#please his assistant is going starry eyed

[gemkun]

looking for : an assistant that is immune to one gambler’s whims and silver tongue , if this is you please contact the doctor

#* ✦ 𝐕𝐈. ❮ muses ❯ ⸻ ❝ 「 veritas ratio 」 #please his assistant is going starry eyed #this is not optimal #if your immunity is not on the resume do not bother #anyways this offer will be up for 3 business days #interviews will be conducted in a week #that is all

[evandarya]

Are you still taking prompts? If so, please consider the following. Danny gets summoned to Gothem by a cult who planned to sacrifice one of the batfam to him. What they were not expecting was for the Ghost King to appear, laying on the ground, curled up under a very warm looking blanket, 80% asleep as he mumbles, "where the fuck am I? Why would you summon me so late at night??"

That's hilarious.

***

Tim hates cultists. They are in the top five of people he hates, beating out door to door evangelists by a slim margin. They were still under people who park their shopping cart diagonally across the aisle. The only reason they are lower on the list is because most cultists didn't learn how to tie a proper knot, but if he can't get free before the high summoner finishes his chant, cultist are going to find themselves moving up on his shit list.

The markings on the floor around Tim started to glow a vivid, toxic green. Freezing wind whipped in a frigid tornado and Tim shivered despite the insulation his Red Robin suit provided. Small ice crystals formed as the humidity in the air froze, the tiny snowflakes getting caught up in the wind, swirling and condensing I center of the circle. Right in front of Tim, and there was nothing he could do to stop whatever the cultists we're summoning from coming. Tim squeezed his eyes tight as a bright flash of white light illuminated the room. Everything stood still. The snowflakes hung in the air like crystals on a wire. At the center of the circle, arms reach from where Tim sat was a soft looking blanket.

The cultists shifted and whispered among themselves. Tim heard bits of hushed conversation, "Where's the ghost king?" "Did you do the spell right?" "Maybe he didn't like the sacrifice?"

Tim was only half listening, because the dark blue, star dotted blanket was moving. First, a gloved hand pushed out from the blanket and shifted it until Tim could see snow white hair, blue skin, and one eye, cracked open just enough for Tim to see the unusual tint of green. The green eyed man, boy? Creature? Looked at him intensely. Tim felt as if his very soul was being weighed.

Whatever this person saw in him must have satisfied him because he turned his attention to the cultists.

"You have a lot of nerve," He said sitting up and singling out the cult leader. "Summoning me this early in the morning to-- where even am I?" He asked, turning back to Tim.

"Gotham city." Tim said.

The beings eyes widened slightly and he turned back to the cult leader. "You summed me to fricking New Jersey in the middle of the night? You had better have a damned good reason."

The cult leader straighted under the attention and addressed the being. "I summoned you, Ghost King. I offer you the vigilante Red Robin as a sacrifice if you will assist in helping me to spread our message of redemption to the world."

The Ghost King floated up from where he had been sitting on the ground and hovered in the air, starry blanket draped over his shoulders like a cloak. "You summoned me to New Jersey," the ghost started, slowly, dangerously. "in the middle of the night during finals week to offer me a sacrifice that isn't yours to offer so I can help you take over the world?" As the ghost spoke the wind started picking up and the temperature dropped. Ice started to crawl across the floor in fractals. The lights flashed and sputtered and the shadows seemed to come alive. An eerie static could be heard , and the very air felt oppressive.

The cult leader was trying to stutter apologies or reasonings, but the ghost wasn't listening. He was advancing slowly, the lines of the sigil on the ground hissed and sputtered as the ghost crossed over them, their magic was as useful as a spiders web at containing the being. The ghost reached the cult leader who fell to his knees, begging and pleading. The being looked down at him, head tilted to the side.

"Boo!"

The cult leader screamed and fell to the ground. All the other cultists took that as their cue to scream and run for the exits.

The ghost didn't chase them, he just watched as they scattered like roaches. Once they were gone he turned his full attention onto him. Tim felt a thrill jolt down his spine as those unusual green eyes stared him down. "Let me help you out of that." He said, floating back over to him. Tim didn't flinch, but he held very still as the ghost phased the ropes off his wrists. "I'm sorry you got roped into my business, Robin, was it?"

"Red Robin." Tim said, stretching his arms out from where they had been stuck behind his back.

"I'm Phantom." The ghost said, offering Tim a hand up, which he accepted. "Is there anywhere around here a ghost can get a cup of coffee? I have a long day." Phantom said. Tim smiled at him.

"I think I know a place."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc comics #crossover #tim drake #dp x dc #fanfic #brain dead #evandarya answers #sorry it got posted before i was done writing it #writing in the tumblr app is a trip and a half

[zhongrin]

his favorite

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, ta!zhongli, yandere, a little suggestive if you squint

◇ a/n ◇ before you pOUNCE at me, i don't consider this age gap?? cause teaching assistants in my country are literally fellow uni students (literally my siblings became one when they were in uni), so do keep that in mind - it's the setting i'm going for here~

ta!zhongli who sees you listening intently whenever he's the one who teaches the class, but struggles to stay awake or focus when it comes to others. you're so adorable, starry-eyed and so eager to please, eyes squinting whenever he says a particularly difficult terminology, a shy smile pulling on your lips when he gives you your papers back with an A+ and a short 'well done :)' penned in red.

he wonders when did his innocent fascination turn into something darker.

something more sinister and twisted. something dark in his chest when he sees someone sitting beside you, a boy who asks to share textbooks and exchange numbers and partner up for group projects. a blazing dark flame when he spots you running around the campus and sees the way others look at you, with their leering eyes and nefarious smirks and lewd whispers. you're so unaware of the conflicting feelings inside his mind, the constant war between his desire to cherish you and the need to own you, wholly, completely, both spiritually and physically, both your heart and your body.

and when you come up to him teary eyed, pretty fingers trembling on the latest paper of your abysmal grade, the war concludes in an overwhelming victory.

"i could certainly rethink your grade - after all, you have been an excellent student so far.... but everything comes with a price, sweetheart. if you are interested, may i propose a contract?"

your whole being for his everlasting, engulfing love.

he thinks it's a fair deal.

will you accept?

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #yandere #rin writes

[a-libra-writes]

Hello hello! I’ve read your Mordecai posts and THEY’RE SO GOOD!!! I was really wondering if you could please write for Sedgewick! I’ve taken an interest in him since I’ve started reading the Lackadaisy comics more. Maybe the reader is like his secretary or an assistant? Sorry if that’s not much information you can go off of but I really like what you’ve come up with so you can do what you want with it! Anyway, take care and thank you!!!

🏔🪨 been thinking abt Wick ..... had some ideas with this one..... lots of masc+femme options plus overall GN ones. Note this is romantic HCs!

So, how you work alongside Wick depends on your gender due to the times. For a lady, you're an additional secretary who specializes in finance or social engagements. For a lad, you're a consultant in his company for anything from finance to local geology. He took a liking to you right away, both for your personality and looks (though the latter he keeps to himself). If you'd rather not be a subordinate, you can still be a third party consultant or planner of some kind.

You start to realize how much he overworks himself, and perhaps you're just as bad! Before long you're keeping long hours with him in the office, or having to stop by his manor to catch up with some big project. On one hand, he hates keeping you so much, on the other, well. It is nice to have you around so often, and you really help him out when he's frazzled.

It flusters him more and more when you lean over his desk to point something out, or bend over across the room to pick something up. He feels pretty awful about that last one; once Lacy caught him and snapped her fingers loudly in front of him to get his attention.

Because you two work so much together, you get plenty of opportunities to talk - especially when he wants to avoid certain paperwork. He loves listening to you rant about this client, just as he loves going off on his own tangent about that investor. You both start to give nicknames to the difficult ones. Then he listens to you talk about your plans when you're off work, what your family is like, your interests. He could just listen to you talk all day ... many times Lacy has come in to drop off paperwork and you two are still talking, and her boss looks totally starry-eyed.

(I mean he often looks at you like you hang the moon, sooo...)

Wick really wants to invite you out, like. Badly. He hates being cooped up with work, he prefers socializing face to face out in the world. But ... is that appropriate? If you're femme and work for him, this especially bothers him. He ought to make it clear it's strictly platonic, but, uh. It isn't. If you're masc, it's easier to invite you to a simple outing, but ... there's the whole definiately-not-platonic feelings --

(Yeah, a cute guy brings up a loooot of feelings Wick's repressed since boarding school. Oops.)

He settles for lunches because those seem the most innocuous. You start to wonder what his thing about afternoon sandwiches and coffee is all about, considering he keeps forgetting to eat while working (and don't worry, you always bring something back for Lacy!)

When he dozes off at his desk, you like to put a coat or blanket over him ... or just gently nudge him awake and tell him to go home. Wick really prefers to drop you off if it's late, not wanting you to walk or take public transportation at such a late hour also he can show off his car a bit.

When he passes out on the desk, you'll put a blanket or his coat over him. A few times he's been half awake, and it both startles and embarrasses him. If he could, he'd blush to his ears. Wick would really prefer you didn't see that "sloppy" side of him, but come on. It's unavoidable, and he's probably done the same when you've fallen asleep in your own office chair (except he likes putting his own coat over you).

At least once or twice a month, you have to accompany him to work events and gatherings. It's important to schmooze and make connections and all that; if it's not your kind of scene, at least you get a reason to dress up and eat absurdly expensive food. You better believe Wick is looking r e s p e c t f u l l y, even if it's the dozenth event you've attended together. He likes picking you up at your place, as if this is a date and not a charity auction.

... Though, you're often mistaken for his date if you're femme. And if you're masc, sometimes he has to borrow cufflinks or gloves ... yes, he's a little more than giddy to wear your things.

Normally he's a social butterfly, but Wick finds himself frustrated when he's mid conversation with you and he has to stop to visit with some group of investors or fellow businessmen. You excuse yourself, but his eyes still follow you across the room.

While he often compliments you when it comes to him, sometimes Wick worries about it being too much. What if you take it the wrong way? How much is appropriate? While in this era a boss could get away with chasing after his subordinate all he wants, Wick shudders at the idea of you thinking of him that way. And if you're a man, he certainly worries you might think ... well, sometimes he's sure you reciprocate, but he can't just ask, so ...

It's all a jumble that falters the normally relaxed man's confidence. He tells himself he'd be content if you just wanted to be friends. He certainly wants to be friends, at least - he wants you to like him, not merely tolerate him because you're a subordinate or colleague.

On that note, you get lovely presents and generous bonuses at the appropriate times of the year. The birthday and Christmas presents are especially thoughtful and expensive - but of course, Wick doesn't think of the cost. He's totally comfortable presenting Lacy with her gift, but suddenly gets nervous about your's. Yes, he's that obvious ... You'll get flowers or expensive whiskey after closing deals, or maybe just because. Trying to convince him gifts are unnecessary is a losing battle, because as far as Wick's concerned, it's one of the safer ways to show his affection. Though, if it's the cost you're worried about, he'll bug Lacy about what's a good ""normal"" gift (because no, Wick, a $30 floral arrangement 'just because' is not normal! Nor is a $50 lunch!)

If you're femme, Lacy is losing her patience and just tells him to ask you out already. She'll bring it up with you, too - hell, she'll lock you both in a room together because all this doe-eyed mooning and pining is driving her logical brain nuts.

If you're masc, it's a little more tricky. Lacy starts to pick up on the odd vibe between you two, and how Wick seems almost ... mopey when you're away or getting friendly with some other man. She has suspicions, but she can't ask directly. So she makes sure to rearrange appointments so you two have more time together, to make sure you're seated together during dinners and events, and calls you for help, only to suddenly remember something and leave you two alone.

Generally Wick is frequently worrying about his feelings being reciprocated, though with a lady he'd be more open about it and trying to gauge if you're comfortable. Again, he'd really want to remain friends because he admires your expertise, interests and personality ☆

#i gotta do some romantic HCs for him but like! its already there in the comic #hes such a damn sweetheart wtf #and yes i will forever use mountain and rock emojis for him LMAO #wick sable x reader #sedgewick sable x reader #lackadaisy x reader

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Epilogue

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: sensuality

A/N: What's that sound? It's my heart breaking to finally say goodbye to Kix and Maree. Thank you to all my readers who've stuck with me this long! I love you all.

Start here | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Six standard months later

“Safe travels, Dr. Finnall,” Brenko said. “While you’re away, I’ll finish cataloging the rest of the artifacts from Hisseen.”

“Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite research assistant?” she asked.

“I’m your only research assistant,” he pointed out. “See you in a couple weeks.”

Maree waved farewell and went to load a few last-minute items into the Meson Martinet’s shuttle. Reveth helped, lifting the heaviest bags with ease with her powerful mechanical arm.

“I still think it’s a mistake for you to go to headquarters of the New Republic Rangers,” Reveth grumbled. “What if the Spinward Patrol recognizes the shuttle and disintegrates you?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Maree said. “The Rangers are even more scared of Baba than Kix is.”

“I never said I was scared,” Kix objected, entering the shuttle with his small satchel. 

“You didn’t have to,” Reveth said. “We could all tell.”

The Twi’lek exited the shuttle and sealed the hatch as Kix muttered under his breath. If he’d been worried that Reveth and Maree would resent each other based on their history with him, those fears paled in comparison to the reality that the two had become fast friends who told each other everything and held weekly holo-sabbac nights with Valsi. It was frankly unfair. Maree was already conducting a stealth campaign to convince Valsi and Tane to leave the Archive and join the crew.

Truth be told, the Martinet was starting to feel a little crowded, but Ithano had a plan. He was building a fleet from old Separatist ships that Kix helped him locate, and a few nights earlier, Quiggold had casually mentioned the possibility of making Kix the captain of a cruiser. If Ithano decided to go through with it, there would be more than enough room for Maree’s growing collection of Seppie junk—er, “artifacts of incalculable historic value and significance.” 

Of course, he wasn't sure how much Brenko might object to being pulled away from the Martinet. He had a tendency to flush to a deep emerald green whenever he spoke to Reeg Brosna, and the Arcona frequently had a dazed, starry-eyed expression that had nothing to do with his ocular biology. Maree’s tactics had been completely unsubtle as she seized any opportunity to throw the two together. If Ithano did make Kix a captain, he wouldn't be surprised if Maree tried to get Reeg installed as first mate.

He launched the shuttle, and Maree began to input the coordinates for Adelphi.

“I still can’t believe you stole Brenko to be your research assistant,” Kix said.

“I am a pirate, after all,” Maree said with a shrug as Kix flipped the lever, and the shuttle jumped into hyperspace.

“You have two PhDs,” Eema said severely as she opened every window in the house to let out the billowing smoke. “How is it possible that something as simple as baking cookies eludes you?”

“It wasn’t covered in my coursework,” Maree said, gagging on the acrid scent of charred sugar.

She dumped the tray of scorched biscuits into the sink and turned on the water to put out any remaining embers.

