#the first month alone was just blocking out all the pages for this fight and the aftermath

[runawaycatwalker]

Part 24. Misaligned Approaches (Oni-Chan 2.0, part A)

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Bonus: The bread lesson Rolland teaches Adrien immediately before this page takes place that I had to cut to save space.

Description below the cut

Alya sits on Marinette’s chaise lounge looking at her phone.  Marinette looks upwards, clenching her fists in vindication.

Alya: Preliminary results about Catwalker are in.  Verdict: Pretty skeevy.

Marinette: I knew it!  Tell me everything!

Alya scrolls through the messages on her phone.

Alya: My informant doesn't have any concrete evidence yet and most of this is just vibes, but...

Alya: Catwalker did specifically mention you by name.

Marinette: What??

Alya: When confronting my informant, Catwalker got defensive and asked if 'someone Marinette knows' sent them.

Marinette places her hand on Alya’s shoulder, looking shaken.  Alya looks up at her with a look of uneasiness.

Marinette: Does that mean he knows you're Rena?

Alya: Or he might be on the verge of discovering your identity.  Either way, I'm certainly not comfortable working alongside him anymore.

From behind, we see Marinette hold a hand up to the sky and clench her other hand in a fist in resolution.

Marinette: Because of Mayura we can't just fire him, but we can contain him.  We'll rely on the rest of the team for all battles and restrict his interactions with everyone.  If he steps out of line, all bets are off and we treat him like he's another akuma.  And we keep investigating.  I just know that he's up to something terrible right now and we've got to put a stop to it!

Rolland shuts a book between his hands entitled Pain.  Adrien holds up a hand and offers a wishful grin.  Behind them is the cabinet of things in Rolland’s living room, including the Lost flyer of Adrien, which is draped over a box.

Rolland: So: Shall we bake?

Adrien: I sure wouldn't mind if you showed me how to make baguettes...

Rolland: Bahaha!  Baguettes!  You are in no way ready to bake baguettes!  No, we start with something far more traditional: the boule!

Rolland holds up a finger.

Rolland: But first: you must wash your hands.

Adrien: Of course!

Rolland: And take off that ring.

Adrien: Wh—what's wrong with my ring?

Rolland grab’s Adrien’s hand and points at the indentations in his ring.

Rolland: Just look at it!  Flour is going to collect in all of those crevices!  It is much simpler to just take off your ring while baking.

Adrien looks at his miraculous in thought.  Behind him is the sink with the handle of a knife poking out of it.

Adrien (internally): I shouldn't take any chances of being caught without wearing my miraculous.  But maybe if I don't stop wearing it...?

Adrien kneels on the ground and uses a knife to cut through the front rubber part of his shoe.

Rolland: What are you doing?

Adrien: Making a hole in my shoe! If I can't wear my ring on my finger... I can still have easy access by slipping it on my toe instead!

Adrien turns his knife aside and uses his other hand to slip his miraculous through the new hole in his shoe.  Rolland’s hand reaches down from above dangerously close to the knife.

Rolland: You are using one of my knives to cut through rubber?!

Adrien: I'll clean it after I'm done, don't worry.

Rolland: That is not the point!

The knife’s edge cuts the back of Rolland’s hand.

Rolland: Give that b—Aaack!

Adrien touches his hands to the bottom of his face.  One hand is still holding the knife, which now has a small spot of blood near the tip.

Adrien: I'm so sorry!  I didn't mean to—!  Please don't fire me!

Rolland: Oh, hush.  It's barely a scratch!

Adrien: I'll get the first aid kit!  Where's the first aid kit?  Do you have a first aid kit?

Rolland: I'll handle that without you.

Rolland waves his hand grumpily.

Rolland: You just worry about washing up my knife!  Without cutting anything that is not food this time!

Adrien: Y-yes, sir!

Rolland slams the doors between the kitchen and living room shut, so that Adrien is alone in the kitchen and Rolland is alone with his collectibles.

Rolland (internally): Don't lose your temper, Rolland.  Baldy's still a child.  He's probably never been in a kitchen before.  Whoever raised him had no idea how it's done.  Teaching him that is your job now.

Rolland digs through the box on his cabinet, one hand picking up the Lost flyer to move it out of the way.  As he does so, Oni-Chan teleports behind him with her sword pointed over his shoulder.

Rolland (internally): Now where did I put those banda—?

Oni-Chan: Where are you keeping Adrien Agreste?

Oni-Chan grabs Rolland’s shirt and holds her sword above his head threateningly.  Rolland is still holding onto the flyer and looks panicked.

Rolland: Aahhh!

Oni-Chan: Tell me where Adrien is before I strike you right where you stand!

Rolland: You mean the missing angel boy?  I don't know!  What does a Chinese monster want with him?

Oni-Chan swings her sword.

Oni-Chan: I'm not a monster!

Rolland has now become frozen in place, covered in splotches of white, red, and black.  Oni-Chan stands behind him, looking back over her shoulder.

Oni-Chan: If anyone else stands in my way, they're getting petrified too.  And for the record, I'm Japanese.

Oni-Chan kicks down the doors into the kitchen.  No one is there, only a slight movement of the window drapes in the background.

Oni-Chan: Hi-yaaah!  Shadowmoth!  He's not here!

