for his dog, Sparky,

A pack of cigarillos for his father ( Stan had told Raj that he personally didn’t endorse smoking or anything that harmed human beings or the planet, but he had also said he didn’t really have a choice in the matter and didn’t breathe a word more about it after that ),

— A large bag of sour gummy worms, a medium sized Fresa and a small bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies for his very dear, but ‘annoying’ ‘super’ ( genius ) best friend who had diabetes but was too stubborn to monitor his sugar intake,

A Home and Garden magazine for the little old lady who lived down the street, but had a hard time walking to the store on account of her multiple sclerosis,

And two bouquets of flowers, one of which was for his mother, who he loved very much.

In assessing the amalgamation of things on the counter, Raj’s brow furrowed. For His Mysterious, Middle School Boy Scout Benefactor had bought something for everyone

…everyone but himself.

He’d remembered asking the helpful preteen if he wanted to get himself anything at all from the store and that if he did, of course, it was on the house like everything else was for saving the shop and his life, but Stan simply shook his head, shrugging earnestly and effervescently.

“Getting stuff for other people makes me happy. Buying stuff for myself makes me feel ‘weird’ and really, I have everything I could possibly want! I live in a nice house. I have a family who have their ups and downs, but at the end of the day, are mine. I have lots of friends who, for the most part, care a lot about me, even if some of them have a funny way of showing it.”

“I…I live a good life, sir. What more could I possibly need?”

He’d proclaimed with the biggest smile on his face, but if one listened closely, there was the smallest hitch in his lovely, singsong voice, a note of sad, stinging pain that he hadn’t quite swallowed back in time, trapped behind his teeth. See, the boy with the big, kind, sky blue eyes hadn’t bought anything that day because he wanted something that Raj couldn’t sell him.

Stanley Marsh wanted desperately to be happy.

And unfortunately, money could not buy happiness.

Attempting to change the subject, the shopkeeper had asked if the other bouquet was for the boy’s girlfriend, to which Stan had cringed visibly, looking a little embarrassed. “She broke up with me a couple days ago..”

“I guess it was our anniversary. I forgot…Not my brightest and shiniest moment as a boyfriend. And don’t get me wrong, she’s totally the best and I miss her to death already…but Mister, you reeeeally gotta give her a cool down period before you try barking up that tree again. Trust me.”

Now, while forgetting you and your girlfriend’s anniversary, the store keeper reasoned, would have been a very compelling reason for anyone else’s girlfriend to break up with them, Stan had explained offhandedly to Raj that he and his ex-girlfriend, soon to be current girlfriend again, Wendy Testaburger had broken up over twelve times since they were eight, so the date of their anniversary changed almost every year. It was getting hard for him to keep track. Poor kid.

The second bouquet, Stan had clarified, was not for someone who was special in Stan’s life, but for someone who was special in the life of the convenience store clerk.

“For your wife.” Stan’d said with a flash of white teeth. Raj shook his head. “Your husband?” He offered. No such luck. “Your boyfriend? Girlfriend?” His smile faltered at the uncomfortable silence. “Children?” The silence deepened and deafened. But Stan filled it. He held the bouquet out to the disgruntled man with a goofy grin. “For you, then.” He winked and Raj laughed.

The stony-eyed shopkeeper was not a man who usually opened up, but he felt safe with the young stranger, whose kind and wholesome spirit reminded him so much of his lost son.

Speaking of…

“I lost everything. All I have is the store.” He admitted morosely. “Other than that I have nothing. I have nobody.”

To which Stan held his palm up as if to say ‘hold on a second’, before he had zipped! over to the freezer section and slapped something down on the counter enthusiastically. He gaped unwittingly at the old man, hand on his hip, like he was being totally unreasonable. It was so theatrical and cartoonish due to the dilation of the boy’s eyes that it was almost comical to Raj.

“That’s so not true!” He protested playfully. “You have me…”

Stan gestured to the item he had placed on the counter with a dramatic flourish.

“...And Ben and Jerry. See, that’s three people!”

Ice Cream.

Stan had placed a tub of ice cream on the corner store counter.

Now, Stan didn’t really like sweet things — he was sweet enough as it was — but he’d always made an exception for p e p p e r m i n t which cooled his mouth down, but also made him feel like he was breathing fire.

Mint chocolate chip was his favorite because it made his lips tingle and always numbed the pain. It was also his favorite color. Green. Like his super best friend’s eyes. And just as outwardly cold, but internally comforting.

With that in mind, he’d offered a kind, listening ear to Devraj, who owned the corner store and several secret solitary sadnesses — as well as a slightly bent, kind of sticky, plastic Taco Bell spork so he could eat his feelings. It was pretty gross, but terribly touching.

His unlikely boy-hero had thoughtfully and patiently attended to Raj as he relayed his tale of woe. His humble beginnings in India, his opportunistic trip to America which had soured when tragedy struck and his wife Jiya and his son Kiran, who was about Stan’s age, were violently murdered in a robbery just days before Raj had pooled the store’s entire savings into buying their plane tickets. He’d told Stan the shop had fallen into debt…and now victim to thieves…but that he was very relieved and grateful that Stan had stumbled upon his store and saved the day.