“I’m impressed that this batch actually caught fire,” Baba said in a much milder tone. “How did you manage that?”

“I got distracted,” Maree said, heat rising in her cheeks.

She shot an accusatory glance at Kix, who was leaning against the wall and looking rather pleased with himself.

“Ugh, in my kitchen?” Eema demanded.

“Right in front of your salad,” Baba confirmed with a twinkle.

“Oh, stars, Moms, we weren’t doing that!” Maree exclaimed.

“Not this time, anyway,” Kix said.

“Traitor,” Maree grumbled. “Remind me why I brought you here, again?”

“Because you wanted me to charm your mothers enough that your Baba wouldn’t blow our ship out of the sky,” Kix said. “Do you think it’s working?”

“It was probably working better before I turned the kitchen into a smoldering ruin of despair and regret,” Maree said.

“As if his masculine wiles would work on us,” Eema snorted.

“Maree seems to like them,” Baba said. “No accounting for taste, I suppose.”

She winked at Kix, and he grinned back at her. Despite Maree’s reservations, Baba had taken a single look at Kix and practically adopted him on the spot. The two drank spotchka and swapped war stories, and Baba gleefully told Kix a few of the more embarrassing anecdotes from Maree’s childhood. One night, they sat on the front porch and spoke quietly for many, many hours, long after Maree and Eema had gone to sleep, and when Maree awoke the next morning, she found Kix curled up next to her, his face completely relaxed and looking more at peace than she had ever seen him.

When Maree had somewhat nervously broached the topic of piracy, Baba simply laughed and asked, “Did you think everything I did back in my Ranger days was strictly legal? Sweetie, this is the Outer Rim. If I went chasing every pirate and smuggler that crossed my path, I’d never get a night’s sleep again.”

Eema had been slower to warm up to Kix. She’d been polite and welcoming, of course, but she withheld judgment until she had a chance to see how luminously happy the clone made Maree. 

That night, Kix confessed to Maree that Eema terrified him. “I thought you said Baba was the one we had to worry about.”

“I said Baba might kill us,” she corrected him as she climbed into bed. “Eema will just make us wish we were dead.”

“Great,” Kix replied. 

He slid under the covers next to her, and she snuggled close to his body, resting her head on his bare shoulder and draping her leg over his thighs.

“She’ll come around,” Maree promised. “She’s just not used to the idea of me being in a relationship.”

“Have you never brought anyone home to meet them before?” he asked, kissing her forehead.

Maree shook her head. “This is uncharted territory for all of us.”

“I feel better already,” Kix said drily.

“I know how to make you feel better,” she said mischievously, stroking her hands down his abdomen.

He squirmed away. “Are you insane? What if they hear us?”

“What’s wrong? Is the big, strong, fearsome warrior afraid of a couple of retirees?”

“Yes!” Kix said frankly. “You know we clones have genetically enhanced survival instincts.”

“I guess you’ll just have to use your genetically enhanced stealth abilities and be very, very quiet,” she said, sliding down his body.

“Oh, kriff,” he gasped as she licked up the inside of his thigh.

“Shhh,” she soothed, snaking a hand up his chest to rest reassuringly over his heart. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Now that I think about it, we clones were also taught not to fear death,” he said, tangling his hands in her hair and guiding her head toward his stiffening cock.

“Such a heroic sacrifice,” Maree whispered, drawing him into her mouth.

Kix bit back a groan as he sank into her soft warmth. “Anything for the Republic.”

#clone medic kix #pirate kix #post stasis kix #kix x ofc #sw tcw fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings

[cf8wrk4u-us]

Ben 10 Trollhunters Crossover

(based on the amazing AU made by @sonicasura , please check out their blog and AUs)

Becoming~

Despite what the songs and sagas would have you believe about Kanjigar, things didn’t come easy for the current Trollhunter. 

He’s had his own share of problems and dilemmas. And might as he tried to carry them on his own, to keep the weight of his responsibility from others there were things he couldn’t solve or dispher on himself.

One example being the current vision that had plagued him.

It had been a long few days of patrolling the streets and forest surrounding Arcadia, negotiating peace treaties between different clans of trolls, and chasing  Bular. The latter of which seems to take sweet sadistic joy in making the current Trollhunter run after him.

He knew Bular was up to something, the Gum-Gum prince hinting as such and thriving on Kanjigars frustration as he struggled to comprehend what.

So yes, it had been a frustrating few days.

That's why when Kanjigar finally removed his armor and collapsed in his and Draals shared den, with Blinky and Aaaarrghhs prompting, he found himself resigned  to enjoy a restful few hours of sleep.

Only instead of being welcomed by a void of nothing Kanjigar was plagued by images and visions he could barely comprehend.

Of an infinite starry night.

A celestial body that was surrounded by a ring of floating rocks. 

Two vessels made of metal that could fly and were doing battle.

Fire and explosions lighting up through the darkness of its space.

A silvery sphere being launched into space, towards a world of bright greens and blues.

His world.

Kanjigar awoke in a panic, stone chest heaving. 

Besides him he eyed the Amulet of Daylight glowing a frantic blue.

“Was this your doing”? He found himself asking “Were these visions of a prophecy”?

Kanjigar knew he would get no answer in this state but could potentially find it elsewhere. Quick on his feet he donned his armor and made his way out of his den.

“Father”?

Kanjigar looked to see son Draal standing by the door way, slug over his shoulder was what sounded like scraps of metal and glass. The older troll found himself warmed that his son would go through the trouble of getting him a snack but realized he couldn’t let himself be distracted.

“I’m off to see Vendel, son” he answered brisky as he made his way to the entryway.

Draal though continued to block his path “But arn’t you supposed to be resting, you’ve gone without sleep for too long-”

“A Trollhunter doesn't always get the leisure of rest”! He snapped before gently but firmly pushing Draal away.

But even as he made his way into the streets of Trollmarket Kanjigar could hear the crash of the bag of food hitting against the wall and the aggravated growl of Draals.

He was only trying to help you, a quite voice whispered.

But Kanjigar shook them away though.

Reminding himself that this was for the best, the farther away Draal was from Trollhunter business the safer he would be.

“And are you sure that's what you saw?” asked Vendel.

The leader of Trollmarket and overall elder of his tribe, Vendel was quite proficient at his craft of deciphering prophecies.

“Yes” answered Kanjigar.

Vendel pulled at his beared thoughtfully as he paced back and forth in his workshop.

“Visions of the stars, flying ships of metal” the troll elder finally stopped “You don’t think….that another visit from the stars is at play here”?

Kanjigar furrowed his brow.

The last time they had been visited from worlds beyond it was to assist the two royals of House Tarron in hiding away their most precious relic. Kanjigar unconsciously tapped his foot on the floor, reminding himself that under their feet is where the great item of power layed sealed away by his own hands.

“I can’t be sure, the last visions of the King and Queen were clear enough” said the Trollhunter “But now…”

A part of Kanjigar wondered how the royal couple has fared these last centuries. He hoped nothing for the best from them, their families, and their people.

 But if the visions were about them….

Kanjigar lightly shuddered as he remembered the devastating attack between the two flying ships. But not seeing the royals in his visions overall did serve to reassure the Trollhunter that the king and queen were well.

Still though.

“I’m just not sure how to make sense of them” admitted Kanjigar.

Vendel only nodded “Visions show so much and show so little” he said “Prophecies of what could come and what danger they present, but still leaving us with so many questions” the elder troll looked to the Trollhunter “But still at least we are presented with one clue”

“Really”? Asked Kanjigar for clarification. 

Vendel huffed “We can already tell where its coming from” before stretching his ancient neck to look to the amber ceiling “We have only to look to the heavens”

______________________________________

Jim groaned as noticed the sun finally dipping over the horizon over the tree-line.

He should be home by now getting meal prep done for tomorrow's lunches and dinners. But  here he was instead, basically searching blind through the bushes for his phone.

The reason?

Psycho Steve.

His legal name being Steve Palchuck, the schools resident bully and today he had chosen Jim as his target for today. Granted it was Toby that Steve had been trying to aim for, only for Jim to try to shield his friend and call Steve out on his jerky behavior.

“It's ridiculous! Could you at least try being original for a change? You've been doing the same old bully routine since the second grade, Steve! It's tired. Making fun of Toby for his weight? Seriously”?

This had gotten him a furious look from the blond jock before morphing into a sadistic smile. He had guessed he was going to be paid back for the comment in some way, but as the rest of the school day passed he had hoped Steve's neanderthal brain squeezed Jims comment out of his thought process.

But when he and Toby began to bike their way home Steve and his lackeys slid up to them like a shiver of sharks. 

Jim and Toby had hurriedly sped up on their bikes to try to get away, but unfortunately Palchuck and his gang were some of the school's top athletes so it took them little time to catch up to the pair.

“I’m coming for you Lake”! jeered Steve “You dead meat”!

With those words Jim found himself slightly grateful that Steve's anger seemed to be directed on him specifically and not Toby, given that at the moment the pudgy teen was already gasping for breath as he tried to speed up.

Because of that Jim made a quick decision, eyeing one of the alleyways that faced the forest Jim swerved his bike towards it. Steve made a startled sound before it turned into an enraged grunt.

“Get back here Lake”! Jim heard the bully shout.

The pavement soon gave way to more uneven dirt as Jim raced his bike through the slopes of the woods. His bike jostling along but the teen skillfully keeping his balance, unlike Palchuck and his friends.

Jim couldn’t help grinning as he stared back and saw the boys struggling to keep up.

Steve and his friends maybe some of the top athletes at school but Jim grew up in these woods. 

Heck! Him and Toby were Mole Scouts at one point!

“You're dead, Lake”! Steve yelled “When I catch-up to you, your gonna wish-”

But at this point Jim thankfully couldn’t hear him.

The teen didn’t stop till he was at the canal.

Huffing and out of breath, Jim reached for his phone to text Toby that he was okay but froze when he felt his jacket pocket was empty.

He felt around his jeans, but still nothing.

Jim looked to the forest, wincing.

“Oh, no….”

Now Jim was stuck in the woods looking frantically for his phone. 

A part of him reasons he should just go to Tobys to ask his friend for help but was still weary of Steve prowling around. So he grit and beared the task of trying to find his phone on his own. But as the last bit of sunlight kissed the horizon Jim had to accept he might not find it tonight or worse, never.

Jim groaned again, he didn’t want to ask his mom for a new one or use his Vespa savings to buy another, but the hard truth was that he may have too.

It was getting dark and he didn’t want to be stuck in the woods at night on his own, even if he was still close to the urban areas.

It just didn’t feel safe…

Jogging through the growing darkness of the woods to make his way back home something caught the teens eyes.

Squinting up at the dark sky Jim was shocked to see something glowing bright in the night. 

At first Jim guessed it was an airplane or even hopefully a shooting star.

(something he could use to wish on to help him find his phone)

Only for the bright object to worryingly grow in size and intensity as it flew towards him.

“What the-” Jim started only to scream as the “shooting star” zoomed right at him!

The teen dove out of the way just in time for the burning object to race by him, his whole back side flushed with warmth by the speed of the falling thing.

There was a loud crash and hunks of rocks flew everywhere!

Jim stayed tucked under the underbrush, only looking up when the last of the debris fell away. The air was filled with dust and Jim coughed as he slowly sat up. His eyes widen when he saw a crater and curiously the teen took a step forward.

Another gasp left his mouth as he saw the devastation the crash left a good portion of the forest

Peering down into the center of the crater Jim could almost make out a small dark object.

“A meteor”? He asked out loud.

Going back to his sixth grade science knowledge, he heard meteors that crashed to earth usually broke apart in the earth's atmosphere and rarely did they cause any damage of this sizable amount.

Despite the devastation, Jim couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of finding a real meteorite. 

Imagine the reaction of his classmates if he came to school tomorrow with a real piece of space-rock! 

He be a school legend!

And maybe….

Jim's thoughts immediately turned to a pretty browned-eyed dark haired girl from history class. So lost in thought the teen didn’t know that the ledge he was standing on was beginning to come apart till he was already falling into the crater.

Groaning Jim stood back up, while getting his bearings he came face to face to what was in the crater. 

The item was round and seemed to be made of some dark metal, parts of it platted like a shell or even a rolly-polly. 

Definitely not a meteor in Jims books.

“Is this a part of a satellite or something”? The teen asked out loud.

Maybe it was a piece of a satellite or even a rocket ship, still pretty cool and-

The round object suddenly opened and Jim was engulfed in a bright green light. Inside was a strange looking bracelet or watch, the thing was made up of black and gray material with white lines detailing the surface and in the center was a green and black symbol that reminded Jim of an hourglass.

As if in a trance Jim walked towards it, stretching his arm out when he was only a foot away.

All of a sudden the thing actually jumped!

"Ahhhh"!!! he screamed as the thing wrapped firmly around his wrist, he flayed his arm around trying to throw the strange thing away from him.

"Get off! Get off"!!! Jim shouted over again, he did everything he could think of to get rid of the watch. From trying to pry it off with his hands, rolling on the ground, to then grabbing a fallen branch and trying to wedge it underneath the watch. 

Only for it to snap in half.

   "You gotta be kidding me”! Said Jim as he kneeled down on the dirt.

Jim started at the strange watch again, studying for some kind of seam or lock he could pick at. Looking at the circular center where the hour-glass was, curiously Jim twisted it and surprisingly the watch beeped and a portion of the watch lifted up. Not releasing Jim’s wrist but strangely the hour-glass symbol shifted revealing a vague black figure.

Curious and without thinking Jim pressed on the dial.

The moment that the center of the watch was press though an emerald light enveloped the space around him, blinding the teen.

Jim felt something strange come over him, a strange surge of energy course throughout his body.

He felt his skin crack open, his bones stretched and broadened, a feeling of intense warmth came over him that left his head feeling dizzy!

What was happening!?

What was this watch doing to him!

He gave a gargled choke before everything finally seemed to settle down, by then the light was gone.

Jim cracked his eye unsteadily, the nervously lifted his hand up.

Only to Jims horror his skinny wrist had been replaced with a large bright fiery arm. His skin was cracked and speckled with hot red rocks like magma. His digits a glowing yellow like the embers of a deep furnace.

He..he was..

"I'm on fire" he breathed before screaming, "I'M ON FIRE"!!!!

He slapped at his arms trying to extinguish the flames and blowing on them with his non-existent breath, but nothing worked.

The only reason he stopped was when he didn’t feel the expected agonizing pain that stories his mom told from work warned him about.

Stopping Jim studied his new hands.

Again there was no pain.

“Hey, I’m on fire” he said “And I’m okay”

Feeling a certain pressure on his fingertips Jim flicked his fingers and immediately sparks of flames danced on his palms.

“Check it out”! he found himself laughing “I’m totally hot”!