Shadowmoth (over akuma connection): The old man must have seen Adrien somewhere.

Oni-Chan: The only sign of Adrien anywhere is on the flyer that man was looking at!  Wait...

Oni-Chan, a butterfly light mask in front of her face showing her communication with Shadowmoth, grabs the Lost flyer and slices through Adrien’s face with her sword.

Oni-Chan: I was promised the ability to track the last person who saw Adrien, but these powers sent me to someone who was just looking at an Adrien picture!

Oni-Chan throws up her hand in frustration.  There is also a closeup of Shadowmoth (also with the butterfly light mask) from his lair, holding out a hand negotiatingly.

Oni-Chan: Do you have any idea how many people are looking at pictures of Adrien?

Shadowmoth: Millions every day.  ...I presume.

Oni-Chan: I will not sift through millions of people merely because you gave me unusable powers!

Shadowmoth: Would you rather I take your powers away and leave you without any leads at all?

Oni-Chan: No!  No, I'll keep my akuma.  But I'm not going to try to get Ladybug and Catwalker's miraculouses for you until after I find Adrien.  You want me to help you?  You help me first.

Shadowmoth: I could create a sentimonster to destroy all instances of Adrien's image until you find the real one.

Oni-Chan: Then do that!

Shadowmoth: I'll need time to prepare the amok.

Oni-Chan starts to teleport away, her expression resolute.

Oni-Chan: Well, I'm not wasting my time waiting.  Have your sentimonster summon me when it's ready.

Cut to Adrien and Plagg outside Rolland’s residence, watching as the light of Oni-Chan’s teleport flashes through the window curtains.  Adrien still has the knife and replaces his miraculous back on his ring finger.

Adrien: Do you think Oni-Chan really came here because Rolland saw me on Marinette's flyer?

Plagg: Probably not.  Akuma powers usually work however the akuma expects them to and Rolland was the last person to see you.

Adrien: But her expectations just changed.  So maybe people seeing pictures of Adrien will be tracked by her powers now?

Plagg: Even if you do turn out to be that lucky, you're still better off being Catwalker instead of Adrien.

Adrien: Right.  Plagg, claws out!

--

Bonus Scene:

Rolland holds up a hand invitingly.

Rolland: Baldy, you have returned from your morning walk!  Now we can begin your lessons in flour!

Adrien: Yeah, okay.

Rolland: What do you mean 'okay'?  I thought you wanted to be my apprentice?

Adrien pulls off his beanie, looking discouraged.

Adrien: Sorry, I just saw a friend and he... Never mind.  It's nothing.

Rolland: Nothing?

Adrien: Bread is the most important thing, right?  Teach me everything I need to know.  I'm... ready.

Rolland: You are not quite ready yet.  First...

Cut to Adrien taking a bite of bread, happily going ‘nom! nom! nom!’.

Rolland: ...You must eat!

Adrien: Ooh!

Rolland: It's from yesterday, but it is better than nothing!  We French know the value of bread, for we remember the days when we did not have it!

Rolland holds up the book Pain : pour les enfants! and reads to Adrien as he finishes his bread.

Rolland: This is today's lesson: how wheat shortage caused the Revolution!  Wheat gives us flour, flour gives us bread, and bread is life!  And when the wheat harvests failed, we survived by eating whatever awful bread from bran we could afford—if we could even afford that!

Rolland points to a picture of Marie Antoinette holding a purple rose in the book, which has the caption “Qu'ils mangent de la brioche”.

Rolland: But who wasn't starving?  The nobility!  They still ate fancy Viennese breads made with refined white flour!  And while France suffered, Marie Antoinette had the gall to tell us ‘Let them eat cake!’

Adrien holds up a correcting finger.

Adrien: Isn't that quote apocryphal?

Rolland: What?

Adrien: No one ever verified that it was Marie Antoinette who said that.  And even if she did, she would have been just a kid at the time.

Rolland: Bah!  That’s not important!

Rolland holds up the book in front of his face.  On one page, a pie chart with 75% blé (wheat) and 25% seigle (rye).  On the other page is a guillotine surrounded by bread and centering the French flag, below which is the caption “Pain d'égalité”.

Rolland: The point is that the people of France revolted because of this, because of bread!  And once we got rid of those pesky nobles, France could have one bread: the bread of equality!  It would be made from all our grains, from wheat to rye, and everyone would eat it!

Adrien: Sounds much simpler.

Rolland: Very simple!  But it wasn't to be.  People still want their fancy flour.

Rolland holds up his wooden peel in one hand and his metal peel in the other in a pose reminiscent of the painting Liberty Leading the People.

Rolland: But once there was no more shortage of wheat, the government decreed that bakers must follow strict rules.  You want to make a baguette?  It must be the right size and made with the right ingredients!  You run a boulangerie?  You must make your bread on-site!  And you must never close shop without warning!  We do this so no one will suffer the pains of being forced to eat terrible bread—or no bread—ever again!  Because here in France, that is how it is done!  So: shall we bake?