That, again, speaking of, the man had ended by saying…

“Hey kid, I didn’t catch your name.”

The ‘kid’ in question perked up, laughing a little.

He’d told Raj he could be pretty forgetful sometimes.

“Oh! It’s Stan. Stan Marsh. Well, Stanley, I guess, if you’re feeling formal, which, please don’t. You’ll make me nervous! Haha. Uh, Marsh, comma, Stanley when we're taking attendance or if you’re super fucking — sorry — super freaking OCD like Kyle Pile is. Stanley Randall William Marsh on my birth certificate or if my mom is really mad at me — I’m super late, so that's what the flowers are for — but my Dad is kind of a tool, so if it were my choice, I’d be Stanley William Nakumura Kimble which is my grandpa’s first name, Sobo Mimi’s maiden name, that’s my grandmother, and my Mom’s maiden name,

But…Just Stan to my friends.”

“You can call me S t a n.”

He’d raised a fist up for Raj to bump.

“But wait! Before I go: I want to give you something.”

Raj squinted as he spoke.

“There’s this thing my super best friend and I always tell each other when we're feeling low and life isn’t going the way we want it to. It always helps me feel better when I’m feeling sad and, well, I—I thought it might help you too.”

The boy’s voice was whimsical and wonderful.

“From all the pain you that you feel,

All the suffering you have endured,

And all the hardship you will face in this lifetime and the next…

Past, Present or Future.

Mr. Vishwakumar,

I hope you h e a l.”

With that, the selfless and kindhearted boy had done something quite unexpected. He’d reached across the counter and wrapped the troubled old man running the store in a gentle, but tender embrace, then drew a small, thoughtful heart on the back of his shoulder blade with his finger.

That was ‘Stan’.

However…This was surely NOT the thoughtful boy, the prize of their neighborhood, who had come in the very next day beaming bright as he returned Raj’s stolen ring. That day the man manning the helm of the corner store had cautiously asked him if he had done something bad to get it back to which Stan had told him that he’d just threatened to tell the high schooler’s moms and they fessed up to everything. He hadn’t even lifted a finger. He was into nonviolence.

He’d said:

“I’ve found that when you speak softly people have to listen closer to what you’re saying plus…” He winked. “I hate yelling, don’t you?”

This could not be the same boy who had pawned his PS3 to get Raj’s ring out of the pawn shop then started a GoFundMe and school wide fundraiser to ‘Save the Corner Store’...which he did in fact, save the store…twice. And every single day he came through that door.

He was Raj’s saving grace.

That was the sweet, soft, special Stanley Marsh…who was like a son to him.

But the boy behind the counter was a stranger.

#flashback #I LOVED THIS FLASHBACK I WAS MAD #ALSO STAN IS SO CUTE AND SO UNSERIOUS WITH HIS LIFE HES MY ANGEL BOY #LIKE GENUINELY SO KIND AND GOOD SORRY I KEEP NERFING U BABY

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nicholas-wolfwood · 8 months

Text

He’d been watching the man from the moment he entered the bar. The leader of some gang, most likely. Tall. Strong. Not too bad-looking. He was known for his womanizing ways, ruthless manner, and was respected by his men.

And he’d shot Vash.

Whether he’d been after the old bounty, some personal grievance, or just trying to make a name for himself, they didn’t know, but the gang leader had opened fire on the Humanoid Typhoon once he’d recognized him in the street. Not an unusual occurrence, Vash would shriek as if he were frightened while effortlessly dodging the shots his way until the attackers ran out of bullets or the Sheriff showed up to see what the ruckus was about. This time, however, there had been civilians in the crossfire, and the man used them to his advantage. Knowing Vash would dive in the way, he’d fired on an older couple too slow to flee, and Vash- that idiot- had flung himself in the line of fire. He was in the hospital now, and while Wolfwood knew that idiot would be fine (he’s had worse injuries than that before), there was still some business he had to attend to.

Rising to his feet, the priest made his way up to the bar, on the other end as his target, signaling to the bartender for another whiskey. He heard muttering coming from the far end. Good. He’d gotten his attention. Halfway through his drink, the shooter approached him.

“Hey. I recognize you. Weren’t you in the square durin’ that fiasco this morning?” He wasn’t wrong, Wolfwood had been further back in the crowd, not trusting himself to intervene. He knew he’d likely kill the man, and get yelled at by Vash for it later. But Vash wasn’t here right now.

“I was, yeah. Surprised you can tell.” He leaned back on his bar stool, giving the gang leader a once-over. He was taller than him, that’s for sure. Probably consider himself stronger, too. Heh, wasn’t he in for a surprise... “Quite the mess, heard you were goin’ toe-to-toe with the Humanoid Typhoon himself. Takes some skill to do that.”

“That’s right!” The gang leader’s chest swelled with pride as he took the seat next to him, his buddies remaining on the far end of the bar once it was clear their boss wasn’t about to start a fight. “Recognized the outfit. Not to mention that big ol’ cross of yours.” He nodded to where the Punisher was leaning propped up against the wall. “It’s kinda hard to miss. Anyways, looks like the legendary outlaw was no match for the likes of me! It’s just a shame the Sheriff showed up or I’d of finished him right there!” He didn’t notice the ‘priest’s’ hand tighten on his glass.