Jim eyed a tree behind him, then using the same pressure he made a finger gun motion and sent a sphere of fire that practically snapped the tree in two.

“Now thats what I’m talking about”! cried Jim.

Whatever the watch was, whatever it did to him, just made his life so much more interesting!

This was amazing!

Incredible! 

“I gotta tell Toby” he realized

Jim in his new fiery body, quickly made his way out of the woods.

His path was far more illuminated now.

_______________________________________

Kanjigar looked worryingly down at the metal casing in front of him.

Just as Vendel had suggested he kept his eyes on the heavens, leaving Trollmarket he still had doubts in the visions he had received but those all evaporated as he saw something glowing fly through the air and land somewhere in the forest of Arcadia.

Quickly getting his bearings the Trollhunter navigated through the woods to where the light fell.

He found the crater and traveled down into it.

Seeing the casing he studied it and from a distant memory realized this was no material made on earth, but from the stars.

This was his vision!

Only….the case was worryingly empty.

“What were you holding” asked Kanjigar as he lifted the item up “And where is it now”? 

#ben 10 fanfiction #ben 10 #trollhunters #jim lake jr #toby domzalski #kanjigar #draal the deadly #trollhunters draal #trollhunters vendel #crossover

[danmainacc]

MY REASON | ONE

pairing: leonardo hamato x black! fem! reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst, character death, fluff, tooth-rotting love, depression, trauma, limes, profanity, i’ll add more if i remember

a/n: so this is a rottmnt movie fic, with heavy emphasis on the time during the apocalypse. and i spell Kraang like this. i just feel like it makes sense. oh, and Leo gets sent into the portal along with Casey.

...

“Alright, little ones. Let’s go through it one more time,” you warmly smiled, the young class humans and yokai looking at you starry-eyed.

“If there is a Kraang attack and you are in the base, you are to--.” “Go straight to Master Donatello’s lab and follow his instruction,�� the children perfectly recited.

You grinned, “That’s right! Good job. Now, if you get separated from the group, you are to--.” “Run straight to First Cave, no looking back, and wait until a commander comes to get me,” they nailed, yet again.

You clapped, plastering a silly expression on your face, a few giggles scattering around the room.

“Fantastic! You guys are really pros at this,” you nodded, leaning forward in your chair as you took in every face, a black-haired boy beaming brightly at you from the front row.

“Hi, mom!” He whisper-yelled, his knees happily flapping in his criss-cross position.

“Hey, Case!” you whispered back, matching his enthusiasm in your wave. 

The entire class now erupted in snickers and hushed giggles, and it was moments like this, where you couldn’t help but feel your guiltiest.

“Alright, alright. Last one,” you hushed, putting the dark thoughts on the back burner as the class quieted. “The most important one: No matter how scary it is, always remember--.” “Hope is a ninja’s greatest weapon!” the children cheered, jumping up from their seats.

You did your best to keep it together, a tear or two slipping down your cheeks at the sight, but you were quick to catch yourself.

‘They don’t deserve this.’

“When I get older, I’ll be the best mystic warrior there is! Even better than Master Mikey,” Tina, a 7-year old human, proudly smirked, swirling her arms around like Mikey does when he makes his infinity chains.

“Pssh. Yeah, right!” Jackal, an 8-year old dog-yokai, scoffed. “I’m gonna be just like Commander Raph! Tough as nails.”

“Don’t get too excited. You guys still have a long way to go,” a familiar voice smirked.

‘Shit.’

“Master Leonardo!” the children exclaimed, absolutely awe-struck.

And of course, there he was, standing at the entrance of the dojo, leaning against the door frame, reminding you of how he would randomly show up to your house, standing against your bedroom door the same way.

Back in the old days.

You quickly wiped the rest of your tears, thankful the kids were too distracted to notice, and that your position made it so that your face couldn’t be seen from the door-er-hole in the wall.

“Master Leonardo, can you tell us the Picca legend again? Pretty please!” Tina begged, tugging at Leo’s pant leg.

“You dummy, it’s Pizza,” Jackal teased, snickering to himself.

“Ugh, same thing!” Tina scoffed, pouting.

Leo laughed at the exchange, giving Tina a firm pat on the head. “Next time.”

He took wide strides towards you, and almost immediately noticed you had something on your mind. Something serious.

“Hi, dad,” Casey quickly whispered, frantically waving as Leo stood at the front of the class.

“Hey, kiddo,” Leo waved back, giving his son a warm smile.

The children noticed how frequently his glance shifted to you, and Tina knew exactly what it meant.

“Ooooo! Master Leonardo’s here for Commander (y/n),” she cooed, letting out a dreamy sigh as she clutched her heart.

The rest of the girls sighed, while the boys let out strained gags and groans. 

“Disgusting,” Jackal stuck out his tongue, crossing his arms.

A tinge of blush grew on your cheeks as you turned to Leo for assistance, only to see he was already looking at you with his trademarked, shit-eating grin.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Alright, guys. How about you go help Commander O’Neil collect some blankets for tonight. Casey, can you lead the way?” You focused back onto the kids, shooting your son a quick wink.

His eyes lit up. “Can do!” He smiled, jumping up from his spot and running towards the door. “Everyone! Follow me!”

The children cheered, quickly getting up and following the boy, shouts of excitement echoing throughout the dojo.

“Commander (y/n),” a small voice tugged at your leg.

Both you and Leo tugged your attention from the door and down to the small child at your feet.

It was Axis, an 8-year old crow-yokai. You were her mentor, as you were an expert in yokai abilities, seeing you were a fire-yokai yourself.

“Hey, Axis. What’s up?” You asked with a smile, picking her up and placing her on your lap, wary of her talons.

“I...I saw you crying before and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she nervously started, fidgeting with some of her feathers.

You tensed at the mention, Leo’s eyes now burning into the back of your head.

‘Axis, sometimes you are too sweet.’

With a sigh, you forced a hollow smile, stroking the feathers on her head. “I’m alright. I’m just incredibly proud of you guys. You’re taking leaps and bounds, man,” you assured.

“Who knows? Soon I might be calling you Commander Axis.”

You could practically see her heart grow three sizes at your words.

And after a moment of contemplation, she threw her wings around your neck and pulled you into a tight hug. “I love you, Commander (y/n),” she smiled.

Your eyes shot wide at her words and her action, Leo letting out a quiet gasp as well. 

Axis was never the emotional type, so these words seemed to be coming out of left field.

And despite her words, you could tell that she knew there was still something wrong.

‘Her emotional intelligence always gets me.’

“I love you, too, kiddo,” You smiled, genuinely, as you returned the hug.

And after a few seconds she let go, hopping off your lap and landing of the floor. “Alright, see you later, Commander (y/n)! See you later, Master Leonardo!” She smiled as she flew out the room to join the other children.

“Bye, kid,” Leo smiled, waving as she soared.

You sighed, standing up from your seat as you stretched out your back.

“Hey, hon,” you tiredly smiled, giving the blue clad turtle a quick peck on the lips,  before starting your way towards the exit.

“Whoa, there. Don’t think you’re getting away that easy,” he smirked, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into him, your cheek now resting on his plastron.

“C’mon, Leo. I gotta get to the Mess Hall and help Todd with dinner,” you sighed, resting your hands on his shoulders as you looked up at him.

He craned his head so his lips were just barely touching your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck. “I know you’ve got something on your mind,” he whispered, his hands resting on your hips, the fit not so different from a puzzle piece.

“And I’ve got time on my hands,” he lowered his head to your neck, placing three hot and heavy kisses leading to your collarbone, which would definitely bruise later.

“So start spilling.”

You practically melted at his tone, a lazy smile stretching across your face as the resting hands on your waist now wrapped around, pulling you closer to the turtle.

It never fails to amaze how he could still do this to you, make you smile and nod at whatever he said like a lovesick teen.

“I just...We.......The kids don’t deserve this,” you caved, struggling to find the words as you hung your head. 

Leo’s brow bone quirked in intrigue, silently telling me to go on.

“Living like this. Existing like this. Most of these kids can barely say their ABCs, but can fire one of Donnie’s bazookas,” you threw an exasperated hand in the air, glancing up at Leo, who was listening intently. 

“I’m worried about their innocence. Seeing so much death and destruction at such a young age is going to hurt them in the long run. And I just feel like I could be doing something about it. But on top of helping Todd, patrols, watching the nursery, missions, and Casey, I just don’t have the time to help in any other way.”

The tears started to bubble up again, your breathing becoming uneven as you took a deep sniffle, resting your head on Leo’s shoulder.

He sighed, stroking your back as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

As per usual, you were trying to hyper-extend yourself in order to help everyone but yourself, and as per usual, he felt partially responsible, wanting nothing more than to make it all go away. 

Not a day goes by where he thinks that if he had never screwed up, the world would be a better place. That if it weren’t for him, the fall of Earth would’ve never happened.

And in connection, you wouldn’t be what you are now.

The rest of the camp knows you as this fearless fighter, who’s kept her smile and sense of humor despite the circumstances, proudly teaching the next generation of heroes.

But he knew better.

Behind every laugh, every hollow smile, every silly face, he could tell you were breaking. You were a caricature of who you were pre-invasion.

“I think you should take a break, let someone help out. I can--.” “No,” you quickly shut down, lifting your face from his shoulder and looking him dead in the eyes.

He gave you a confused look, tilting his head at your sudden snappiness.

“You responsibilities are too important. You protect the camp and lead the resistance. I’m just complaining. I should really go help Todd,” and just like that, your mask was back.

Just as you were pulling out of the hug, Leo grabbed you by the back of the head and smashed his lips on yours, the force practically knocking the wind out of you.

Sometimes he didn’t know his own strength.

If it was humanly possible, he tightened the grip around your waist, and you sighed, kissing back with just as much force, your arms wrapping around his neck.

After a minute or so, you both separated with a gasp, your dazed, lazy smile making him lightly chuckle.

“Still got it,” he smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him and he rested his hand on your cheek, his cheeky grin now turning sincere.

“We’re in this together, mi amor, don’t forget it. Take a break and let some of the newer fighters take some of your responsibilities, just to lighten the load,” he smiled, resting his forehead on yours.

“Can’t have my wife getting too stressed.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you carefully held the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft, meaningful kiss.

And as quick as it came, it left.

“What would I do without you?” you smiled, laying your head on his plastron.

“I could say the same to you, sweetheart,” he smirked, resting his chin on your head.

...

#rottmnt leonardo #leonardo hamato #leo rottmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #nickelodeon #rottmnt movie

[whoneedslovewhenyouhaveknives]

A small masterpost of all my current Genshin Impact AUs

(Please, please, if you have any questions about these, want me to flesh something out/elaborate a little, or just wanna add your own two-cents, ask me! I'd be overjoyed to hear what other people think of these!)

red like roses, red like your hair (red like the blood you swore that we share)

(Papa Diluc & Traveler Tania AU)

During his Fatui-hunting travels, Diluc finds a young girl shivering in the snow, stars in her eyes and tales on her tongue of a kingdom long-dead going up in flames.

At first, Diluc takes her with out of love for the brother he had "lost". Later, he takes her in out of love for the little girl he had found.

Much, much later, when an unknown god appears before them and strikes, casting the daughter through space and the father through time, it's up to starry-eyed Tania to get her Papa back, come what may.

~*~

my heart must be a hurricane (why else am i spitting up cecilias?)

(Venti Has Hanahaki AU)

It is said that Hanahaki bloomed into being during the Archon War, even though the Archons did not know how it was created.

All anyone knew was that the only way to stop the flowers was "a love requited as it was given". Romantic love for romantic, familial for familial, platonic for platonic.

Little does everyone know, however, that one Archon does know the origins for Hanahaki. After all, Barbatos was the first to contract it.

~*~

‘til death do us part

(Suicidal Diluc AU)

When Diluc goes up to Starsnatch Cliff to jump, he's surprised to see someone already there. A teenaged assistant to Flora, by the name of Aster.

Diluc and Aster are both looking to end their lives, but neither want to see the other dead, so Aster suggests a solution: They meet up again, a week later, on the same day. If only one of them shows up, that person gets to jump. If they both show up, they both have to wait another week.

Diluc agrees.

~*~

tempus fugit

(Reincarnated Istaroth AU)

Istaroth never expected to wake up again, much less in the body of a child.

Nevertheless, she's delighted to walk Teyvat once more, and her beloved son Barbatos is overjoyed seeing her again. She even met his dear paramour, Morax.

Even so... why was her body so battered when she first woke? Why does it look ever-so-slightly familiar? ...And who does she keep seeing, out of the corner of her eye?

#genshin impact #genshin impact au #time for the personal tags! #red like roses au #spitting up cecilias au #'til death do us part au #tempus fugit au #I have a lot more for these AUs! #just uh #think of these as kinda teasers #diluc ragnvindr #venti #hanahaki #istaroth #remember: if you're curious- ask! #I'd be overjoyed to ramble about these AUs!

[neonpaperlanterns]

Addicted to this Chapter two

Chapter two: Upon First Contact

[Part One] [Part Three]

So things hadn’t turned out exactly how Felix expected. She didn’t act in the way he had desired or how he had grown used to. It was frustrating. It was annoying. It was… It was intriguing. 

What was the saying? No plan survives initial contact with the enemy? 

Yeah sure that sounds right. Probably. He has never had this problem before. Everything he does always goes perfectly. Always.

But here he is. Outside of Charlie’s office once again ready with a different idea. Okay so maybe it’s just like the first idea. But this time it’s a new injury and this time no one got the drop on him. He was just being so damn heroic and took a knife to the shoulder for some rando New Republic soldier. 

They had sung his praise. Telling him if there was anything they could do to repay him just let them know. 

Ah to be appreciated.

Now he just needed the good doctor to appreciate him as well. Which he knew she would because he just let himself get stabbed. He deserved to be fawned over by that pretty little medic. 

But when he was helped into her office by that starry eyed drone he was met with a less than impressed stare.

Alright so this was off to not the best start but he could recover. 

“You got hurt again.” Charlie sounded tired as she cleaned the wound. He wanted to tell himself that she was concerned about him but really she just seemed disappointed.

“I would expect someone like you to be more careful.” Felix winced as she carefully began to stitch his skin back together. Really he envied Locus sometimes. He got to work with the ones with the advanced armor and medical equipment. While he was stuck in a dingy hole with nothing better than needle and thread.

Though he was sure Locus didn’t have a one Doctor Charlotte Rose so really he had the better end of the deal.

“Well I couldn’t just let…” He paused, who was that person again? They probably told him their name but he just couldn’t be bothered to remember.

“Evans?” Charlie supplied as she began working on the front of his shoulder. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. It was adorable to see her so focused. 

“Yeah Evans. I couldn’t just let him get hurt.” Her eyes darted up and he was given another fleeting glance of being everything to her. 

God he was going to chase this feeling. 