Below are the same images as above, only without text:

#runaway catwalker #adrien agreste #rolland dupain #oni-chan #kagami tsurugi #shadowmoth #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #akuma #bread #what do you mean this took 9 whole weeks to post? i thought it's only been 6??? #the first month alone was just blocking out all the pages for this fight and the aftermath #hopefully that means that the next few pages will be faster to finish #again thank you everyone for being so patient #tw minor blood #tw minor injury #letadrieneat2k16

[latenightdaydreams]

Omg girl please do part three for the trucker!!!

Love your writing

Here it isssss!!!! Thank you!🥹

Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader Part3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 2, Part4

Master List

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Hello again🥰 Like parts one and two, three requires a strong trigger warning. I love you all and hope you're having a good day. Stay safe and take care of yourselves🩷

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>cw: fem/afab, non-con, oral, breeding, drugging, p in v

2.3k word count

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It’s been two months that you’ve been with König, 10 weeks to be exact. You’ve gotten into the routine of gas station breaks and over nights at the motel. You’ve learned to not fight him after a few bad incidents. He lets you wash yourself now, but he has to watch. He’s traded zip ties for soft handcuffs while you sleep. When you do bathroom breaks, he lets you go into the woman’s side alone, without the cuffs and during the day time. A small taste of freedom.

You sit on the bed in the back of his truck's cab, arms bound and looped through the metal on the bed so you can’t move. König stopped at a gas station to fill up. You sit and look at all of the people walking past. If only they knew you were here. If only they could help.

König buys you a honey bun, turkey sandwich, water, and a soda. He has become soft on you, in his own twisted way. He enjoys treating you, and he’s learned that you have a sweet tooth. He pays at the register and smiles at the young woman. For once he doesn’t look at someone like her in a predatory way, he has you. You fill the hunger.

König walks to the side and opens your soda. He pours two crushed up sleeping pills into the bottle, knowing that you’ll probably drink this first. He has a drop off coming up and he refuses to take any chances of you escaping.

He walks back to the truck and you perk up. He smiles down at you and holds up the bag of goodies.

“I got treats for you Maus.” König sits in the driver’s seat and takes things out of the bag before standing to take your hands away from the bar so you could eat, still handcuffed though.

“Thank you…” You say in a weak voice.

“When you’re done with that, I have a soda and honeybun for you.” He sits and begins to open his own food and eat.

You smile, food has become your only form of comfort throughout all of this. Just sweet things. It’s almost like you get to be back home for those few moments while you’re eating. The better you behave, the more treats König buys.

You both sit in silence as you eat. He hands you the soda to take drinks from. You thank him as you finish your sandwich.

“Ready for your honey bun?”

“Yes, please.” You look to his blue eyes as he smiles at your submission.

You continue to drink your soda as you eat. You zone out and look out the window, starting to feel tired. You yawn, shaking your head to try and wake yourself up. Looking back at König, you’re blinking slowly. Realizing you were drugged you begin to panic.

“Why?” Your eyelids have become insanely heavy and it’s hard to focus.

“Just for a stop, Maus. I just don’t want you to run away. You’ll be safe.” His voice was oddly soothing.

“I- I wouldn’t.” You begin to struggle to stay awake, your speech slurred and body heavy. You simply can’t fight the pills.

König approaches you and grabs the almost empty soda bottle out of your hand and the half-eaten honey bun; he wraps it up to save it for you. He gently lays you back on the bed and covers your body under the blanket. He hides your hands under so no one could possibly see that you’re handcuffed.

After his drop off, König sits in the driver’s seat using his phone; the truck is blocked off and locked for sleep. He’s moving money from his subscription page, where he has been posting your videos, to his bank account. He looks over at you occasionally, admiring how adorable you look asleep.

He is planning on taking a long break and bringing you to his house. He wants to show you your new home, your new life. Plus, he’s always wanted to settle down and have a family. You seem like you’d be a perfect mom. At the very least you’d make beautiful babies for him.

Standing, he approaches you and speaks softly, “Y/n, you awake?” He shakes your leg slightly. He’s just making sure the sleeping pills are still working. 

Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he drops his pants to the floor. His erection springs from his boxers. He kneels next to the bed and pulls your sweat pants down and looks at your stubbly pussy, brushing his fingers over the texture before pulling your bottoms off all the way.

Spreading your legs apart, he gently kisses down your soft thighs. Kissing over the bitemarks he left from the last time he was down here. Deciding to not record this, he wants to make it a more intimate moment. He is starting to fall in love with you, and sex isn’t just for profit anymore.

He continues to kiss your soft thighs; it’s been two days since you’ve showered so your pussy smells divine. As he gets closer, he takes deep breaths through his nose to completely breathe you in. Finally, his lips meet your sweet warmth. He kisses gently up and down before pressing his face in, burying his nose deep into your lips.

“So süß…” He mutters to himself.

He pulls back and rubs his fingers up and down your pussy, listening to the mushy wet sound. Slipping two fingers into your cunt, he moves back to your pussy and begins to lick your clit gently. He knows you’re asleep, but he still wants to pleasure you. His other hand on his cock, stroking it quickly. He’s been waiting all day to feel you.

Once your pussy becomes creamy wet, he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your natural musk all over his face. Grabbing your panties, he wipes his face off on them and keeps them in his hand. He pulls his pants off his ankles and moves on top of you. Moving your left leg with his hand to give himself space to rest his body on top of you. The space is very small for a normal sized person, for someone 6 '10, it’s almost impossible; but he finds a way.