“Well if that’s the case, why not a round to celebrate yer near-victory.”

Wolfwood spent the next twenty minutes or so fluffing the man’s ego, easily goading him into round after round of drinking until the man could barely sit up straight. He’d caught the hint of interest in the boss’ eyes, fueled further by the drinks. After the sixth round, Nicholas had gotten up, announcing he was headed out back to ‘stretch his legs’. As he passed the bar, he could hear the gang leader following behind him, telling his buddies he’d be a few minutes.

Once the drunken fool got out back, however, a swift blow to the throat had him on his knees, gasping for air before he could even comprehend what hit him. Another hit to the small of his back had him reeling, looking up from the dirt to stare down the barrel of a gun.

Wolfwood’s aim remained steady as the gang leader choked and wheezed, likely attempting to call his men or plead for his life. Piece of shit. He hadn’t cared about the lives of those he put in danger with his little stunt, he likely wouldn’t care when he goes to the next town and kills more people. The world was better off without men like him; besides, he’d forfeited the right to live the moment he’d turned his gun on the man he’d been ordered to protect. He pulled the hammer back, ready to fire.

‘Thou shalt not kill, remember?! What kinda churchman are you, anyways?!’

“Dammit, Spikey, get outta my head!” Nick growled under his breath, shaking his head as if it’d dislodge any second thoughts. He was a top member of the Eye of Michael, dammit! A Gung Ho Gun! He’s killed men for lesser crimes than this, and he’s done so without a second thought, so why was he hesitating now!?

It was his job to protect Vash from pieces of shit like this. Not only that, he wanted to protect Vash from pieces of shit like this! Dammit, ever since that blond-haired bimbo crashed into his life, nothing made sense anymore!

He was one of Knives’ pawns. He was Vash’s friend. He’d been raised to kill, knew it was the best way to keep fuckers like this from attacking his charge again, simple as that! But he remembered Vash’s face that day with Rai-Dei...

“.........” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get that idiot’s annoying voice out of his head, those disapproving eyes that pierced right through his soul, judging him for all his crimes in the past... But beyond that, he didn’t want to see that look of pain and anger directed at him again. Not until the day finally comes where he has to betray Vash to his brother, at least...

That said, he couldn’t just let someone like this go on his merry way, could he? After all, the only rule was ‘thou shalt not kill’~!

......

“Early this morning, a man identified as Gregory Mason, the leader of the Mason Moonriders gang, was discovered in an alley behind a bar with all four limbs broken. He claims he was too drunk to remember what happened, and is currently undergoing care at the local hospital. The perpetrator has not been found, but police suspect rival gang activity.” Vash frowned, looking up from the morning newspaper delivered to his hospital bed. He gave the priest by the window a look. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you, Wolfwood?”

“Nope.” The priest innocently sipped at his coffee. “Not a clue.”

#random old drabble #v: maximum #doesn't apply to anything #in the queue

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magicandjuliet · 2 months

Text

Father, Mother, Son

Twenty-six hours of labor.

Without intermission, without Suzume being able to rest, without anyone being able to quell the rage that had begun to emanate from her at the beginning of the twenty-sixth hour of labor, which had begun in the late evening of the day before.

October 24, 2031, at precisely midnight, Suzume Munakata had staggered to her husband and told him in a tone so soft it reminded him of a torrent, "I think my water broke."

Hell had risen to the ground in less than a second : in a very quick succession, Souta had grabbed the suitcases they had been keeping ready for days, loading them all on his shoulder without hesitation and darting from one side of the house to the other like a madman.

"The cell phone! Where's the cell phone?!" Souta hollered as he rampaged through the house, his hair - previously put up in a ponytail- was now wild and dishevelled.

"It's here, Souta."

"Wha-?!"

"Here! You left it in charge!"

Souta had barreled into the room again. "What are you doing on the bed?! We need to get going!!"

"But I'm fine-!"

"Your water broke!!" Souta screeched, fumbling in the fridge to get water bottles…way too many water bottles. "How is that fine?! We gotta go to the hospital, now!"

Seriously, how many bottles did a pregnant woman need?

Souta had been serially accumulating everything since the beginning of her pregnancy, but Suzume had been pretty sure he had no idea what to do with half of it.

She had raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're not the one who's giving birth?"

Through it all, Suzume could only sit on the bed and watch her husband's level of insanity rise minute by minute, second by second.

It had been five minutes after the Munakatas had finally managed to get into the car to drive to the hospital-despite the fact that she had been nowhere near active labor, Souta was acting as if the baby was about to come out at that very moment.

She had made him stop the car on the side of the road to explain that she was not yet feeling contractions, and more importantly to tell him that he needed to calm down if he did not want to risk passing out in the delivery room.

It had been the most exhausting twenty-six hours of their lives. More grueling than the adventure that had introduced them to each other all those years before, more grueling than being turned into a chair...oh, thank goodness he was human again!

There would have been no way for Suzume to go through labor without being able to break his hand....

As she had been doing all along, after all. But Souta, kneeling beside her on the hospital bed, had not complained either over losing feeling in his knees or that after the baby was born there would be a need to call a radiologist to see that indeed his hand was broken in two.