“I suppose.” She was frowning as she cut off the excess thread. He watched as she placed the slightly bloodied needle on a metal tray and peeled off her gloves. She had long slim fingers with faint scars littering her left hand. 

He wanted to touch them.

“Alright you’re all patched up. Come back in about two weeks and I will remove the stitches. Until then please go easy on your shoulder.” She was turned away from him washing her hands. She was so very thorough, it was cute. Sliding up to her side he leaned against the counter and cocked an eyebrow.

“And what if I come back sooner?” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose as she walked away from him. A heavy sigh left her as her shoulders slumped.

“Are you planning on getting injured again?” She settled into her chair behind the desk and rested her head in her hands. She looked tired and like she didn’t want him here. Which couldn’t possibly be true. He was just seeing things.

“No but-” She cut him off with another sigh.

“Felix if you are not in need of medical assistance then do not waste my time.” He felt his stomach drop to the floor. Waste her time? He was not wasting her time. He was elevating it! His mere presence gave the lessers hope that there would be a better tomorrow. How could he possibly be wasting her time?

HOW!

“Excuse me?” His voice came out oddly quiet as he approached her.

“I have more important things to deal with than you.” Oh that was harsh. That was uncalled for. That was just utterly untrue. He was important, he was the only reason this rebellion is managing anything.

He was fucking important.

Felix paused in his approach as he saw fear flicker across Charlie’s face. He tilted his head to the side as he watched her try and collect herself. 

“Leave.” Her voice came out shaky. Well wasn’t that just adorable. He had to control his expression. While he had to say Charlie looked good all wide eyed and afraid he didn’t want that. He wanted her to look at him as if he was the answer to every question and doubt she ever had. 

When he had her worshiping him on her knees he would play with that fear but not right now.

Letting out a sigh of his own he turned his gaze to the ground. Swallowing thickly he ran his hand through his hair.

“Okay I’ll leave.” He spoke as softly as he could muster. Glancing back up at her he blinked a few times. His eyes became glassy as he hurried out of the infirmary. He will give her a few days, let her racing heart calm before he comes back. He’s sure when she has had time to think about what she has done she’ll feel guilty. He’s done so much for this lost cause, he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

So he just had to work a little harder. Which was fine. Felix didn’t mind the challenge.

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb felix #original female character #felix x oc #stab wounds #manipulation #i am having so much fun with this #obsessives behaviors #massive ego #felix thinks it's kinda cute when Charlie is afraid #that's not normal my man

[vctlan]

“plots please” (for cloud & barret (: )

⤏ send me “plots please”

cloud strife

1 | pre-cc / before cloud meeting zack, cloud set as part of the assisting group to one of angeal's missions and he's very obviously starry eyed yet jealous of his status as SOLDIER

2 | au, during crisis core, but the twist is zack's vision of angeal is real... and the last thing he sees before he dies of mako poisoning. angeal is the one who rescues cloud out of a sense of HONOR.

3 | post-ac, the history he's unaware of catches up to him, and cloud feels drawn to a glimpse of a man he feels he should know, but wonders if it's right to dig up those who are already at rest

barret wallace

1 | angeal was part the team tasked with "eliminating rebel forces" in corel :) he is complicit and barret remembers him as the face of the operation that ruined his home town :) where's the honor in that :)

2 | angeal never dies, but remains deserted from shinra, and actively works against them, going as far as selling information to one of the rebel factions in midgar

3 | both of them working together in the wro post games & ac, and stories are exchanged between them, with their pasts clashing but ultimately long since settled in the dust, with both of them having their fair share of regrets

#( ask reply ) #a good variety i think! #annjiru

[applesharonfiction]

Jayvik week prompt #3 (alternate meeting: Professor Viktor AU)

Viktor raises an eyebrow and nods. “What did you think of the lecture?”

“I thought it was brilliant! All of it.”

“What are you studying at the academy, Mister Talis?”

Jayce grips his notebook tightly to his chest. He suddenly wishes he could tell Viktor what he’s really studying in his spare time.

Somehow, he thinks Viktor would understand.

“Crystallography,” he says.

I wasn’t going to post these outside of the collection but I really enjoyed this one and now want to make an entire story out of it lmao. Enjoy Viktor as a professor at the Zaun College of Techmaturgy and Jayce as an arrogant-turned-starry-eyed assistant to Dean Heimerdinger thing. 

Will turn into something more probably and/or with interest.

Story below the cut.

It’s rare that he notices architecture or art or anything outside of his own experiments but even Jayce takes a moment to stop on the ropeways near the lift and listen to the wind whistling through the iron bridges that cross the harbour canyon.

The Zaun College of Techmaturgy is just as intimidating as Jayce thought it would be, and far more beautiful.

“Why do I have to go to this thing again? With all due respect, Professor Heimerdinger, I promise I’d be much more productive staying—”

“Jayce, that arrogant attitude is unbecoming of an academy student,” the professor says, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

Jayce opens his mouth to say that there are other students around who are a lot more arrogant than he is, but Heimerdinger cuts him off.

“And is certainly not the attitude I want from my own assistant. The fellows at the college are not only excellent scholars in their own rights but are on the cutting edge of robotics and cybernetics.”

“You mean human experiments?” Jayce presses.

The professor sighs and draws himself up to his full height, making himself as intimidating as his diminutive stature allows.

To the professor’s credit, Jayce is fairly intimidated.

Sighing, Jayce crosses the bridge towards the Cybernetics department. The first lecture that the professor had wanted to attend starts in five minutes.

As Jayce hurriedly slides into the lecture hall, he notes that it’s already standing room only.

“Is this guy a big shot or what?” Jayce whispers to the woman next to him.

She glares at him and pushes up her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Professor Ivanov is the foremost cybernetics researcher at the college. He also has degrees in robotics and mechanical engineering.”

Jayce holds his hands up and his notebook to stop what he suspects will be a lengthy list of the professor’s accomplishments.

“He’s smart, got it,” he says. The woman continues to glare at him until he hears the loud chatter of the room quickly die down.

“Hello all and welcome!” A soft, accented voice fills the room, accompanied by a loud squeak from his microphone.

“Erm…sorry for…sorry about that,” the man says. “With all of my augmentations, I have not yet discovered a solution to the most basic acoustic problems!”

Polite laughter ripples through the crowd.

Jayce turns his eyes to the front of the room and gasps.

A slight, beautiful man with auburn hair stands on the centre dais. He leans on a cane with a wry grin, gesturing at his own mechanical leg.

“As most of you know I am Viktor. Please none of this Professor Ivanov, if you are from here you know.”

Another laugh travels through the crowd.

Jayce doesn’t understand but smiles anyway.

For the next hour, Jayce watches the man (Viktor) animatedly describe and diagram groundbreaking research in robotics and cybernetics. He outlines how these advancements can help war veterans — a shadow passes over his face that Jayce immediately wants banish forever — and injured chemical plant workers among myriad other applications.

Jayce thinks back to his initial complaints to Professor Heimerdinger and punches himself in the leg out of frustration at his own stupidity.

“And that concludes my lecture for today. Thank you all for your attendance.” Viktor gives a polite bow, crossing his arm in front of his body and tapping his cane on the floor for emphasis.

Jayce nearly runs towards his desk, jostling shoulders and elbows with several others looking for Viktor’s time and attention.

It takes over a half hour for him to turn to Jayce, who now notices large purple bruising underneath his eyes and an exhausted slump in his shoulders.

Still, Viktor’s smile is warm and inviting.

Jayce wasn’t expecting that. He stares, cataloguing the small mole near Viktor’s lips and another one under his eye.

Viktor coughs loudly and covers his mouth with a gloved hand. “How may I help you mister…?”

“Are you okay?” Jayce blurts out.

Narrowing his eyes, Viktor studies Jayce, taking in his academy uniform. A light flickers in his amber eyes.

“You are a long way from the Piltover Academy of Sciences.”

“I’m Jayce! Jayce Talis!” He holds out his hand. “I’m the assistant to the dean, Professor Heimerdinger.”

“Ah…the professor, yes. He sent you?”

“He sends his regards,” Jayce says. The professor hadn’t told him to interact with any of the lecturers but Jayce needs to think of some excuse for introducing himself. “He’s sorry he couldn’t be here himself.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow and nods. “What did you think of the lecture?”

“I thought it was brilliant! All of it.”

“What are you studying at the academy, Mister Talis?”

Jayce grips his notebook tightly to his chest. He suddenly wishes he could tell Viktor what he’s really studying in his spare time.

Somehow, he thinks Viktor would understand.

“Crystallography,” he says.

#jayvik #jayvik week #jayce and viktor #arcane fanfic #arcane

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well and have been taking good care of yourself. I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if I could request something for Itto that’s been eating and my brain for days now.

Could I please ask for Itto with a well-known alchemist s/o? They’re from Sumeru, have a Dendro Vision and are quite intelligent?

Thanks and have a lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening <3

Hello, luv! Sorry, this is a bit late but I had so much fun making it and I hope you enjoy it! Kisses!!

Arataki Itto x alchemist!dendro!reader:

You Never Cease to Amaze Me ༻Arataki Itto༺

Short Headcanon:

Do not at any cost let this man near fire or anything flammable. It happened once and it took months for a part of his hair to grow back, on top of healing from the burn he got from attempting to fight said fire.

You were designing an experiment and setting up for it, it was crucial that everything go according to the procedures, or else the consequences could be dire. You made sure of this by telling your assistant to keep people out of the tent you were in just to be sure. Now, because you were doing some exploring in Inazuma because of the vision decree left, you figured it would be the perfect time to ask people some questions and get some research done before anyone else did. What you didn’t plan for was the Head of the Oni gang taking an interest in you and constantly flirting with you whenever you saw him, it wasn’t even good flirting considering all he talked about was himself and how he could protect you from anything. If you remember correctly he once tried to beatbox a song for you because of your arrival back from a small excursion. Making it a big deal that you were successful and wouldn’t stop hanging around you (not that you minded but he was always poking around your lab and asking questions as he picked different things up). Currently, you were mixing some solubles that weren't necessarily dangerous but would stain you permanently if it spilled (also releasing a gas that you didn’t know was harmful), hearing some commotion outside you blocked it out and went on with your work. All of a sudden, a certain Oni sauntered in full of pride and ego and leaned his elbow against your work desk. “Well, Y/N it’s you! Man, I bet you missed me, the one and Oni Arataki Itto (yes that's actually a voice line)! Whatcha working on?” Shaking your head, you were still focused on the vials you were holding and observing them. “I’m working, Itto. Can you please leave, these chemicals are very unstable and I don’t want you to get hurt.” You could tell the brute was pouting from the lack of attention he was getting but you couldn’t help honestly, what you were saying was the truth. Rolling your eyes as you motioned for him to come closer and smiling at the quick-expression change, now wearing a bright starry-eyed smile. “Here, you can help if you want-” Combing back his hair, he stepped forward, “Of course! So what do I do? Do I just pour this green liquid with the blue one?” “NO! Don’t-” It was a bit too late as the mixture started to bubble and smoke, you backed away and were abruptly snatched up by the cause of the incident. Both of you made it out in time for the tent to heave smoke out and land on Itto’s chest. He had just saved you (avoiding the fact that he caused it) and you were now in his arms. The feel of his strong warm arms curled around you protectively felt wondrous and amazing totally natural considering what happened and pushing down the thoughts that had come up about how attractive Arataki Itto really was (even if he was a slight narcissist). After making sure everything and you more importantly were okay he got up with you still in his arms and laughed. “Huh! Lucky I was here or else you might have been hurt, just another day being the great Oni Itto!” Smirking at his surroundings and feeling a bit of pride when he noticed you were flustered. Itto gave you a wink and kissed your cheek, “How about we go find some of the materials that blew up, huh?”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #arataki x reader #arataki itto #arataki itto oneshot #genshin fluff #fluff #request

[keilemlucent]

if you are interested, i would like to present my dear salem with hero hawks and his little horny crush on his innocent assistant bc man’s corruption kink go brrrrrr😇

okay look LOOK i have... such a thing for hawks getting a h*rd on for his sweet, far-too kind PA.

(NSFW)

word count: 2.5k

warnings: dubcon, coersion, (a little bit of) yandere hawks, reader wears lingerie, reader is sorta oblivious,  sugar daddy hawks, scumbag hawks, power imbalance, hawks is a manipulative bastard but its hot so who cares <3

...

“Are you sure this is... appropriate, sir?” 

No, no, definitely not, not at all. Taking his sweet, desperately-in-need-of-a-break PA out on a little shopping spree was definitely crossing a lot of professional lines, but how could he care? He was far more focused on the wobbly way ‘sir’ had dripped off your tongue.

It wasn’t sin, but he’d get you there, he was quite persuasive. 

The little shopping trip (literally) landed you at a luxury mall across Fukuoka, many-floored and lavishing decorated with twinkling, bright bulbs and crystal on every fixture. The stores were expensive, too expensive for you to afford on your own but Keigo knew how hard you’d been working! All that extra paperwork (he’d been purposefully giving you because it kept you around the office later and more often) had been getting done beautifully, and you deserved a treat. Many of them. 

Consider it an early bonus.

You already had quite a few bags dangling off your arms, the cords and ribbons digging into your arms (god, he wished he could make some marks of his own--). And Keigo had decided to treat you to one, final stop. He guided you to the store entrance with a hand on your lower back.

God help you, a lingerie store.

Nothing cheap, only custom-made and designer pieces. It was more of a boutique, some places private where no one would bother the two of you. 

He watched your expression, the pull of your brows and the way your pupils dilated. It might’ve been from a bit of ill-placed stress, but he’s sure he can get your eyes just as inky other ways, if given the opportunity. 

“This is remarkably appropriate, dove,” He hummed and ushered you inside the store entrance, flashing a grin to the starry-eyed salesclerk. His hand drifted downward, just over the upper curves of your ass, just to watch you squirm. “Consider it a reward! You’ve been doing so much good for me and the agency, you deserve a treat or two, don’t you think?”

You shifted the bags on your arms and dared to meet his gaze with your own, meek and wide, “I-I think this is more than ‘a treat or two’--”

“Then shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, thanking me for my generosity then?” Keigo smirked as your expression faltered. You were way too easy and god, he fucking loved it.

Before you had a chance to fret anymore, he assured you quietly that everything was alright. A bit of praise to ice the pinpricks he left behind. He shooed you into the fitting rooms, pointing a beaming smile at a clerk and getting to work. 

He’d have you spoiled, whether you liked it or not.

...

You sat on the plush bench of the fitting room, hands in fist and lip tucked between your teeth. You chewed on it, swallowing around your dry throat. Hawks’ voice drifted back from the salesfloor, though you couldn’t tell what he was saying. You could pick up words like ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’ and you could only assume the words were about the bright-eyed, big-titted employee you saw when you walked in.

You squeeze the fabric of your skirt and tried to let some of the tension in your shoulders dissipate. 