Sliding his cock inside of you easily, he’s learned the right ways to touch your body and to make you relax enough to take him without struggle. He whimpers pathetically as he feels your wet cunt wrap around him. He rests his full weight on you and wraps one of his arms around you tightly, burying his head into the crook of your neck and bringing his hand holding your panties up so he can continue to breathe you in.

“I’m going to cum Maus.”

As his hips begin to thrust quickly, he moans out your name. His body enveloping yours completely, moving his head from your panties to kiss your neck. Moaning into you as his pace picks up. His balls slapping against your ass hard as he squeezes you tightly in his arms. He lets out a loud moan, shoving your panties into his mouth to muffle the sound as he cums deep inside of you.

Panting hard, he continues to just rest there; not wanting to let go of you. He pulls your panties from his mouth and kisses your cheek softly. Lifting his body off of you, he pulls out, savoring the little pop sound your cunt always makes. König looks down at his cum leaking out of you and uses a finger to shove it back in. He dresses you again and then himself. Putting his phone away, he gets ready to go to sleep.

When you wake up König is already driving again. Your head feels groggy from the pills he snuck into your drink. You look out the window and have to squint because of the sun shining brightly through the windows.

Hearing you stir, König looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Guten Morgen, meine Liebe.”

“My head hurts,” you say in a sleepy voice that makes his heart warm. “And I have to pee.”

König chuckles and nods his head, “We will be stopping soon. You can get out and use the bathroom. We can also get you a treat, whatever you want.”

“Thank you…”

“So, I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time we take a break from the road and I take you home.”

The thought of being taken to his home makes your stomach drop. Everyday on the road you see small chances of possibly running away, an odd sense of freedom when you go to the rest stop. What if you never leave the house again? That would be your final stop.

“And maybe it’s time we think about children, I’ve always wanted a big family.”

His voice shatters your internal thoughts as you look up at him with panic. Technically, you’ve been having unprotected sex already, but he never cums in you, so you think. The thought of having his children, let alone this mans, makes you feel terrified and sick to your very core. Death would be kinder than being his breeding slave. You don’t respond, just zoning out and it catches König’s attention.

“Something wrong Maus?”

“N-no,” you think quickly on your toes, “I guess I just never saw myself having kids.”

“No? You’d be a wonderful mother. You’d make beautiful children, especially with my sperm.”

That just grosses you out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a good father.”

How can you be when you’ve kidnapped and assaulted their would be mother? You think to yourself trying to suppress the new waves of anxiety this talk is giving you. You decide to try and change topics.

“I’m sorry to be whiny, but I really have to pee.”

“Ja, ja, okay.” König drives on just a little while longer before turning off into the first rest stop he sees. He parks the semi before standing and approaching you. He grabs your shoes for you and kneels down looking at your beautiful face. His Maus.

“Remember the rules. Eyes down, don’t talk to anybody, in and out. Then we can pick out a treat and head back home.”

Home. Hell.

“I remember.” You nod your head as he helps you put your shoes on.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the key to your cuffs. He unlocks you and the scars from the zip ties are still visible. He combs your hair back with a small purple comb to make sure you look presentable. There are always odd people here, so not many questions get asked anyway.

You finally step out of the truck, König’s fingers intertwined with yours as you walk. The hot sun on your skin makes you feel so alive, like you’re real. König stands there for a while and lets you take in its warmth before he tugs your arm for you to follow him.

You both walk inside and an older woman greets you both. König responds, but you keep your head down like you were told. He walks you to the bathroom and whispers in your ears.

“Remember, in and out. Quick.”

You nod in understanding and step into the restroom. Freedom. You rush into a stall and begin to pee hard, letting out a sigh of relief as you relax your shoulders and slump forward. You linger for a while before you wipe, any little small thing that you can do to extend your time alone you do.

Stepping out to wash your hands, you hear the door open and see an old lady with a cane walk in. She smiles at you kindly and you smile back before she goes into a stall. You want to ask for help, but she’s so old you’re scared she wouldn’t understand.

You dry your hands as the bathroom door opens again and as it lingers open, you can hear so many voices talking. You wonder what’s going on as you leave the bathroom.

Opening the door, you’re surrounded by a sea of older people waiting to go in. They just got off a bus for a rest break. You look over at König and see him a little bit away from you as the rude older people push their way past him. His eyes on you like a hawk. You stand there for a while, between the door to freedom, and going back to König. You could ask for help here, but what if he really kills all these innocent people?

König is currently cut off by at least 5 people, meaning he would have to go around then to hurry to you. You saw buildings on your way here, so you could possibly just run until you reach safety. Run and lose him so you can safely call for help.

This feels like it’s been an hour of thinking when really only five seconds pass. Looking at König still, you turn and run. The fastest you’ve ever ran in your life, catching the attention of everyone, not just König.

Running out of the door and heading towards the road, you just let your fight or flight carry you away.

König’s heart sinks as he sees you do that; you’ve been so well behaved he almost can’t believe you’d do this to him. With no care, he barrels through the line of people and goes out the door after you. Everyone at the stop is confused as they watch two people run in what looks like a chase.