And at five o'clock in the morning, the cry of a new life had filled the small hospital room, and Suzume, his beautiful but exhausted Suzume, had fallen backwards on the mountain of pillows behind her, panting and crying together. And the doctor had placed on her chest a tiny being covered in blood, red and still attached to its mother by the umbilical cord.

A stirring of emotions of extraordinary power had awakened in Souta, who only then had found the strength to hoist himself up from the bent position he had assumed to hold a leg for Suzume-any kind of comfort during childbirth is essential. Holding her hands, her legs, and being there present one and all...although -Souta would never admit it- but he had felt faint several times during the hours Suzume had spent pushing. The sight of all that blood, not having eaten anything, and the tension of the moment had played tricks on him….

But he had relieved himself and slid a hand to the back of Suzume's head, which tilted in his touch, nose to nose.

"It's a boy." The doctor had said, as he stimulated the infant with a clean blanket. Before long, disgruntled screams filled the room, and Suzume took to crying even louder, holding the infant firmly against her chest.

"Souta..." She murmured. "Our baby…it's our baby…"

Souta wiped away her tears with his thumbs, resting his forehead against hers. "Hey, Mama."

Suzume made a sound somewhere between sobbing and laughing. "Hey, Papa…"

He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all his might, with all the love floating in his body…His joy was so powerful, so unbridled.

He had never felt anything quite like it.

While the doctors were busy cutting the umbilical cord and cleaning the baby, Souta watched carefully : was his paternal instinct already kicking in?

The baby was not even three minutes old, and Souta could already feel his own muscles jarring to have him in his arms.

"Okay Dad, now it's your turn." It was the nurse's voice that had brought him out of the state he was in : Shinobu had been properly cleaned, a tiny woolen cap had been placed on his little head - was the soft spot still open? The infant was wrapped in a pretty blue blanket, and the way she held him made it look so...natural.

But the young father quivered at the idea of holding him.

Oh. He was so small. So fragile, and he was so big.

It could have broken some of his little bones for sure-oh no, what if he slipped?

His arms were made for pushing doors shut, they were made for carrying insurmountable weights, they were made for hugging, his hands only knew how to handle keys...and if up to that point he had thought a wooden contraption was the most delicate thing he had ever handled, when the nurse put his son in his arms he realized it was a whole different kettle of fish.

Shinobu was no bigger than his forearm, a tiny, full head of dark hair hidden under a blue cap rested in the crook of Souta's arm, the rest of that tiny body greeted by soft swaddling was gathered and resting on his father's hand

And it alone was huge in comparison to the infant.

Suzume had collapsed into a deep slumber as soon as the stitches had been placed. His wife had resisted sleeping at first, afraid that Shin might need something and she would not be able to hear him cry.

But Souta had reassured her that he would wake up in case the baby needed anything.

He had spent time observing his son's facial features...and could confirm after almost an hour without taking his eyes off him that Shinobu Munakata was the most beautiful, precious, and special thing he had ever held. More precious than any key, more powerful than any shockwave he had ever felt, and more devastating than being turned into a chair. More terrifying than having been on the verge of ceasing to exist, on the brink of an irretrievable abyss...at the bottom of a barrel from which he had held never to rise again.

Of never again feeling the warmth of the summer sun on his skin, of never again seeing a sunrise, of never again being moved by a sunset.... To never again hear Suzume's voice.

Instead, like sunlight breaking through snow, Suzume had given him her hands. She had melted the ice in his heart, pieces of crystal the size of tears that had clung to his skin. The warmth he had felt on his skin when she had opened that door....

I want to live.

I want to live!!!

And Suzume wanted to live together with him.

She had given him her hand, and firmly pulled him to her.

He had returned to feeling the warmth of life in the blink of an eye.

And his hand had never left hers. And now, the same hands that had saved each other from a taken-for-granted end held tightly to something more precious than he could ever have thought.

Shinobu was quiet, a silent and peaceful child.... As if he had cried only to reassure his parents that he was alive and healthy, and then he must have fallen asleep on contact with the warm water of the bath that had been prepared for him to cleanse him of blood. He had spent those nine months informing himself and reading, and had read that newborns could be comforted by a few little pats on the bottom intent on reminding the little one of the mother's heartbeat and soothing them. Another way was to wrap them tightly in swaddling clothes. So it was likely that their son had fallen asleep in a daze...after all, labor is difficult for both mother and baby...and it had not been an easy labor, despite everything Souta had read in those months to try and make the delivery easy.

Exercise ball, foods that contained iron and fiber, taking walks...it had even crossed Souta's mind to engage in acupuncture....

It had taken the last ultrasound before delivery to reassure him that the baby was healthy.

And labor had been a tremendous experience anyway. Suzume had started the contractions calmly, reassuring her husband that she was fine and wanted to keep moving...and then gradually the situation had worsened.

Soon they had reached such an intense peak that she could not even speak, only squeeze with demolishing force her husband's poor hand, which she could only massage where it hurt, hold her hand and feed her ice chips.

All that had come back to him were the months before– He had been sitting grading his pupils' class assignments when she had hugged him from behind and turned him toward her, then taken his face in her hands. "I have something for you."