“Oh, wow, dove, the selection they have here is amazing!” Hawks whistled as he returned to the fitting room, alone, carrying an armful of padded, velvet hangers. 

“I can imagine,” You wished you could have looked around a bit yourself, but Hawks had a much better eye for these things than you did. You were very fortunate to have him around. 

He arranged them on a gold railing nearby, wings tucked to his back as to not crowd the small space of the dressing room.

It was truly just a single room, though it was large enough. Six-sided, each wall complete with a well-padded, velvet bench seat to idle on. The middle of the room had a little raised platform, leading to three, angled mirrors. They were massive and felt a bit too revealing as Hawks hummed to himself nearby.

The only thing separating you from the rest of the store was a heavy, velvet draping. 

Hawks plopped onto the cushion next to you, letting out a deep sigh and leaning back. You watched him, gaze flickering from the garments on the rack and the exposed patch of his chest visible from the unpopped buttons of his shirt. 

His feathers brushed up against your arm and you shuddered.

“Now, sweet thing,” He clicked his tongue, jerking his gaze to the hangers. “I picked out some pretty sweet pieces for you. Why don’t you try them on and let me know what you think, hm?”

You nodded, though your stomach felt like there was suddenly lead in it. From the looks of the lace and silks, those pieces weren't going to cover much of anything. You mentally sparred with yourself.

It’s not... that bad. It’s not like he’s going to see anything more than he would if you were wearing a swimsuit. 

Besides, this a gift, right? You should at least show him what he’d paid for on an actual body. 

He had you so well-trained--

You stood, moving to the rack on shaking legs and examining the pieces.

They’re all... a bit whorish. None of those soft babydolls and teddies that folks wore in those softcore pornos that you definitely never watched. The pieces Hawks picked for you aren’t the least bit modest. They’re all lace, mesh, and ribbons. Stockings and garters that looked like they might be a tich too snug. You grab the least garish-looking piece. 

And Hawks was still in the room, body lax and slumped against the cushions.

His eyes lazily opened, a bushy brow-raising, “You good, dove?” 

“... Aren’t you gonna step out?” 

He chuckled and you knew you were fucked. Just not literally, not yet. 

“Why the hell would I do that?” Hawks laughed and righted himself. His vibrant gold eyes bore into yours, though they looked more black than topaz by that point. 

You swallowed. 

“I would prefer if you d-did.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice oozed something that made your knees weak. “What then? I know you don’t like disappointing me.”

You didn’t, but this was a bit far. ‘A bit’. 

“... s-sir, please,” You begged, albeit quietly. 

This was crossing lines. As much as Hawks gave you special treatment at the agency, literally and figuratively taking you under his wing and tending to your needs as he saw them and has he saw fit, stripping and playing dress-up in expensive lingerie definitely was too far.

As much as part of you adored the attention, you tried to keep that quiet. Stuffed down and hidden. Hawks was your boss, and you had to keep yourself occupied with his busy schedule and mountains of paperwork, lest you allow yourself to dissolve into thinking his attentions were anything other than favoritism. 

Oh my god, you really were that dense

“’Please’?” Hawks cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips curling. “‘Please’ what, dovey? Tell me.”

You let out a shaking breath, “Hawks, this is remarkably inappropriate--” 

“Maybe,” He cuts you off swiftly, a flap of his wings pushing him to his feet and directly in front of you. “You just need some help? That’s it?”

Your mouth went dry. He wasn’t wrong, not really. 

“That’s all, huh?” Hawks ran a hand through his hair, his wings curling around the room, too-wide and fluffed for the small space. “Should’ve just said something. I imagine you don’t do this kind of thing often.”

“N-no, I don’t.”

Does anyone? 

“That’s alright, I know you try your best and just need that extra push, hm?” Hawks sighed, deep in his chest. 

With the scarlet swallowing your peripheral vision, you feel like you’re suffocating. Maybe in a good way. You nodded, pliant.

He always knows you. What you want, what you crave, what you need. 

Nimble fingers untucked your blouse from your waist, and you yipped at the chill of his fingers. He was undeterred, loosening the garment and immediately going for the buttons.

One by one, they came undone and you wrap your arms tighter around your middle. Hawks ogled, openly and without a care. It made something in you writhe, but you still wanted more of it. His attention, overt affections that supposedly mean nothing-- you want it.

He slid the blouse from your shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. You watched as his feather shuddered, rippling as he let out a few harsh breaths. You knew how you must look, hot and flushed to the touch. Bare on your upper half, sans a cheap bra that had seen better. 

“Are you sure--” You weren’t sure what you were going to ask, but Hawks didn’t let you say it besides.

“Yes, of course, obviously,’” He licked his goddamn lips. A taloned-finger caught the pilling strap of your bra, snapping it against your shoulder. “Besides, look at this! Can’t have you representing the agency, me, and my brand wearing shit like this.”

Something burned in your gut, some mix of shame and arousal that was threatening to spill from the wet corners of your eyes. 

Hawks dropped to his knees, so fast you hardly could register it. His hands hooked in your skirt by the first two knuckles and tugged and he went down. The sound of splitting fabric cracked in the air, and your skirt fell to the floor in tatters.

And Hawks, the fucker, hovered just inches away from your covered cunt. The cheap cotton of your panties did nothing to shield you from the hot breath that he fanned over you.

“H-Hawks!” You cried out, attempting to push at his shoulders with sweaty palms. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just taking a closer look,” He gave you no time to protest as those quick fingers of his pulled the elastic of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. He had the decency to tap your ankles, one at a time, so you could step out of the garment. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You let him. 

Perhaps you should’ve protested a bit more. Maybe. But it wasn’t like this wasn’t your wildest fantasy. Your sweet, too-kind boss, spoiling you. You weren’t sure if you’d thought about Hawks that way at first, but he had gotten to you at some point. The impromptu lunches, the late nights together, the walks and flights home. There was even that one he’d managed to wrestle a guy getting too handsy at a club with (how had he known you’d even been there?)

Hawks unclipped your bra, throwing the thing to the side with a  look akin to disgust. He snatched the hanger and garment from your hand and nodded toward the platform.

“Stand over there like a good girl for me, okay? Don’t take your eyes off yourself.”

You couldn’t disobey him, could you?

You’d seen what he did to people who crossed him, when it really mattered. He didn’t put his heart or energy into something unless he really, actually cared. And the handful of times you’d seen that go to shit had left memories of sharpened feathers and terror-filled eyes in their wake.

But you were good for him. His assistant who always made sure his meetings lined up with his patrols, and that everything was brief unless entirely necessary otherwise. You were the one who made sure he had caffeine nearby and a full belly, even on his most busy of days. 

He’d never do anything other than be kind, right?

You didn’t want to find out otherwise. 

He approached you from behind, the silk of the garment tucked over his arm. His eyes looked predatory, gleaming and inky. 

He only stopped when his chest is flush to your back, hands finding their home just above your hips with a squeeze. You shuddered at the feeling, new and raw and you couldn’t tell if you hated or loved it. 

“I want to see how this looks on you, god,” Hawks groaned, nails biting into your skin. “Hold still for me, dove.”

You did.

You didn’t dare move an inch as Hawks took his sweet time dressing you up. The garment is silken straps, the lace wrapping around the curves of your hips and chest, securely with expert bows that he pats into place after each one.

It was impossible to ignore the bulge pressing into your ass. Even as he pulled the pair of panties between your cheeks, stroking the lace and the fat with a wide palm, you were far more focused on the heat and hardness slowly grinding at the other cheek.

He tied you up expertly, and you watched in the mirrors, seeing each angle of it. The way his hands squeezed and pulled at your flesh along the way. The hungry glint in his eyes as he traced your figure. The way his wings seemed to shake and flutter in tandem with your short, quick breaths.

You were truly at his mercy. 

“Look at that,” He whistled low, grabbing your jaw and pulling your gaze just where he’d like. “Tied up like a pretty present I told you this would be good, didn’t I?”

“Y-You did.”

Hawks sighed, draping himself over your shoulders and nuzzling into your neck. You could feel the part of his plush lips, the way they drag over your skin. You swore you a nip or two.

His gaze met yours in the mirror. One of his hands trailed low, very low, sliding over top of the lace panties and cupping your sex. His index fingers lazily traced your lips through the fabric, idle. His other went to grope your chest, more insistent as he palmed at you, pinching a nipple as you began to sputter. 

A warbled moan cracked from your lips as Hawks fingers dipped below the seams of the pretty garment, rubbing at just the rights parts of you, tugging your body flush to his. 

“W-Wait, Hawks!” You wrapped a hand around on his wrist, begging your breath to stay somewhat even. “What if someone hears? Or one of the employees comes back? What if--”

“Do you think I care?” Hawks groaned, grunting as he ground into your ass. The unmistakable sound of fabric tearing cut through the room (again) and the fabric of his pants hit the ground. And suddenly you could feel how hard and hot he was. 

Something twisted in your gut and your legs rubbed together. Hawks caught your gaze, scarlet enveloping the room from the sides of your vision and the mirror in front of you.

Hawks shifted your face toward his, nosing along your cheek. The grip on your jaw was replaced by one on your throat; he was hardly exerting any pressure but the threat and meaning were clear.

Keigo has you right where he wants you. He always has, always will. You’re just a bit too... naive? No, maybe dumb... That’s a bit mean, isn’t it?”

“You need this just as I do,” He spoke low and rolling, touch burning like embers. “You know you do. I know you do. You trust me, don’t know?”

All you could do was nod before Keigo slotted his lips to yours, staking a claim that was only new to you. He nipped at your bottom lip, tugged until you were wincing into his mouth. He caught every sound, every little gesture of yours was his, just like you were. Keigo kicked himself for waiting for this so long, but he could be ginger, under the right circumstances. Ones that benefited him. He could only hope you were as good of a fuck as you were fun to toy with. 

You’d be sin yet, Keigo resolved as he pulled away. He just had to coax you there first, and he wasn’t against more... direct methods.

Maybe you’d finally get it then.

#salem answers #tw dubcon #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #my hero academia #PLEASE mind the tags askdljfks #i've never posted anything like this on this blog so #enjoy💕 #honeykeigo

[hansolmates]

would you ever consider writing a lil drabble about the proposal! couple being pregnant? I read that ask a hundred times and I can't stop thinking about it👉🏻👈🏻

pairing; proposal!jk x reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, humor, mc calls herself ugly :(  w/c; 934 a/n; my mind is burned by the thought of that anon saying proposal!jk would snuggle their baby against their chest shirtless n share warmth🥺🥺 mc is still in her early pregnancy at this point but enjoy this lil sneakie peakie

“What is this? This is garbage. The main character has the personality of a sheet of paper,” Jungkook throws down the manuscript on his desk, startling his assistant, “why did you bring me this? Did you want me to feel nauseous before lunch?” 

Unfortunately, Jungkook couldn’t keep Taehyung as his assistant forever. Begrudgingly, Taehyung is far too good an employee to continue following him around. Nam Dosan is a big adjustment to Jungkook: meek, chirpy, and a little too starry-eyed for his liking. 

You keep urging Jungkook to give him a chance, but chance by chance is wearing far too thin for his liking, especially during their busy season. 

“Please don’t kill the messenger, Mr. Jeon,” Dosan holds up his iPad, covering his mouth with it, “um, and speaking of messages. Mrs. Jeon wants you in her office for lunch.” 

“Lunch isn’t for another half hour, Dosan. We still have shit to do.” 

“Oh no, lunch is now,” Dosan’s eyes widen considerably when Jungkook parries him with a glare, ready to face the heat, “Mrs. Jeon’s  order just got delivered and now she’s ready to eat.” 

“But she knows our lunch times—” 

“She said, and these are her words not mine—that if you don’t come in ten minutes she will take every manuscript in this office and burn it in your fireplace.”  

Jungkook relaxes against the seat, regarding his assistant with a knit expression. The only reason why he hasn’t fired Dosan is because of this, Dosan’s ability to remind Jungkook that he’s not only their editor-in-chief, but now a husband. He reminds Jungkook that he has far more pressing obligations in life. 

“Okay, she said ten minutes right?” Jungkook reluctantly tugs the previously thrown manuscript to his chest, already buzzing with potential ideas he can muster up, “I’ll go in ten minutes.” 

“I really don’t think you should let her wait—”

“Ten, Dosan.” 

“You’re twenty minutes late,” you’re ripping the yellow bread roll from your teeth. It’s a force so rough it reminds Jungkook acutely of a wolf ripping apart raw flesh. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jungkook placates you gently, subtly locking the door behind you and minding the blinds so that the two of you are covered. He watches your eyes flicker over the rolling shades, dipping the room in an opaque shade of emerald green. You don’t bother getting up to greet him, and wait for him to take the seat across from your desk. 

Your food has been mostly consumed, and Jungkook notices that you’ve started to pick at his own meal. Jungkook’s favorite skirt steak smothered with a golden hollandaise sauce, sitting on a bed of russet mashed potatoes. He sees that a couple strips have been stolen, and rightfully so. 

“I really don’t want to hear the excuses,” you exhale, finally emerging from your desk. 

Food forgotten, Jungkook watches as you get up, mesmerized by your open blazer and tight pencil skirt. The black silky fabric wraps around your abdomen, highlighting the bump that’s been growing steadily over the past three months. Shamelessly, he admits that the pencil skirts look even better when you’re pregnant. He’s immediately reminded why he seldom visits your office anymore. He gets terribly distracted, it’s why he tries so hard to work himself to the last second until Dosan drags him over kicking and screaming. 

You grab your cup of tea out of your mini microwave, chamomile because it has a low caffeine content. The soothing scent relaxes you slightly, and you brush past Jungkook’s shoulder as you sit on your guest couch. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, rubbing your brow, “I know our schedules run differently. I’m just feeling so frustrated nowadays. My temper’s short and I can’t read for more than ten minutes at a time, and I feel so ugly and bloated—” 

“Hey, none of that,” Jungkook dips down to meet you at the couch, his hands immediately searching for the warm bump that holds the result of  your precious coupling. “You are so beautiful. You’re carrying our child, you’re so strong and I’m so proud of you,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, dragging his lips along your jawline, “I’m going to take a paternity leave.” 

The pregnancy was a surprise to both of you. Admittedly, it shouldn’t have been that surprising when you got the news from your gynecologist. You had been fucking like bunnies after you closed a particular deal with an up and coming author, simultaneously celebrating and getting out frustration over the course of multiple weekends. Jungkook was thrilled by the news, but equally nervous knowing that both of you are still riding off the peak of your careers.  

You immediately stiffen in his hold, and Jungkook dips his finger under your blouse to rub soothing circles on your bare belly. “Are you crazy?” you whisper, “how can both of us be out of commission at the same time?” 