König’s massive body is running after you at full speed, trying to catch up to you quickly before anyone can call for help or you can reach safety.

“MAUS!” He shouts after you.

You can hear his booming voice as you run, you don’t stop. You know if you do, he will catch you. There is no telling what an angry König would do. Tears begin to stream down your face as you run, your heart beat pounding in your ears. A little voice telling you to just keep going, don’t stop.

Part 4

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Tag: @nachofriess

#please read the warnings #tw: noncon #konig #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #konig cod #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader smut #konig x you #konig x reader smut

[giggly-squiggily]

Helloooooooooo! Can I request lee!Itadori and ler!Gojo? Perhaps poor poor yuuuji is having a bad day and Gojo just has to cheer him up cuz he is his dear dear student??

Thank youuuuu^^ (Your fics are AWESOME btw)

Oo, I love this!!! I haven't written enough JJK here on my blog! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D (Thank you so much! I appreciate it!)

It was a strange day when the team’s sunshine was down and out.

Yuji Itadori- a walking ball of energetic sunshine- was uncharacteristically quiet. He didn’t talk much, only answering questions with simple replies, and his few rare smiles were ghostly and heavy.

“Did something happen?” Gojo asked as the day went on, growing increasingly worried for his student. He figured he woke up on the wrong side of the bed and would bounce back after breakfast, but he only seemed to wilt further as the day went on.

“I don’t know- I tried everything I could think of to get him happy again, but nothing worked.” Nobara shook her head in defeat, folding her arms in thought. “Maybe he got bad news?”

“Not likely- it would have to go through me before it goes to him.” Gojo hummed. “Got his heart broken?”

“Hasn’t been on any recent dates. Anniversary of his grandfather’s death?”

“Nope- that was a few months ago.” Gojo tilted his head, tapping his chin. “Did he get into a fight with Megumi?”

“Who’d I fight?” Said boy asked as he walked up. After a quick briefing, he was just as confused. “Maybe he’s just having a bad day. We all get those once and awhile.”

“Yeah but…it’s weird, seeing him so down.” Nobara tightened her arms around herself, brows furrowing. “If I knew what was wrong, I could fix it.”

“I don’t think there’s a straw doll technique that could.” Megumi shrugged, earning a light glare from the girl. Gojo on the other hand looked suddenly thoughtful.