"Oh?" He had raised an eyebrow, watching her slip out of his arms to fetch something from the bathroom. "Close your eyes!" She chirped. "It's a surprise!"

Chuckling softly, he had reclined in his chair and waited until Suzume's footsteps suggested that she had returned. "Okay...open your hands."

He obeyed, and his wife had placed something like a thermometer in his hand.

Souta had frowned. "...Did you get sick?"

"For another reason. Okay! Can you guess what it is?"

Souta had chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "...I give up, what is it?"

"Then go ahead and open your eyes~"

In Souta's hands, a rose-colored stick sat impassively.

How had he mistaken it for a thermometer? The shape was crystal clear--outlined by a straight, curvy shape.

It was a pregnancy test.

And it was positive.

Souta's eyes widened, staring at the small object with.... surprise? He did not know how, but what was stirring in his chest was something deeper than mere surprise.

"Suzume..." He had said, looking at the two lines as if they were two paintings. Her smaller hands cupped his.

"Are you...?"

She had nodded, that black hair she loved more than anything else in the world bounced loose on her shoulders. "Look." She said, tapping a fingernail on the small screen of the pregnancy test :

Pregnant. Three weeks. The writing was crystal clear.

Souta felt a thousand emotions at the same moment : joy, confusion, fear, emotion.

He lifted his eyes with exasperating slowness toward her. "we're having a baby…?"

Suzume had nodded, and tears had formed at the sides of her eyes. "Yes, Souta."

He had fallen from his chair, kneeling before her. He had embraced her from the waist, pulling her to him with a series of kisses overflowing with tears of joy. I love you murmured through his lips....

His students did not have their classwork back for two weeks..

Suzume had been asleep all morning long, and Souta had made it his mission to keep an eye on his wife and son.

At one point in the morning he too had had to put Shin down in the crib next to Suzume's bed, but keeping a finger in so that his son could pick him up in case of a nightmare.

The baby had wiggled a few times, but nothing too constant and repeated. A few sounds to let his father know he was okay, occasionally he felt a little finger catch his index finger...but nothing as disastrous as the experienced parents they had met on the street had told him it would be.

In nurse entered at about eight o'clock. "Sir, visiting hours are about to open." He said with a respectful bow. "A checkup will be done on your wife in a little while, would you like to give baby Munakata to me?"

Instinctively, Souta clasped his hands around the crib. "No, I thank you. I prefer him to stay here."

His skin tingled at even the thought of having Shin away from him for more than five minutes, and he was not the one who had carried him inside him for nine months as Suzume had.

"So… it's time to feed him, this little guy will be hungry." Said the woman. "I can show you how to do it, if you want."

Apparently, Souta noted, there were several ways of holding a child while feeding them of which he was unaware...and after the nurse listed them all for him, he decided to go on the one he knew best.

He placed his son on his forearm in a semi-vertical position and then gently brought the bottle with milk close to Shin's lips.

"Why isn't he latching?"

The nurse, with a gentle smile, explained. "It's normal, he must first understand that there is milk coming out of there."

It took a couple of tries and soft encouragement from the new father for Shinobu to open his lips and begin sucking from the spout of the bottle fiercely, Souta laughed instinctively. "So hungry..." He said.

As if his mother had not fed him the strangest cravings during those nine months...anything and everything.

Starting from noodles topped with mayonnaise and salmon ending with beet onigiri and ketchup, Souta could say he had seen it all in terms of food.

Shin drank like a drunkman, and then went into what he described himself as...milk coma.

It had caused a not inconsiderable dose of panic in Souta, dampened only when the nurse had burst out laughing and told him it was normal. It was almost on a par with a hangover, it seemed.

Souta had cast a glance at his son. You better not become a drunkard, young man.

Suzume had awakened only at lunchtime, turning onto her side and straining Souta's hand. "Hey..."

Her husband had immediately kissed her forehead, taking her hand in his. "Good morning, sleeping beauty...how are you feeling?"

"A little groggy and sore...but otherwise fine." She said, pulling herself to sit up. She still looked tired, but It was muffled slightly by the hours of sleep. "How about you? Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. Don't worry." He said, shifting to allow her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Shin is sleeping."

"Has he been good?"

"An exemplary baby, he hasn't cried once."

Suzume chuckled against his shoulder softly. "Like father, like son."

Souta stroked her head. "Thank you, Suzume."

She blinked. "For what, silly?"

Tears burned in his eyes, so he instinctively hid his face in her hair. "For giving me the greatest gift in the world. Thank you for this life, thank you for loving me, thank you for our son. Thank you for existing."

And Suzume -- his beautiful, tired, brave Suzume -- gently squeezed his hand. "Hey, you're the one who entered my life first."

Souta kissed the top of her head. "But you're the one who improved my life." He said softly, taking her hand and caressing her mouth with his thumb. "You are my life, both of you."

"Stop it, come on...you know my hormones are raging!" Chuckled Suzume amid tears that threatened to fall.

And with them, Souta's heart was ten times bigger.

Ten times fuller.

Shinobu was brought to his mother after a few minutes, and as soon as he was in Suzume's arms she began to coo sweet words of greeting to him, cradling him perfectly in her own arms. Those arms that had saved Souta, those arms that had held him when he was a chair, and those same arms were now holding the fruit of their love.