“We have Taehyung and Karen,” and you soften, thinking how so many years ago Jungkook would cling to his work like a lifeline. How you felt obligated to string along with him as his bustling assistant. Knowing that Jungkook feels more comfortable putting his work in other’s hands and asking for help, it warms you. Now, it seems like his new lifeline is right in front of him. “All that matters right now is you, me, and our little honeydew.” 

“Honeydew,” you repeat, placing a hand over where Jungkook is caressing your stomach, “this little honeydew is going to turn in a watermelon pretty soon.” 

“Mm,” Jungkook agrees, resting his head on your shoulder, “can’t wait.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #for: anon #ask

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Blighted

For my precious Sunshine, @5-secondsofcolor's birthday!! Which is technically now, because it is 1 AM on the 20th of May and I am a mad woman. Love you and I hope you have an amazing day, when you see this of course.

Here is your fic, FBI/Behavior Analyst!Calum. Female OC.

Ivy says she's cursed after taking the same career path that took her father's life. Calum's new on the team, a liaison and media specialist, but he's looking to get his toes wet.

AKA your regular old jaded pessimist veteran and bright eyed rookie buddy cop story. Please enjoy!

CW: In depth descriptions of death/crime scenes. Depictions of violence, gore, and blood.

Enjoy my masterlist (on a haitus)

Search for more writing in the h writes tag

________________________

The whiteboard never leaves. It glows behind her closed eyelids. When staring down at the neck of a bottle, she sees it floating just as the bottom of her drink. She’s cursed. But she knew that the moment she tried out for the academy. The second the thought floated across her mind, she would be doomed just like her father. Ivy tried her best to reroute herself--she got into the arts, was first chair flute in her highschool’s orchestra. She was president of the Homecoming committees her junior and senior year, and worked during the summers at her church's camp.

And yet when she went into school for her degree, she gravitated towards psychology and criminal justice. She saw her mother’s fear. The closer it came to graduation and the more the two of them talked about what she would do after graduating, the more the thought lingered, I want to get into the Bureau like Dad. But she couldn’t utter that. She couldn’t say those words without tears welling up in her mother’s eyes.

Ivy suspected her mother always knew about the desires. Ivy didn’t remember all the nights clearly, but sometimes she’d peek out her bedroom door and see the glow of the light downstairs. Ivy followed it, side stepping the creaky fourth step from the top and from between the banister’s she’d find her dad sitting at the dining room table. The kitchen light glowed from behind him and his tie would barely hang on around his neck.

“Boo,” he’d say quietly, knowing the slight shuffle of Ivy’s feet.

“How’d you know I was there, Daddy?” she’d ask, carrying herself the rest of the way down the stairs and make her way through the living room to climb into his lap.

“I can hear your feet above me,” he’d respond, pointing above them.

And they’d spend an hour, sitting at the dining room table. Ivy asked about her dad’s latest trip. He only ever told her when she was young that they were helping save people, putting bad people away. Ivy wonders if this is where it started. If this was where her father casted the spell, leaving Ivy somehow starry eyed about what it really was he did. Ivy would always look at this job with a little bit of that hope that her younger self had, and she’d always be fucked to never be able to walk away from this line of work.

It would kill her--much like it had killed her dad. But unlike him, she’d see the bullet spiral out of the barrel. Her dad had her and her mother to get back too. It wasn’t a weakness. Ivy admired her father for sticking with his dreams and also making the hard calls to make sure his family knew he cared too. But the need to decide would always be a slight hindrance, would always be the key to living or dying in this line of work.

All that’s left of her father, besides the memories and a few of his old t-shirts that got remade into pillows, is the whiteboard she keeps at her desk. There’s a whiteboard for the entire team to use of course. But this whiteboard is the one that her father used in his office. The one where he made his notes, scribbles. The one she’d write notes to him in the bottom left corner that never disappeared until she wanted to replace the note with something new.

“Thomas, look alive, and enjoy.” The manilla folder hits her desk with a quiet thwack. Ivy blinks from the whiteboard up to her senior officer. Kennedy carries on, dropping folders on every desk and each one of them stands without needing any further prompting.

Kennedy’s been in the field for years. It was all over his face with the deep frown lines. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if he questioned every waking second. Ivy liked to tease he worried even about sleep. But no one could sink a decade and a half into this line of work and not come out on the other side with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“And where’s this new guy?” Kennedy asks, glancing over the office.

Ivy looks up from her copy of the file. She heard rumors of someone else coming by the office, assisting them occasionally on cases. But those rumors floated around weeks ago, long enough that she chalked it up to just that--rumors. It doesn’t shock her though. Things start at rumors often, and sometimes they come to fruition and sometimes they don’t. Ivy follows Kennedy’s eyeline and doesn’t spy any new faces.

“Want me to keep an eye out for any lost souls?” Ivy offers, glancing back up to Kennedy.

“Nah, I need your eyes on this one. Head up to the conference room and I’ll be there once he shows up.”

With a nod, Ivy closes the file. She swipes the whiteboard from her desk with a couple markers and heads up to the conference room. The rest of the team sat flipping through their files too, Jenkins sitting right near the front but moved down one seat. They’re not new, having been around for a couple years. But Ivy can tell their type--getting in chummy with the boss, trying too hard. They’re a good addition, but Ivy’s waiting for the day they take a hunch and it doesn’t lead to the results they want. A loss will show their true colors, how well they can handle being wrong sometimes. No one on the team is perfect, they’re all hedging bets. Ivy’s taken her lumps of hunches being made too late, or the wrong bets placed. They’re not often. No one likes them. But they happen.

Diaz, Russell, and Burke and scattered throughout the rest of the table. The three of them have been there longer than Ivy. But they all accepted her with open arms. Diaz and Burke were more muscular. They had the brains to match, but they came up the pipeline from their local PD departments and aren’t afraid to get into a tussle. More often than not, Ivy winds up pulling Burke from fights than she’d care to admit. Diaz’s much too big for Ivy to attempt physically restraining, so she referee’s those fights that he gets into.

Russell’s their man behind the screen. He was good at getting through the internet loops, figuring out how to sort databases for the information they need without so much red tape and delay. He preferred to stay behind the lines, but could handle a tussle. Ivy doesn’t count herself as the brains. But her gut had some sort of true north needle that, more often than not, was right. She could see patterns faster than most, could sniff the air after someone and assess how much she could and wanted to trust. Kennedy consulted her often. Whenever she felt like she had something, he’d hush the crowd for her to formulate the full thought. Kennedy didn’t always agree with her assessment, but had to listen to it. He needed to listen to it.

“Nope,” Russell huffs, shutting the folder. “Fucking hell. Kennedy told me it was rough, but I didn’t--I didn’t think it was this rough.”

Ivy settles in next to him sliding him a marker. She draws roughly a tic-tac-toe board. “It not getting easier for you is a good sign.”

Russell makes his first move, the marker squeaking just a little. Ivy follows up with hers. She knows if she makes it too obvious, too easy, Russell will forfeit the game. So she tries to play along, like she’s vying to win.

Russell places his second X though his hands shake just a hair. “Yeah, but compared to you guys, I feel like if someone took a gnarly enough shit it would make me queasy.”

“A bad enough shit could do that to anyone,” Diaz pipes in, his own folder still open but his forearms pressed down over the photographs. Russell’s been around the block, definitely seem some rough things, but has always had a softer view of the world. Still wants it to be good despite all the bad he’s seen.

Ivy places down her second O, noticing the pretty obvious wide open spot she left Russell but looks up to Diaz. “I think I heard through the grapevine you were on the losing end of one of those shits yesterday,” she teases.

Diaz reclines into his seat, his chest bouncing with his laughter. “All because of your cooking Thomas.”

“My cooking is not that bad,” she defends, the cap of her black marker pointing him out.

Burke snickers too with a shake of her head and opens her mouth to speak but the room fills with the voice of Kennedy. “Aren’t y’all old enough to be left alone not to talk about shit for five minutes?”

“Never too old to talk shit, sir,” Diaz returns, his smile lifting only half his face up. He’s a charmer, whenever they go out to bars out manage to get a moment’s peace not hounded by work, he never seems to be at a lack of folks coming up to him. He’s already got a girl, but with the hair that cascades always neatly placed and the dazzling bright grin, anyone could fall for it.

Kennedy huffs his laughter quickly and then shuffles deeper into the room. “We’ve got a new friend, so let’s play nice.” As Kennedy makes head way, Ivy notices the man behind him. He’s tall. The black dress pants and black dress shirt don’t hide everything beneath them, but Ivy’s not too shocked to see people who work in the field like that with some sort of muscular physique. There’s something about his face though--something about the way his brown eyes dart around the room and his smile never shows any teeth that something familiar tugs at her.

Kennedy goes around the table introducing Ivy first, then going to Russell, coming down to Jenkins, Diaz, and then Burke. Each one of them lifts a hand or nods at their name. “This here is Hood, Calum Hood. Joining us as a new liaison.”

Ivy’s no good with faces sometimes. But names she hardly ever forgets. Hood, she met him once a few years back at a lecture. Not that she did them often, but Kennedy got more face time. But he made sure to spread the love between the team. He asked her to tag along. Calum must’ve been in the crowd, had to be, and had to have asked a question because Kennedy told her to remember that name. And she had.

Kennedy continues on with something. Ivy suspects he’s warning Diaz to keep any hazy tactics to a minimum considering how much of a mess they’re walking into. Ivy nods once more at him, and then faces back to the whiteboard, the tap on her arm prompting her too. I’m a scaredy cat sure, but not dumb, it reads in Russell’s handwriting. She spies his X in the bottom corner, opposite of where he would’ve won.

“Pull up a seat, Hood. We’ll have more time for pleasantries once we’re up in the air. But I want everyone to at least be familiar with this case.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice is smooth, Ivy notes. A soft volume and accented but smoother than she would’ve pegged.

The team breaks down the file, recapping mostly what they’ve already read but Kennedy’s old fashioned this way, needing to make sure people have done their homework. It’s an extra step than completely necessary, but having the quick meetings has always made this team feel more like a second family. There’s always a common goal in mind for them and they’re always reminded of it. No matter what happens out in the field, they all want the same thing.

“We soar in forty-five minutes. So let’s hope wheels can turn in the air. Hood, I need you to keep in mind the local PD’s been taking a lot of heat for the last couple of months. So we don’t want to take too much star power, we’re only here to assist and whatever we can do to put the local’s good grace back onto that PD we need to.”

Not quite what she expected, though with his demeanor and looks, he’s sure to work a crowd or newsroom well. She’s sure he’ll be on the ground with them too.

“Understood,” he replies and with that, all of them push away from the table. “Agent Thomas,” Hood says, reaching out almost as if to touch her elbow but never actually do it. He continues to speak once she looks over to him. “I-I don’t know if you remember. But we met at a lecture a couple years back that you held with Agent Kennedy. And I just wanted to say that I’m excited to be here, working with you all.”

“Thomas, here, does not respond well to flattery. Trust, we’ve all tried,” Diaz laughs, clamping down on Hood’s shoulders.

“I appreciate it,” Ivy responds. “Glad to have a fresh mind on the team.” There’s no smile, at least, not one she’d give Russell, Burke, Diaz, or even Jenkins. But Calum watches her give another curt nod with a quick quirk of her lips, and then leave, stacking her file on top of the whiteboard.

“Don’t sweat it. She’s in work mode,” Diaz assures. “We get off the clock and she’s a hoot. But on the clock, it’s strictly business. I will warn you, Thomas will burn you.”

Calum’s left, watching Diaz, Burke, and Russell leave. Jenkins turned tail the second Kennedy got done. It’s not that he wants to mix business with pleasure. He’s just been studying Thomas, attending as many lectures that she gives as he can. She didn’t always go directly by the book, there was something about her method that used the evidence, used science, but also had some sort of intuition. Thomas just knew things and when attempting to quantify it, she didn’t always have the words for it. Calum just wants to see that in action, understand what it is about knowing that isn’t always present in the facts.

The plane ride is comfortable. Plenty of seats even though they squeak just a little. Calum watches Thomas sit and everyone seems to sit spread out from there, keeping her at some sort of center. “Mobile. They don’t mind the hustle,” Ivy starts.

“Crossing state lines is risky, especially after the escalation,” Burke interjects.

“But wouldn’t that be a reason for it? If all the crimes look different, enough crossing state lines might make the unsub feel confident, like they’re getting away with something.” The entire plane turns to look at him. Calum freezes for a moment. He knows better. He knows so much better than that. Fuck.

“Valid. But we shouldn’t settle. Travel might be part of their job. We’ve got a good cluster to possibly estimate a home base. Get comfortable, perfect the craft here and then spread out. But why come back? Local PD's hadn't quite connected anything, until the return. More families, found exactly the same. Even when they cross state lines, all points wind back to a specific geographical location,” Burke returns.

“Hood, you got the inside of the media. What does it look like?”

Thirty minutes of his forty five was making sure that he could at least nail down this run through. And it’s easy, even with the squeak of Ivy’s dry erase marker, to run down the media reports, what information has been released and what hasn’t been released. He makes note of what the team doesn’t want to get out and what they do want to keep available to the public.

All the while, Calum watches the way Ivy writes over her board, the squeak over and over on specific strokes. He wonders for a moment what she’s writing, what it is that she needs to keep written track of. But he doesn’t get a chance to fully flesh out that thought before he finishes his spill and Diaz cuts in. They’re fast, not quite settling on any one theory. More like compiling the possibilities, not wanting to eliminate things but ranking how plausible they all could be until the pieces click.

The first thing after the flight lands, they head for the precinct. The lead investigator greets them, and there’s no pause. They’re pulled into the frenzy, looking at boards. Calum tries to keep his head in the game, but he is watching Ivy. The way she settles in her chair, her marker always moving. He’s not even sure it’s words anymore, just a constant circular movement. Sure he’s here to help regulate media outlets, and he can do that in his sleep if local PD and media follow his instructions to a T.

But he needs an in, to show he’s more than just the new meat on the chopping block. He’s worth something. “Is the last crime scene still available?” Calum asks.

The room turns to him, well most of the room does. Ivy keeps circling, but she speaks. “The plan’s to go in ten minutes. Whatever’s got you preoccupied, leave it in your go bag.”

Kennedy chuckles, tapping at her foot. “Give the kid a break. He was buried in news coverage the second we got into the door. But Hood, shake the cobwebs. This isn’t your small town’s rodeo anymore. If you need to be caught up, ask. But if you’re going to be in the room, keep those ears open.”

A task easier said than done, but he nods, resting his elbows on his knees. God, they’re going to think I’m an idiot. The room goes back to its normal buzz, but Calum keeps his head buried in his hands.

“Talk to me. What are your theories?”

Calum lifts his head. Ivy’s closer now. He can see the black marks on her hand from where she’s held it up against the swirls and lettering. “Clearly I’m barely treading water here.”

“First day nerves, but you can shake it. You wanted to see the crime scene. Why?”