“Maybe not a curse technique, but…” He grinned. “I think I know what to do.”

~~~

Yuji was laying in his bed when Gojo appeared, halfheartedly reading a volume of Chainsaw Man. His headphones were in, soft music blocking out the world around him. To anyone else, it’d be a clear sign he wanted to be left alone.

For Gojo however, it was an invitation to strike.

Putting his skills to work, he placed himself on Yuji’s bed, hovering over the younger sorcerer with an easy grin. Then he leaned in so his nose was hovering over the manga, waiting for Yuji to notice him.

The younger boy let out a low sigh as he went to turn the page, eyes flicking upward at Gojo. Silence. Then-

“AH!” Yuji squawked, manga tumbling out of hand and headphones flying off his ears as he scooted back on the bed, staring at his teacher. “G-Gojo sensei! What- how- when-”

“Who, where, why?” Gojo finished, closing the discarded manga and tossing it on the nearby table. “That’s what I’d like to know. First of all: How are you?”

“I uh…” Yuji’s shock faded some, that sad look from earlier returning. “I’m fine. Just…”

“Moping in your room, reading manga and pretending the world doesn’t exist?” Gojo asked, pushing Yuji down by his shoulder. “Relatable, but we can’t have that now, can we?”

“G-Gojo-sensei? What are you-” Yuji began, lips flattening and eyes widening when a finger wiggled into his armpit. He squeezed his arm tightly against his torso, trying to block out the invasive finger. “N-No! No do-don’t!”

“Oh? Why not?” Gojo teased, motivated by the wobbly smile on Yuji’s lips. He added a second finger, a third, and before long he had pushed his entire hand into Yuji’s armpit, clawing gently and earning even more struggles from the other. “Is someone ticklish?”

“Yo-You alreahahdy know thahahhat!” Yuji tried to argue, giggles pushing past his lips as he squirmed. This was NOT how he planned on spending the rest of his “Mope hours”! “Goohohohohjo, wahahahhait!”

“No way- you’re still sad! I won’t stop until you’re happy again!” Gojo shot his other hand into Yuji’s pit, earning an arch and a squeal. With that, he was laughing, twisting about on the bed as he tried getting away from Gojo’s tickly fingers. “Come on, let me see you smiling!”

“Nohoohohohoho! I wahahhahant to mohohohohohope!” He cried, cheeks pink and eyes squeezed shut with mirth. “Lehehehhehet me behehehehehehehhee!”

Gojo’s response was to drop a hand to his belly, drilling into the center and making Yuji shriek. He went to shove his hand away, but that only opened his armpits up further for more tickling. ‘Coohohohohohohome ohohohohohon, this ihihihiihihisn’t fahhahahahhahair!”

“All is fair in a tickle war!” Gojo chimed, stretching his fingers back further so he could prod the back of Yuji’s ribs, earning a snort. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“AHEHAHHAHAHA! FIIHIHIHINE, FIIHHIIHIHNE!”

“Promise?”

“YEEHEHHEHEHS!”

“Reeaaallly promise?’

“GOHOHOOHOHJO!”

“....You sure?”

“I PROHOOHOMIHIHIHISE NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Yuji cried, gasping for air when the tickling came to an end. “Ehehehehe..hehehehhe…yohohohoohu’re ehehhehevil!”

“Mmhmm! The evilest sensei you’ve ever had!” Gojo skittered his fingers over Yuji’s belly before climbing off him, flopping at the end of the bed with a grin. “So, what’s going on, sunshine?”

“Ehehe!” Yuji spasmed, giggling. With a wave, he sat up , crossing his legs as he caught his breath. “Heh…I’m fine, really.” At Gojo’s raised brow, Yuji pushed on. “No, for real. I just…I had a rough night.”

“Nightmare?” Gojo asked, watching Yuji nod. “Wanna talk about it?”

“....No, not really.” Yuji shook his head, looking up with a small but genuine smile. “I’m feeling better- I don’t want to go back to that right now.”

“Fair enough.” Gojo nodded, reaching out and patting Yuji’s leg. “If you ever need to talk though- you know where I am.”

“Thanks, Gojo.” Yuji’s smile grew, as did Gojo’s.

“Anytime. Hey- let’s go get food with the gang. My treat.” Gojo stood, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I heard there’s this new place that opened up; they sell gyoza. Hungry?”

Almost on cue, Yuji’s stomach growled, making them laugh. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Thanks for reading!

#JJK #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #The way I had to tone this one down cause it was getting too heavy at the end #I'm on the flow while writing this so things tend to get extra angsty those days #this isn't angsty though #I reeled it in #just straight up floof #and some cheer up tickles! :D

[foxybananaaaz]

3k Words

If you have not yet read any of the other parts, please click the Title Page to go to the start.

Lucien Week Day Six :: Romance.

From past to present, do you see Lucien with a romantic partner? @lucienweekofficial

Let's start this part, a little... different.

Elain Archeron had been spending far too much time on her own over the past few months. Save for dinners, or when she would go visit with Lucien in the Day Court, which was more often than anyone at home knew, or would like, had they known.

She was constantly treated as a child, as though she could not hold her own, could not decide things, and needed help.

With Lucien, she felt free. She felt as though she could take on the world. She got the feeling he would let her take his life if situations got so dire. With Lucien, things were simple but also incredibly complicated.

Was the reason her feelings were changing, because of the bond, or were they changing all on their own? They were friends, and while she saw how he would wish for more, she also saw him fight those wishes, those thoughts, the urges the bond made him feel, want. Lucien fought against his instincts, to make her comfortable.

The thread that tied them did not glow, but her heart did feel as though it skipped a beat, while her stomach had the fluttering feeling she had only felt at the beginning of her courtship with Greyson.

Elain was finding that she was finalising her decision she had been considering for a few weeks now. One that would not be taken well, or even easily amongst her sisters, or their family. But it was a decision she was making on her own.

She remembered something Lucien had said a what felt like forever ago, "My Lady, whenever you wish for me to visit, all you need to do is give a little tug, and I will be right there by your side before you know it." And so, without hesitation, without thinking about it, without realizing that it was the middle of the night, and before she really could stop herself at all, Elain took hold of that thread, and gave it a gentle, but firm tug.

She had made up her mind. Her only concern was if there would be a rejection.

*** *** ***

Lucien was on his bed, unable to sleep. He was trying to block out the sound of his mother and Helion reuniting. Again. Every night. For the fifth week in a row. He knew Helion had a reputation, that as much was common knowledge. But his mother?

Clearly, she'd have had to, having seven sons, but still. He didn't want to think about it, let alone be forced to listen to it.