Their firstborn son.

Shinobu Munakata would become an extraordinary man.

With two parents like Munakata Souta and Munakata Suzume, how could he not be?

#suzume no tojimari #iwato suzume #fanfiction #anime fanfic

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caspers-multifandom · 10 months

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Runaway Damsel | Monster!AU

AN: Righty O! First little idea that I had for a world full of our beloved 141 boys and their monstery goodness. Now they aren't fully monsters, they're part of what are Enhanced - people who were born with mutations (kinda sounds like x-men, I'll work on it :]) Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1,747

Summary: Cass is the human transfer into the 141 taskforce. How well is she going to be within the team?

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Cass panted as she bolted up the stairwell; her heels were long forgotten on the sixth floor as she bounded up the stairs bare foot. She clutched onto the handgun as she aimed to the door opening just as she reached the thirteenth floor and shot the armed man before he could recognise her standing there.

She immediately took off up the stairs, no time to waste as she heard multiple men shouting as they ran up after her. She had thanked the stars for the head start she had on them all after Soap had all but tore apart the men that had cornered her in the lobby. He had only half turned and used his claws and fangs to help fight their way through before he left her to run up the flights of stairs to the roof.

She had thought this would be an easy extraction, go into the charity event disguised as another simple patron, meet the informate, get the drive of evidence of extremist activities and get out of there. But something just had to go wrong. Luckily these things were planned for and she had Soap as back up after he was uncover as a waiter. After the informate had been shot through the window from a rooftop across the street, Cass had made sure to secure the drive as the event became chaos. She had made it out to the lobby before she’d been cornered by several extremists with their rifles at the ready. Soap came barreling through and had yelled for her to get to the extraction.

Now she was running as fast as her worn out legs would let her. She really needs to up her obstacle course training. Ghost and Gaz were outside covering the innocents from getting mowed down by extremist forces on rooftops and on the streets. Price was on the way in the halo to the extraction point but Cass knew that he was most likely chewing himself out for not being closer.

“Simon get down to Cass, get her to the roof, move!” Price demanded over the comms.

“On it.” The gravelly tone of Ghost’s tone crackled through the comms and Cass knew what to look out for.

She reached the floor just below the roof access, her legs burning and lungs heaving from the many stairs she’d climbed before she heard the echoing roar coming from below. She looked over the rail and caught a glance of brown fur before two men went flying over the rail and fell to the ground floor – Cass looked away before she could see their heads crack against the solid concrete.

“Soap’s shifted, repeat Johnny is enhanced.” Cass gasped into the comms before looking up to the roof access.

Just as she goes to finish the final lot of stairs, the door on her floor slams open, smashing into her causing her to stumble back into the rail. She fights against the sudden hands on her throat and gripping her wrist to the hand holding the handgun. She grunts as her attacker slams her wrist into the railing and her gun falls helplessly down the stairwell. She punches and slaps in her struggle to get the hands from around her throat but the brute seems unaffected as his hands clasp tighter and black dots appear in the corners of her vision. But those black dots turn into mist as the brutes strength wains as he inhales a thick mist and his eyes go wide as he begins to choke.

The attacker stumbles back as he claws at his own throat, gasping and choking for air as Cass coughs and watches the brute be strangled from the inside. When the attacker collapses, the black mist forms a thick cloud as it formed a solid matter before the skull bone stared back at Cass.

“I’ll be fine, you need to get to Johnny.” She said, shortly followed by a howl as gunfire rang throughout the stairwell.

“Go!” Ghost growled.

He descended the stairwell over the railing and Cass didn’t wait as she heard the blood curdling screams that followed.

She flew through the door to the roof and immediately ducked down as bullets darted past her. She dove for cover behind an air duct as more bullets wizzed past her. The gunfire was coming from the same roof and was periodic – one man fired and as he reloaded another fired in his place – keeping Cass from making a run for better cover.

“I’m under fire!” Cass called out. “Can’t see how many but their on the same roof!”

“I’ve got men in the street shooting at civilians, Ghost how copy?!” Gaz grunted.

“He’s with Soap, too many coming up to the roof.” Cass replied when no response came from the other man. “Price where the fuck is that halo?!”

Silence was all that followed on the comms.

Cass never panicked. She’d been captured before, tortured but this didn’t look like a hostage situation. These people were out to kill her for whatever was on the drive – and her only escape right now wasn’t responding. The gunfire was still raining down heavy upon her and she didn’t have her gun as it was probably joined by several others at the bottom of the building.

“Cass get off the roof now! They’ve got-” The comms cut out with a high screech that made Cass rip it out of her ear. She looked to her left just as a rocket was hurling towards her rooftop. She cursed as she ran forward to the edge of the building. This was the only option as she jumped and the heat hit her back as the explosion rung out behind her.

She was falling. Fast. She couldn’t scream as the air rushed past her, stealing with it the air from her lungs. She couldn’t scream for help, she couldn’t reach out to stop herself, she was falling and the ground was going to cave her body into a bloody fucking mess. She closed her eyes and accepted that this was the final one.

She grunted as she was forcefully stopped in the air by a solid object slamming into her and shooting her back into the air.

Wait, up?!

She opened her eyes and recognised the scaled wings that curled and straightened.