“Why there? We have indications that the unsub spent a lot of time there, even with the interruptions they've seemed to caused. They're still meticulous. I want to follow their steps. What did they do first? And why? What do they need from a crime scene before it’s done?”

“Good. But what else?”

“What-what do you mean what else?”

She smiles, much different than the first one. It shows her teeth, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “What else?”

He goes quiet, reclines back into the seat and closes his eyes for a second. What else? There’s a lot else. “I mean, the next obvious thing is why these victims? But besides that, how comfortable is this person? Do they feel a need to be rushed, fast, get-in-get-out or can they blend in? I have a hunch they can blend in. Maybe people even trust them. They are perfectly ordinary and in essence, they have to be in order for the fantasy to work. Detection means they have to get sloppy. Being sloppy’s not an option, so blending in it is.”

“Bring that to the crime scene.” Something taps his knee and Calum cracks open his eyes to see her, standing. Her whiteboard still gently rests against his knee. She’s not looking at him though. Her gaze is locked onto the board next to him, displaying the crime scene photos.

“What’s your secret?” Calum asks. He’s almost positive she didn’t hear him due to Ivy’s lack of prompt response. But then she turns to him.

“Secret?”

“Thomas, Hood, you comin’ or what?” Kennedy calls. “I can deal without Diaz, but I need you, Thomas.”

“I’ll remember that,” Diaz laughs as they walk through the glass doors of the precinct.

It’s not Calum’s first time at a crime scene. But the second Calum steps through the door a chill runs through him. The carpet and walls are still bloodstained. Everything about it the scene just feels wrong, makes Calum want to immediately step back out of the house.

“You feel that?” Burke asks. She continues on deeper into the house, slipping into her gloves.

“This is when Thomas says she’s too Black for all this and gets the hell out of dodge,” Diaz barks. He squats down to the blood on the carpet. Ivy’s already deep into the house, seemingly guided by a force unwillingly to let her go. She doesn’t respond verbally, just lifts her hand, the middle finger extended out in the general direction of Diaz.

And Calum is standing near the threshold of the door, trying to pinpoint why it feels so cold in a house in Texas in the middle of the summer. His hands feel sticky even inside the latex gloves. His first step is shaky but he stops next to Diaz. “There are drag marks from the blood,” Calum notes. “This isn’t where they were killed, just staged.”

“The unsub staged all the victims here in the living room. We know that. Pictures show the parents at the ends of the sofa, children in the middle, dog on the floor.”

“But there’s blood on the walls. We know the Dad’s 6’1,” Calum returns.

“And we don’t have forced entry. So, whoever is wreaking havoc isn’t threatening enough for someone not to answer the door.”

Calum turns to the sofa where the family was found. “It’s picturesque, poetic even. You’ve got a whole family right here, at your will. They knock on the door. It’s dusk, sun’s just starting to set.”

“They have a ruse that gets them inside. We already know they have to blend in with the community. So what can you use to get into a house? Who gets into a house without a problem?”

Diaz goes into the kitchen where in the case file it mentions when the family was finally discovered food was still out on the table. “The window doesn’t have to last long. But it has to be just right. All three families were either eating dinner, or just done with dinner. So why dinner time?” Diaz turns from the stove to face Calum.

“It’s when everyone is together. They’re not just going after a family, but very specific family dynamics. Which means both parents need to present, two kids seems to be a minimum.”

“What’s the average dinner time you’d say? With this job, I eat whenever I fucking can. But before this, excluding people like us, when is the average person sitting down to eat?”

“6, 6:30 I’d guess. That’s assuming the average person is working a job that calls it at 5PM. A town like this is either on the verge of collapsing or being bought out. So I assume a lot of people are traveling outside to the city for work, so the commute might be even later. But I wouldn’t hazard any guesses that our unsub’s just haphazardly picking houses.”

“No, no, you’re right, Hood,” Diaz states, walking over to the table. “I guess what I’m saying is the timing. No one hears anything. But our unsub’s using a gun. That’s not quiet. And there’s not a lot of city noise this far out. They’re spending hours in the house and somehow getting out undetected. But striking at dinner time, with the setting sun, means this person’s around outside the house. But no one’s noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hunting seasons,” Calum returns. “No one really flinches at the sound of a gun shot because people are hunting year ‘round here.”

“And it seems like humans are on the menu.”

“An appetizing thought.”

******

Ivy’s not sure when the chill finally left over the course of the day but it returns when she walks into the precinct and sees the entire room in a frenzy. Kennedy spies her and it’s just a look. Not much different than his resting face, but somehow she knows with that slight arch in his eyebrow. Another family--while they were proding over photos the killer was already moving on, already in the midst of their attack.

And it shouldn’t shock her. Well, to be more accurate, it doesn’t shock her and maybe that’s the thing that scares her. “I’ve been doing this too damned long,” she mutters to herself. “Hood, you’re with me. Get the address and let’s see what that gut of yours cooks up.”

“How’d--Is Kennedy going to be okay with that? The call just came in a few minutes ago.”

“Get the address and tell me how you like your coffee,” Ivy says. Kennedy’s going to come to the scene anyway, but she doesn’t tell Calum that.

There’s not another word before Calum passes in front of her. “Cream and two sugars,” he answers as he goes.

“So Black, got it.”

Paused at the desk of a detective, he looks over his shoulder. “Cream and two sugars,” he re-emphasizes with a tiny smile and holding up two fingers. Police station coffee’s never the best, but it’s better than nothing. When on a case, time is also imperative and they take what they can. Ivy fixes Calum’s cup first, slipping a lid on and keeping the stirrer through the hole. She pours her cup with no additions.

“Not even creamer? Not one?” Calum questions.

“Takes too much time,” she returns. “Burke, you staying?”

“Yeah, Russell got those files over just before the call came in. Besides that crime scene’s bound to be crowded as all hell and I swear if I walk into another house and catch a chill after seven years of doing this job, I just might quit.”

The two ladies laugh. Ivy recovering first to respond, “I need you to keep me sane even though you’re just as much trouble as Diaz.”

“Which is why I’m going to say here, work with Russell. We’re going to need Hood back before the 5’oclock news. Whatever you find at the scene will help solidify our profile and we need it soon. We need the hands on this clock, because it’s ticking ahead of us.”

Ivy nods. It’s no fun being behind. “Kennedy, we’re moving or we’re dying.”

“I trust you. There’s something off about that last one that I want to walk through again.”

“Let’s rock and roll,” she says to Calum, handing him his cup of coffee. “Mr. Cream-and-Two-Sugars.”

The drive is relatively short, all thanks to Ivy’s lead foot. But they need to get there fast, while things are still fresh.

“Did you always want to do this?” Calum asks in the silence of their drive. The radio doesn’t even play. Ivy knew he had questions. He wore them on his face, brows furrowing anytime he was the slightest bit hesitant about something.

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice? We’ve all got choices.”

“My dad worked with the FBI until it killed him. And I think about how he used to tell me it was his job to help put bad people in jail. And I believed him.”

“The bug bit you before you even had a fighting chance.”

Ivy nods, taking a quick glance to Calum. “But if I had a prettier face, I’d stick with liaison too.”

Calum huffs out his laughter. “I went the journalism route first, sue me. Besides, that’s you admitting you think I have a pretty face.”

“I forget faces—so don’t think too highly of it. And I’m probably old enough to be your mother. You attended some lectures, I remembered your name. How’d you convert?”

It’s silent for a moment and Calum contemplates her statement, old enough to be his mother. “Given that my mother has shared her fountain of youth with my sister and I, you might be shocked to know I’m nearing 30. And I converted because of you and your work under Kennedy and his old superior Rogers.”

“All the greats,” Ivy teases, but she doesn't sound impressed. More like tired, used to it.

“But you’re different.”

“Yeah, because somehow the Bureau hasn’t realized their mistake.”

“Mistake?” Calum asks around his sip of coffee.

“Kennedy’s going to retire soon. He's done 15 with our unit. Another ten prior to that climbing through the ranks. Then they’re going to have to find a replacement.”

“You say that like it won’t be you.”

“Because it won’t.”

“You’ve been with Kennedy for so long. He’s obviously going to recommend you, Ivy.”

“He can recommend but people higher up get the final word.”

The truck stops just in front of the house, and Calum knows the most logical thing to do is just focus on the case, walk the scene. Do his job. But he reaches across the console and wraps his fingers around hers for a second with a squeeze. “You’ll get it. They’d be dumb not to bring you to the head of this team.”

“There’s an altar or a shrine. It’s small.”

Calum pauses with his hand on the door. Ivy continues beside him. “Go to the eldest child’s bedroom. In a corner you’ll see the small shrine. Our unsub left one at the last house. And the house before, I’d bet. And this house too. That’s what Kennedy missed. What other cops missed too. Make sure you get it photographed. Besides, I’ve been doing this job too long and don’t know if I’d even want the added responsibility if they promoted me.”

“How’d we miss that?”

“We didn’t miss shit. We saw it when we needed to see it. We see things when we need them.” It's the way she says it, like she has to believe that makes Calum believe too.

The sight rocks Calum--he knew it wouldn’t be easy. But he didn’t know it’d hit him like this. The room spins, just a little. And his heart racing. Mostly because he can’t stand the thought that this could be someone he knows. These people weren’t anticipating their would be like this. And what does that even mean for him? What does his end look like?

“Hey, whoa. Whoa.” An arm comes around his waist and he follows the lead of whomever’s grabbed him.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a fudge brownie. It’s okay to not be alright in there.”

Calum rests against the side of the house and squats down just a little. His elbows hit his knees. His breath is heavy, falls from his open mouth almost like he’s going to vomit. But his stomach’s not churning anymore. Not with the fresh morning air hitting his lungs. “Fuck,” he breathes out again, eyes blurring just a little.

“But you’re okay. Take a breather.” Ivy’s shoes turn up in the dirt. "Get him a water, will ya? Hood, take a minute. It's alright. I'll be inside when you're ready." Calum just watches her go. It takes a moment for him to lift his head. It has to get easier. Or least he hopes it does. It takes him a minute, inhaling deeply before he stands up straight.

The rest of them processing the scene goes by in relative silence. Occasionally, Calum pipes in with an addition to their theory. Ivy hums in agreement. And it’s not until they step out and slip out of their gloves that Ivy says anything. “This is why I drink my coffee black.”

“I’m sorry. I really--I don’t know why this one got me.”

“It’s the kids. Kids are the worst.”

Calum looks up to the sky. There’s a few clouds, but not many. “The photos are bad, but in person is way different.”

Ivy watches Calum, the way it takes him a second to come back to earth it seems. “Don’t ask yourself if it gets easier.” When his gaze lands hers, she can see the furrowed brow again. The question drips off his face. “You’ll only disappoint yourself. And this job’s not for the weak of heart. For the people that can’t take some losses with the wins.”

“You said it yourself. You wanted to put the bad people away.”

“Eight year old me wants to believe it’s as easy as putting the monsters away. Thirty-one year old me knows for a fact what the losses are, who gets caught in the cross-fire. It’s not easy, not in the slightest.”

“Innocent lives do add up.”

“Which is why I try not to do math on the job. They all slip up. They all reach a point where their methods don’t satiate the need. They all make a fatal flaw and counting the unfortunate lives on the way to that will have you walking from the Bureau faster than you can blink.”

“So what makes you stay? If it’s all so fucking bad, what keeps you going?”

Ivy nods to the car, pulling the keys from her pocket. “We need to solidify our profile and you need to run press ASAP. But to answer your question, the thing that keeps me going is that fact that they do get caught eventually.”

******

Eventually seems to come up faster than Calum anticipates. He was sure it would take weeks. After getting back to the precinct more information in Russell’s digging found a connection between all the families, a Venn diagram that overlapped to their X on the map. Another couple of days and it all unravelled. It’s a blur, when he tries to think back to it, on the plane. The only grounding thing is when one of the children, a little girl about 6, pointed out the tattoos on his hands. In all this time, he was sure the tattoos would be a barrier to entry--they’d somehow put him in a place that others would think he was nothing but trouble. But somehow, despite the terror she had done through, that little girl liked his tattoos, found some sort of comfort in them.

When he told her they were for his parents, she smiled at him. She said she wanted one for her parents too and then asked if he had anymore and how old he was when he got them. All of which Calum was more than happy to answer while the medic checked over her. Her older brother came soon after, asking a few questions, but overall he was much quieter than his sister. Understandable for what was endured. In the end, Calum’s just glad he didn’t see them staged on a couch, bleeding out onto the cushions.

There’s a small bit of turbulence and the shakes cause Calum to open his eyes for a moment. Ivy’s seated across from him, whiteboard on her lap, headphones in her ears. A tic-tac-toe grid drawn across it in the middle, but in the corners are some swirls, a crude drawing of the shrine from the case. Calum leans forward and tugs on the board just a little. She lets it go without a fight and hands over the marker.

Calum makes an ‘X’ in the top left. “You said this job doesn’t get easier.” He looks up to see if Ivy can hear him and is relieved when she pops out one her headphones. She raises her brows like she wants him to continue with the thought. And Calum’s not even sure he should. Instead, he hands over the board back to her. If seeing death doesn’t get easier, then maybe it just means he gets better at it. Maybe it means that not being okay with death is a good motivator to keep down this path.

“The job doesn’t get easier. You’re still human. You still want a spouse and a kid. You might want two dogs and a cat. You might want that white picket fence one day. You’ll want to close your eyes and not see death. You’ll want to walk down the street and see humans as humans again. You’ll have nightmares. Don’t hide from it. Nothing’s wrong with you for wanting that. But we’re in a world now where we see the horrors--what’s on the other side of everything you wanted. It’s a liminal space and it’s heavy to wade through.”

“I just want to not freak like I did the other day. It’s not easy. But sometimes I fear that maybe I bit off more than I could chew.”

Their game of tic-tac-toe has been forgotten, placed in the seat next to Ivy as she leans forward in her seat. “You said you were converted because of me. What exactly about me was it?”

“You just know things. When you walk onto a scene, you have an air of knowing. How can you just pick up on it in a snap?”

“Well,” Ivy laughs, “if that’s the only reason you want in, I warn you to get out.”

“I want to help. I want to save people,” Calum adds on. But then it hits him. Maybe this wasn’t the business of saving people as much as it was stopping people. Sure, they prevent future murders, but that didn’t always negate for all the lives lost. But they did save that family today. He saved that little girl that wants tattoos like his. “I want to save people and I want to stop people as well,” he finally adds on.

“There will always be monsters in this world,” Ivy warns.

“And there will always be heroes.”

“Make no mistake, Calum. We don’t have capes. We don’t swoop in all the time at just the right moment. Sometimes we are late. Sometimes we’re reacting more than we are being proactive. Sometimes we fuck up.”

His heart stops for just a moment at the mention of his first name. He’s always Hood, or at least has always been Hood. Just like she’s always Thomas to the team. But she said his first name. Unmistakably so. “Did-did you just use my first name?”