When he felt the first one, he groaned, thinking the reuniting pair was now affecting the house itself. Until he felt it again, and he could not mistake what it was. Nearly crying in relief when he realized what it was.

Finally having an excuse to leave, Lucien wrote a quick note, not knowing how long he would be, and left the house and made it out the gate before winnowing away.

He landed at the edge of the property, and started to make his way up the walk, already seeing Elain waiting there for him, a dazzling smile on his face, causing Lucien to stumble a step. His stumble only caused Elain to giggle into her hand, which he heard clearly. An entirely new sound, one he had to fight to stay standing, and finish his way to her.

When Lucien finally reached his mate, his friend, he was shocked how she pulled him in for a hug right away. Elain usually avoided contact, not wanting to set the bond off more than necessary. Yet here she was, being the one to initiate the contact with a hug. Lucien wouldn't complain, but he sure was confused as he hugged her back.

When Elain did pull back, she kept a hand on his arm with a smile. Lucien just stood there, at a loss for words, dumbstruck. But he had to restrain himself. The two of them were friends. He could not give into these instincts that were so hard to control that the mating bond put forth.

Elain spoke then, mentioning how she did not belong here, at the Night Court. How she needed to get out. She paused there as if she hoped Lucien would pick up on the hint.

The only thing Lucien did pick up on, though, was how Elain mentioned she didn't belong in the Night Court. Which was what caused him to leave.

Lucien quickly explained to Elain that she should not exile herself from her family, that it was not worth losing her family over. Though he grew confused as he saw Elain shake her head.

Lucien listened closely as Elain repeated herself, saying how she did not belong here and did not fit in to the Night Court. There was a certain emphasis on the word night, a small amount, but it was there.

That's when it clicked with Lucien, and his eyes widened. The metal eye looked his mate over as if to make sure there were no spells or glamour on her. When none was found, Lucien spoke.

"You want ... to come to the Day Court?" Lucien asked, as if he were clarifying, to make sure he understood correctly.

Elain simply nodded and informed him that her sisters would not react kindly. That the High Lord would react with anger. They would fight to keep her here because it was a big decision, and they should discuss it amongst themselves, leaving Elain out of it.

Luciens anger rose. He had suspicions that she did not get choices or a say here, but to have it confirmed with what she had just said. To know that his mate was stuck, without the chance to even make a decision on some of the simplest things, infuriated not just the instincts the mate bond gave him, but also who he was to his core, after witnessing his mother trapped his whole life.

To know Feyre also would allow this after she escaped Tamlin for doing the same thing to her. She knew what having very little to no choice was like. How could she do this or allow this to happen to her own sister?

Lucien forced himself to calm down enough to not frighten or concern his mate. "My Lady, if you feel like you need to move, if you wish to go somewhere else, you are going to. I will make sure of that. Go to the Day Court ... go onto my patio," Lucien added, remembering the reuniting that was going on. "I'll go in to pack for you."

Elain simply shook her head, explaining how there was no need to, that she had been bringing over all her important items over the past few weeks, tucking them in a box she had brought, and put in Luciens cupboards. "I've known for a while that I don't belong here. I've known for a while that I want to live with you and your parents in the Day Court. If you all would allow it."

Elain then took Luciens' hand, and the moment their hands touched, the two were back in Luciens' room. It was like no winnowing he had ever felt before.

Elain then pulled Lucien behind her as she walked towards an area of Helions' house that he hadn't been to before.

"Would you dance with me?" Elain had asked Lucien as they reached a room, and she opened the doors to what looked like a ballroom. "I'm not as good as Nesta, I didn't get all the lessons, but I can dance party dances, and it's been so long, I do miss it." Elain finished as she stepped inside, bringing Lucien along as she was still holding his hand.

Lucien stood there, unknowing how he could deny her request, but he couldn't deny it even if he wished to. Elain looked so eager, and her request was such a simple one. How couldn't he agree? How could someone deny her when she was looking at them, with such hopeful excitement in her beautiful eyes, the colour of a young fawns coat.

So he agreed, though he was nowhere near dressed appropriately for any form of dancing. But no one would be watching, so it shouldn't matter too much.

Elain finally let go of Luciens' hand, which was immediately cold and feeling empty, so she could go turn on some music quietly before running back over, finishing with a curtsey.

Unable to stop the smile of pure joy that spread across his face, Lucien returned Elains curtsey with a deep bow, and when he straightened up, he saw Elain smiling widely as well. Though he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly more coloured than a few seconds before.

And so, the two began dancing, losing themselves to the music.

It wasn't until they finished their seventh dance, pressed together, that they had to stop. The two of them were tired, having both been up all night, and just danced through seven songs.

They may have finished dancing, yet neither of them moved to separate from the other. Both smiling and breathing hard, looking to the other, as though they had not had fun like that in their whole lives.

Still, neither of them moving. The two continued to look the other in the eyes. Their smiles slowly faded, but their gazes grew more intense.

"Lucien, I-" Elain began softly, quietly.

"Well, I am genuinely sorry because I can't tell you enough how much I truly hate to break this up, but we have company"

Lucien and Elain both jumped apart as if the other burned them, turning towards the door, the intruder, the voice that wasn't supposed to be there.

Lucien saw his mother standing there with Helion, along with-

Elain grabbed Luciens hand. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly, and this was the only indicator of her fear. Lucien squeezed her hand gently, offering her comfort the same way she was showing him her fear.

Lucien recognized her fear as he saw Rhysand, Feyre, and the Viper.

"Rhysand and Feyre claim that we have taken a high status member of their Court." Helion spoke with a dismissive air to his tone, as if he could tell which way this would go. But Lucien knew the tone would turn dangerous if the conversation turned to even the smallest amount of violence on his lands.

"We did not take her. We freed her. Just as Rhysand freed Feyre when he had his cousin retrieve her from the Spring Court, while Tamlin and I were away." Lucien responded, with a disinterested tone himself.