“That was too fucking close!” Price gruffed as his arms gripped Cass tighter against his broad chest as he levelled them out and then flew down to the streets below. Cass couldn’t stop staring at the side of Price’s face as he focused on getting her to the ground without becoming a puddle of blood and bone. She didn’t notice they had landed until he looked down at her and her knees nearly gave out beneath her.

She watched his wings curl around them, cocooning them from the rest of the world. A shield from the impeding doom of their mission. But Price’s blue eyes were all she could think of – all she could focus her manic mind on.

“Speak to me, Dove. You broken?” He asks her.

She could hear her own heart in her ears, feel her body trembling with adrenaline – but her knees really couldn’t hold her weight.

“I hate heights.” Cass chokes out.

Price chuckles as he holds her up and then turns his head to watch Gaz land.

“Bout time you showed up, Captain.” He scolds and then Price was off Cass. His wings no longer keeping her safe against his hold and her legs had to adjust quickly to the shift. Gaz held out a rifle for her to take and she did so without thought.

“What’s the situation?” Price demands.

“We’ve civilians running from extremists, police have this entire block surrounded. Soap and Ghost are inside.” Gaz reports as they all round the truck and shot extremist forces before ducking behind cover again.

“Just another day at the office.” Price grunts. “Dove, you receive the drive?”

“It’s sitting comfortably in my bra, sir.” Cass replies and grins at the look of surprise on Gaz’s face.

“Right, we deal with this lot and try to contact the others.” Price directed.

“Right behind you, sir.” Gaz responded.

“Cass, you still with us?”

“Always.”

The gunfire had quietened, the fight was over. Ghost and Soap had rejoined them on the street – Soap in tattered clothing and trousers that were basically a loin cloth.

“Cass!” Soap had called as soon as he saw her. He ran up to her and embraced her and Cass had to pat him on the shoulder to signal a loss of air from his vice grip. Simon slowly approached them, weakened by the amount of exposure his power had taken on him. Gaz and Soap caught him as he nearly collapsed.

“We need to get moving, Laswell has clean up on its way.” Price ordered.

They were picked up in the halo and were off back to base.

Gaz had gone up into the cockpit to speak with the pilot; a habit caused by his last experience with Nik. Soap and Simon were bickering over Soap using Simon’s jumper to at least cover up – but Soap being himself refused. Price kept a close eye on Cass as she sat across from Simon and Soap. She had gone quiet since they had sat and she would periodically check on each of them. She was watching the pair across from them as they argued about Soap’s habit of near full nudity.

“House rules.” The simple statement from her had Soap huffing as he took the offered jumper from Simon and covering himself up. Simon then lifted his balaclava up over his nose, the closest he would come for the moment in reclaiming himself and falling into the Ghost.

“You ain’t told ol’ man off yet.” Soap huffed as he gestured to Price; who in return raised an eyebrow in response.

“He’s keeping me warm for now, the moment we hit the ground he can cool off.” Cass responded and then leant closer to Price.

Soap huffed again as Simon chuckled. Price hadn’t realised he was burning up until he felt the freezing skin on Cass’s shoulders touch his bare arm. Had they been anywhere else the small woman would’ve made Price go release the pent up fire within him. Cool off. For now she was contented with using him as a blanket as she let exhaustion wash over her and drag her into its depths.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x oc #john price x oc #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #monster!au

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hikarry · 9 months

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Well, well, well

I'm onto my 4th rewatch

I took it upon myself to rewatch the season in every language I know and, so far, the Portuguese dub - excluding the original, obviously - takes the cake. And maybe I'm biased cause I'm Portuguese but hey throw my corpse into a barrel you can't blame me for anything

My fourth rewatch will be in Brazillian Portuguese and I'm ready to be flabbergasted cause, lord knows the Brazillians are good with dubs

Alas, I've decided my fifth rewatch will be in Portuguese again cause I just really love the dub and listening to You Know What in my mother tongue makes it all even more heartbreaking and I'm a masochist

The sixth rewatch will be the original again because that's clearly the superior version and...boy, i don't know how many more excuses i can make to watch this season again and again and again

#good omens #shoutout to Crowley's portuguese voice actor for committing to the act and doing all the weird little noises Crowley does in the original #spencer speaks

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crispycostumes · 2 years

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and the third instalment in all our favourite show: i think too deeply about richard campbell gansey the third and his mint leaves. this will follow the same route as the others, and as such, it is a list (and pseudo-analysis) of every time mint is mentioned in conjunction with gansey in bllb (post 1 and post 2)

the first time is after noah has his freakout in the office of blue’s guidance counsellor and she goes to monmouth

“Blue arrived at Monmouth Manufacturing before anyone else. She knocked to be sure, and then let herself in. Immediately, she was enveloped with the comfortable scent of the room: the faded library-smell of old books, the cool odor of mint, the must-and-rust scent of century-old brick and ancient pipes, the note of funk from the heap of dirty laundry against the wall.”

(gansey’s home smells of mint, this still makes me sad)

the second time is after he and malory arrive at monmouth and they start talking about Iolo Goch and who he was to glendower

“He paused to locate a tiny microwave. He examined the interior of a mug before filling it. Pulling a mint leaf from his pocket to suck on, he spoke around it as the water heated. “Really, if Glendower were Robin Hood, Iolo Goch would have been … that other guy.””