“You used my first name, first.”

When had he done that? He didn’t recall, but he couldn’t combat it either.

“Look,” Ivy continues, “the fact remains. We will fail. We will make the wrong call, or the right call just by the skin of our teeth. We will walk down the wrong direction only to figure out, we know it’s the wrong one. We get it right. A lot more often, we get it right and we minimize the death count. But we’re human--you don’t have to take it on if you don’t want. You don’t have to suffer.”

“If I don’t suffer and win, then that little girl suffers and loses. Then the next person loses. And the next. Their suffering or mine--the choice is clear.”

Ivy studies Calum for a moment. She sees the resolve on his face. Just how much sacrificing himself is a no brainer for him. It was a no brainer for her too. But admittedly, she was cursed. Maybe Calum wasn’t. Maybe she could save him, even if she couldn’t save herself. But she wasn’t in the business of saving people, only stopping them.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” she asks.

“Stop me from what?”

“Stop you from killing yourself with this job.”

“If it’s killing you, then why don’t you leave?” His head cocks to the side, now intrigued by her honesty.

“It’s like you said, I got bit before I could escape. I’m cursed. Are you?”

The little girl flashes through his vision again, and his chest tightens for a second before the relief kicks in. He could chase that feeling, the knowledge that he saved someone, one person. And that he helped put away one more person causing harm. “I am now. Ruined--because even though I can’t save them all. I can save some. I can help keep some people safe. I don’t think there’s a better reward than that.”

With a nod, Ivy looks back to their game on the whiteboard. They would’ve tied, she can see it after where she placed her ‘O’. But she hands it back over to Calum. “Kennedy’s going to shit himself when he realizes he’s got too hard heads on his team.”

“You’ll shit yourself when you realize you’re inheriting the second hard-head on the team after Kennedy leaves.”

Ivy scoffs. Of course, Calum still believes in the shiny idea that hard work yields rewards. “And this is where I can still tell you’re new to this--the dreams are still shiny and ideal.”

“All the work you’ve invested, they’d be--”

Ivy interrupts him. “I know, they’d be dumb not to.”

“Then why do you keep saying it won’t happen?”

“I’d call my pessimism a curse. But at this point, I think it’s a personality trait and the truth.”

“And let me guess, this is why you take your coffee black too.”

Ivy winks at him before her smile takes over her face. “You know it.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imaagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #fbi!calum #behavior analyst!calum #h writes #calum hood blurb #calum hood x oc

[dearest-kibble]

How they meet their Darling (Yandere haikyuu!!)

Ushijima and Kageyama

Kageyama

Kageyama is a man who doesn’t pay attention. To anything really.

Anything but Volleyball, that is.

It’s not until you are sitting next to him in class that he even knows you exist.

You give him a simple poke, and he jerks up, looks at you, and goes to lean back down. 

“Aren’t you the setter for the volleyball team?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just heard he didn’t pay attention, guess they were right.” You laugh to yourself, roll your eyes and go back to looking at your notes as the teacher drones on. 

Kageyama puts his head back in his arms. 

That was weird.

And the next day, when he’s strategizing for practice in his notebook.

“So what's the rest of the team like?”

“Annoying, why?”

“Just trying to start a conversation.” You sigh, and turn back to your own notebook.

“Ask me when I’m not thinking about volleyball.” 

“Ok.” The conversation ends until Kageyama can stop thinking about volleyball. 

You’ll find him when he does. 

You don’t find him.

Maybe it’s because, contrary to popular belief, Kageyama is in fact, surprisingly, not more emotional or expressive than a brick wall. 

But he’s stopped thinking about volleyball. For a few moments in class. While he’s looking at a tree, or when he sleeps.

Dreams that once were about setting the perfect spike, turn to you sitting in the bleachers, watching him set that damned spike.

That tree he’s looking at? You’re sitting under it, telling him that his form is almost perfect.

And in class?

He almost wants you to ask about how to set. How even you, could become a better volleyball player. 

It gets bad. To the point where you and volleyball are synonymous. He can’t have one without thinking about the other.

He has a problem with you.

Or more, that he doesn’t understand why you aren’t at his games or aren’t under that tree talking about his posture. 

And maybe? It’s a little bit a problem with why you’re always on his mind.

He doesn’t get why he feels warmth sitting near you. 

You aren’t the rush he feels when he’s playing a match.

Yet his heart still beats faster.

He’ll ask you about it. He catches you after school, but he won’t be late for practice, you’ll come with him. 

He finds you by that tree.

“Why do I feel warm when I’m near you?”

“Cause I’m really hot?” It’s a deadpan answer for a deadpan question. “I don’t know, why do you feel warm when I’m near you?”

“You should watch my games.” Your eyes widen and blink twice. 

“What?”

“You wanted to know what the team was like right?” 

“Sure, I guess,”

“Then come on.”

You sit in on a practice three v three.

It’s pretty intense, Hinata is playing against him, he’s setting some shots to be hit by Tanaka, Noya is rolling his thunder, all in all? A close game.

But Kageyama always comes out on top.

If it wasn’t for his pride, then maybe it was to impress you.

The you, who was now talking to a very excited Nishinoya.

The short Libero had apparently caught your eye with his flashy-as-all-hell style of playing.

But what was the point of you being here if you weren’t going to watch him?

In all his dreams and thoughts, you were watching him.

His chest aches when you don’t pay attention to him.

Kageyama just doesn’t feel complete.

He hears his knuckles crack before he feels it.

“Hey. Come with me.” He glares down at Nishinoya who just smirks right back at him.

You have the audacity to laugh.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming,” you send a smile to Noya as you try to keep pace with Kageyama’s long legs. “We’ll continue our conversation later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Nishinoya barely even gets through the word befor Kageyama slams the door to the gym.

No one is around, it’s just the two of you.

Kageyama’s ache goes away and his shoulders realesed tension that wouldn’t be good if they played another match.

“What were you doing in there?!” He’s aware he’s loud, but when isn’t he? This is normal. The only abnormal thing here is you and the way his heart beats around you.

“I was talking to Noya, got a problem with that?”

What didn’t he have a problem with? You were on a nickname basis with Nishinoya, you didn’t look at him at all during the game. And he still didn’t know why he felt so warm around you.

“Why didn’t you look at me?”

“I didn’t know I had to look at his majesty, the king.”

Well shit. It feels to natural for Kageyama to do this, like he’s setting for Hinata and they pull of their quick attack.

He punches you. A little above your gut. He watches as you stumble back and clutch your chest. The way you breath to get air makes him feel a little colder inside. That’s not right.

“What. The. Fuck!” You take a breath after yelling at the top of your lungs. “Kageyama, what the fuck, why’d you hit me?” You take a few more breaths and another step back.

Why are you yelling at him again? Because he tried to let you know that you should look at him? Not Nishinoya?

Looking at him would improve his game. Telling him he was almost perfect would improve his game. Yelling, looking at others and cussing? Oh the cussing would not improve his game. He’s fairly certain that is someone were to cuss loudly as part of a chant, they’d be kicked out of the gym.

And he can’t have that now. You have to watch him.

For the whole game.

“Talk to me asshole! I might be willing to let it slide i-” his arm moves on it’s own, fingers wrap harshly around skin.

You’re relatively light as it so turns out.

“Don’t cuss, it’ll be a shit ton to deal with in games.” Your hands pull at his wrist desperately.

Your eyes are pleading with him and he feels a jolt up his spine as he watches you struggle, mouth open, nostrils flaring.

“And don’t look at anyone else. Got it?” You take a few more gasps. He’s not being to harsh is he? He’s being firm, and that’s good when your talking to people. You nod furiously in response to his demands.

He releases you from his grasp and you immediately drop onto the sidewalk, one of your hands goes to rub at your neck while the other is splayed on the ground. You take shallow breaths as Kageyama just watches.

Eventually you sit up, and the hand on the ground cups the part of your stomach he hit.

“When-” You take a deeper breath the time, exhaling through your mouth. You’re looking at the sky. “When is your next game?”

“February 18th. I’d like you to be there.” He tries to offer a smile, the kind his Sister told him weren’t creepy.

“Ok,” you nod quickly. For a small second, Kageyama’s eyes meet yours.

He feels warmer than he normally did with you, and he can hear his heartbeat.

“Please uhhh,” He can feel the blush on his cheeks. “Call me Ka-Kageyama.”

“Kageyama?” Your eyes aren’t so wide as you look at his shoes.

He nods and leaves for the rest of practice, you don’t follow, but that’s alright. You’ll find him.

You do find him.

And the next day when he doesn’t see a bruise around your neck, he feels a little bad.

You would’ve looked cute with a dark purple handprint on your neck.

Ushijima

You should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.

Really, you should’ve.

Being an assistant manager to Kurasuno was just going to drive you insane. When he first saw you, you were in the thick of some team discussion.

They were taking a break in between the sets, and Kurasuno was still bickering over how they were to play the game.

You were trying to act as a voice of reason, talking over the others in a calm manner and asking your team to “please take turns speaking”

In true Crow-like fashion, they continue to caw loudly until their coach yells for their attention.

He thinks you’re cute, how you thank the coach with your embarrassed, red cheeks.

But he has a game to finish and win. And then he can see how cute you are when you comfort Kurasuno.

Shiratorizawa wins easy, between Ushijima and the orange haired kid? Ushijima would clearly come out on top.

Ushijima watches as you look with such empathy in your eyes.

You look like you’re about to hug each of the Team. And then, you do.

He’s right, you really are cuter after he beats the crows.

It’s fucking adorable how you furrow your brow and bite your lip as you comfort someone who’s crying.

He wishes he could hear the tender shush you give the person, and though he hasn’t heard your voice he can picture you so clearly with a child in your arms and singing lullabies. He’s standing in the doorway and you smile up at him.

He smiles back.

And your hugging the Kurasuno boys like he’d want to hold you, so tender and delicate when you catch his smile.

You give an affirmative nod and smile before you hug a teammate.

It almost like he’s being pushed forwards to walk over towards you.

You manage to pat the next boy on his shaved head before you give a little wave, say some words and walk over to Ushijima.

You meet in the middle of the  gym.

“I figured I should talk to you away from the team, I’m sure they’d have a-a reaction, to your being there.” You shoot a worried glance behind you towards the boys who have a similar expression on their faces.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The two of you stand in silence, both of your teams are trying to ignore you.

“So-” You begin to speak before Ushijima rests a large hand on your shoulder.

“You’re cute.” He doesn’t give compliments he doesn’t mean. You are the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen.

“I-oh! Thank you!”

Your teams are a mixed bag of staring at the two of you, and the ceiling.

“Was that all?” You speak up first, and aren’t unkind with your intonation.

“Yes,” Ushijima looks down at you, and once again, gives a small smile.

“My team is eager to play against you next time, good luck,” You have a smile brighter than the sun. “Shiratorizawa is gonna need it!” A laugh that carries lighter than the wind too.

Ushijima just nods again and has to tear his eyes away from your lips.

The team is completely silent before he returns.

Goshiki is starry eyed as Ushijima stands there listening to Tendou’s ramblings and the rest of the team just watches that shit go down.

Soon after, the Kurasuno team starts packing up to leave.

“I’ll run back.”

“Is it because you want to talk to that person?” Semi sounds exhausted.

“More or less.”

Ushijima tunes the white noise from his team yes out for a second, before he hears a sharp “Dissmissed!” From Coach Washijo.

He immediately turns around to try and look for you.

The only people left in the gym are Kurasuno’s setter and the kid with Orange hair. You’ve gone somewhere else.

“Where’s your assistant manager?”

“Oh they’re talking to someone!” Orange hair. “They told you we’d beat you next time, and we will!”

“You won’t.” And Ushijima walks out of the doors of Kurasuno’s gym.

He sets a light jog, maybe once he’d find you he’d ask you on a date?

Or maybe, he’s ask you to be his partner. Regardless, he should sure you get home safely.

He finds you with little difficulty, you’re barely off campus and smiling at your phone as you wait to cross an intersection.

“Hey.”

You jump at the sudden intrusion of his voice, and take out an earbud he didn’t notice you had in.

“Oh, hi!” You flash him your third smile of the day. He can feel his heart swell in his chest. “Are you running home?”

“Yes.”

“Have a nice run!” And the intersection clears for you to put your earbud back in, and continue on your route home.

He takes a breath, waits a second and jogs at a slower pace behind you.

“So, why are you going this way, isn’t Shiratorizawa the other direction?”

“Yes.” You look at him with wide eyes. “I get more exersize this way.”

“Oh! I get it, like when Asahi goes on his runs and decides to take detours through trees!”

“Who’s Asahi?”

“He’s our Ace, the tall guy with the bun.”

“Huh.”

“Enjoy your run, you’re gonna need it for the next time you play against us!” Your wind chime laughter echoes in his ears as you wave him a goodbye.

You’re taking a left.

Ushijima takes a left.

You either hear his footsteps or see his shadow, because you turn around.

Your lips aren’t being bitten, your brow isn’t furrowed but you look like you did during the match.

You look worried.

“Listen, I know you probably didn’t pick up on it and you seem really nice, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Please, stop following me.”

“Ok.” It isn’t a setback. Ushijima will be with you eventually. It must’ve been those rowdy crows. They’re incompetent and altogether too used to roughhousing. Of course you wouldn’t want a relationship when those were the kind of people you were around, it made all volleyball players seem immature.

Ushijima is not immature.

“O-oh!” You smile again, almost like you took off a mask you had been wearing. “Normally that goes a lot less smoothly. Thanks for understanding!”

“Can I walk you back to your home?”

“As friends right?”

“As friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue but it’s a necessary step. Like getting manure before you plant your crops.

“Thank you again for understanding!”

It’s an easy enough walk, about two blocks away.

Too quickly are you at the door to your home.

Too soon do you thank Ushijima for understanding your situation and close the door behind you.

Too slowly does Ushijima notice the man walking towards your door.

Tall with a bun.

Kurasuno’s Ace.

Whatever his name was.

“Hello.”

“Oh uh, hey!” He sounds a little meek.

“I walked them home.”

“Uhh thanks man,” The Ace scratches his neck as he walks by Ushijima. “Have a nice day I guess,” The man emits an awkward laugh, and knocks quickly on your door.

It opens, and your eyes are the sun and moon to him.

You hug the man in front of you, quickly drawing him inside the house with what Ushijima thought was an “I missed you,”

Oh.

You lied.

Well, Ushijima could live with that, but maybe when he married you, you wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house.

If you lied to him now, at the beginning of your relationship, how comfortable would you be lying to him when married?

And Kurasuno’s Ace.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t beaten him before.

It would be just like last time.

Kurasuno wouldn’t win.

--

A/N Ok, I've been absent for about two days, sorry about that I hope this is a good tide over till I get my first batch of requests done! I don’t have a time period for when they’re done, but I hope soon! Thank you for reading and have a nice day!

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