(i think there is so many interpretations that could be made about this scene, it’s so interesting to see him do what we can establish is a nervous habit and coping mechanism for when he feels very anxious while talking about one of his favourite things) (something something actually finding glendower was his worst nightmare)

the third time is just a few paragraph after that when he finishes with the tea

“He turned, mug in hand, and suddenly they were an inch apart. She could smell the mint in his mouth. She saw his throat move as he swallowed.”

(once again, many interpretations. We know he chews absently when he’s immersed in something while anxious so it would make sense to assume that he chews quickly when he’s feeling very anxious about something. making a cup of tea in the microwave doesn’t take long. thoughts thoughts)

the fourth time is after noah has another freakout and blue pulls the plug on him

“Noah sat in the middle of the floor, papers all around him, a mint plant spilling dirt by his hand. He was all hunched over and shadowless, his form slight and streaky, barely visible at all. He was crying again.”

(notable about this is that it says A mint plant. not THE mint plant or GANSEY’S mint plant singular like it did in previous books. from this i think it’s safe to establish that there’s more than one mint plant in this room) (no im not ready to talk about noah yet okay)

the fifth time is after blue has her argument with orla about loving the raven boys

““You know what I think, Orla? I think you’re a big, fat bully —” Blue barreled right into Gansey, who had stepped inside the front hall. For a moment she smelled mint, felt the solidness of his chest, and then she wheeled back.”

(not very notable on its own, i know, but it adds to the immediate association these characters have between gansey and mint)

The sixth through ninth time is the car ride when he and blue talk about just wanting to pretend they could be together and kiss

““Blue,” he warned, but his voice was chaotic. This close, his throat was scented with mint and wool sweater and vinyl car seat, and Gansey, just Gansey.”

(gansey, just gansey, is so very closely tied with mint to the people who love him and who he loves in return)

““And then we never speak of it again,” Gansey said, mocking himself softly, and Blue was so glad of it, because she had played the words from that night over and over in her mind and wanted to know he had, too. Gently he tucked her hair behind her ears — this was a fool’s errand, because it had never been behind her ears to begin with and wouldn’t stay. But he did it again and again, and then he took out two mint leaves and put one in his mouth and one in hers.”

(oooh the things i could say about this miniscule part of this scene alone but let's keep it short, they’re doing something they promised both each other and themselves not to, they’re meeting in secret in the middle of the night, everything about this is something that would lead to gansey feeling an enormous amount of anxiety even if he feels happy to get to be with blue,, and then he’d probably feel guilty about the happiness and it would lead him to spiral into more mint) (and let’s not talk about how it was probably him trying to in some misguided way make her feel better about meeting in secret through doing and sharing something that he uses to cope when he feels bad and can’t talk about it)

“She rolled the mint leaf over and over her tongue. She felt shivery with cold or fatigue.”

“Now he exhaled, but he didn’t disagree. The clock in the Camaro didn’t work, but it had to be dangerously close to morning. They switched places; Blue curled again in his coat, feet up on the seat. As she tugged the collar up to cover her mouth and nose, she let herself imagine that this place was rightfully hers. That somehow Adam and Ronan already knew and were already okay with it. That her lips carried no threat. That Gansey was not going to die, that he wasn’t going to leave for Yale or Princeton, that all that mattered was that he had given her his coat with its wheatgrass and mint on the collar.”

(wheatgrass and mint, the smell that, to blue, IS gansey)

the tenth time is after they bring gwenllian back to fox way and leave her to live there.

“Gansey put a mint leaf in his mouth; it was impossible to not think of the night before, when he’d put one in hers. “She stays here, for now. That wasn’t me, that was Persephone. I offered to fix the first floor of Monmouth. That might still end up being what happens.””

(yes i know this has more romance than anxiety but bear with me. he’s still in an anxious and uncomfortable situation he doesn’t feel in control over. he’s worried and scared. also the car ride and his feelings for blue (even though she makes him quiet) would probably lead to him feeling guilty and etc since he’s keeping things from his friends and lying to them)

the eleventh and last time in bllb is when he and blue are hugging after she starts to cry when calla and the others leave to go get maura from the cave

“He pulled back, wincing through pins and needles, and gave her a mint leaf before sitting back against the bed frame beside her.”

(“he could not tell who was comforting who” so what does he do when blue is feeling anxious and afraid and he’s not good with words or comfort? he does the only thing he knows how, the only thing that he knows would help comfort him in times like these, he doesn’t leave her and he gives her a mint leaf)

#i want to give him a hug #my anxiety can sometimes feel like a restless buzzing in my chest and/or in my limbs #i wonder if it’s the same for him #i wonder if that’s a part of why he does it #consuming a repellant for something he knows isn’t there but irrationally fears the same #getting the mint inside his chest to soothe some irrational compulsive thought #oh my god why do i do this to myself #anyways yeah gansey’s intrinsic smell to people who love him being mint still makes me want to scream #the mint saga #i want my one singular follower to know that i am doing this for them #yes i will shut up now #trc #the raven cycle #bllb #richard campbell gansey iii #gansey

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