"Freed? And you would compare the two situations?" Rhysand asked in disbelief.

"Elain?" Feyre had called out to her sister.

When Elain did not speak, Lucien continued. "Yes, freed. Elain told me that she was not free to make her own decisions. That everything she does has to go through the groups approval. It is similar to what Feyre went through after we came out of the mountain. Tamlin refused to let her do what she wanted and would constantly make decisions for her." Lucien explained, seeing realization dawn in Feyres eyes as she remembered what Lucien was talking about.

"I also grew up, watching my whole life, as a female had her choices and freedom removed from her. The whole Court loved her, but they didn't see the pain she was in." Lucien spoke, looking towards his mother. "No one saw the amount pain she was in. Even those who loved her the most."

Lucien then looked back to their guests. "So no, We didn't take her. From our standpoint, and from what she has told us, we freed her."

"She is a high-ranking member of my court." Rhysand responded, not backing down.

"She is my mate." Lucien returned, looking down at Elain. He knew this would be the winning card. He went into this, not wanting to use it, but he was left with no choice.

"She's our sister." The viper spat, fury in her eyes.

Lucien looked towards Nesta and then Feyre. Feyre at least seemed to understand what Lucien meant. "There seems to be a key difference between the fae and human lands you are unaware of yet." Lucien spoke, his tone taking a more apologetic tone as he looked down at Elain. He knew she wouldn't like this next part, even if he worded it the least offensive way he could.

"Being my mate, there is a certain ... claim that I have that even you, as her sister, do not have." He gently squeezed Elains hand, trying to let her know that they were only words to him. Only words to get her to stay, it it was what she truly wanted.

"Even Feyre, as Tamlins Fiancé, as she was not yet married to him when Rhysand announced that he and Feyre were mates, Tamlin could react, sure. But if he tried to take her back, it would have caused a war." Lucien explained. "Mates are rare and are treasured when they do occur."

"Elain?" Feyre tried again. And finally, Elain spoke up.

"I have been planning to come here for the past few weeks. I do not fit in in the Night Court. I asked Lucien to bring me here, if it would be alright if I came here. I was planning to ask Helion in the morning." Elain explained, her hand shaking more, yet her posture and her voice did not betray her. "This is my choice." Elain finished before walking off, dragging Lucien behind her, refusing to let him go.

Lucien heard Helion behind them, sounding as if he were ending the discussion. "Well, you heard her. It is her choice to be here. I'm not going to strip her of her choice. And Lucien is right. She is his mate. You can't exactly change that. Now, unless you plan on visiting socially, forgive me as I ask you to-" and Lucien couldn't hear the rest of what Helion said, as he and Elain were too far away.

"Elain, about what I said, at the end there, please understand I didn't mean it. I'd never lay cl-" Lucien started until he was interrupted.

Lucien was interrupted by Elain grabbing the back of his head, and pulling it down to reach as she kissed him.

Frozen, for just about a second and a half, Lucien finally pulled himself together and moved to place his hands on either side of Elains face and return her kiss.

After he started to kiss her back, Elain let the back of his head go, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rose up on her toes so Lucien wasn't bending down so low.

The small thread that tied the two of them together glowed golden and bright. It pulsed, it sang, it thrived, and it came alive. Their very souls started dancing together just like they had been an hour before. Gravity ceased to exist as it felt like they were floating a foot off the ground. They weren't only brightly golden on the inside, as the sunrise was aimed directly at them, painting their bodies golden as well.

The kiss lasted less than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a glorious eternity. Lucien didn't want to pull back, but he needed to. Being caught off guard, he didn't have the breath to continue any longer.

So Lucien pulled back and looked towards Elain, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. How had he gotten so lucky to end up with her as his mate?

"I hope you know that that will make it impossible to fight off the instincts and stay just friends." Lucien spoke first, looking into his mates eyes, with nothing but adoration and awe.

Smiling, Elain reached up, giving Lucien another quick kiss before responding herself. "Did you not get the hint? I don't want to stay just friends." Elains smile only widened before hugging Lucien.

Elains hug felt like home.

Lucien felt, well, he felt his heart swell. He felt wanted in a different way from all those months ago when Helion had told him that he would never be exiled from the Day Court. The two were friends, but that statement from Elain felt like more.

Lucien, as a rule, rarely let himself hope. Because his hopes were always crushed right in front of him. But he hoped for the Day Court and Helion, and he hasn't been let down yet. Could he allow himself to hope for this?

In the back of his mind, he could hear the words pulsing.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

To read the next part, press its title, In The Afternoon

This is not Inner Circle hate. It is taking canon information about Elain from Silver Flames(Nesta and Cassians thoughts on how the Night Court doesn't suit her, and Nesta, Azriel and Rhysand making decisions on Elains behalf), and ... slightly tweaking it to fit the narrative here.

#Lucien Week 2023 #Prompt: Romance #Lucien Vanserra #Elain Archeron #Elucien #A Court of Thorns and Roses #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #Pro Lucien Vanserra #Pro Elucien #LucienWeek2023

[constant-mason24]

Video Killed the Radio Star (Chapter Ten)

Riddler x f!Reader

“It’s an absolute pleasure to be able to speak with you on the show, Ms. Guthrie.” (Y/n) flashed a grin that was mostly fake. She sat in her usual desk chair, with her guest sitting in a more plush wingchair. It had been brought in just for her, as this was the first guest interview the station had hosted in a while.

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m honored to be invited to come and speak about the reparations from that attack.” The woman dramatically placed a hand on her cheek, as if cameras were rolling to broadcast her reaction. 

Now, (Y/n) had long since gotten over her childish dislike of the color pink. Still, she couldn’t lie: Gloria Guthrie wore an absolutely disgusting amount of the color. When she walked in and started speaking to Ryan, Amelia had even leaned over and whispered something about Dolores Umbridge not being invited to the party. Now (Y/n) couldn’t get the joke out of her head, desperately fighting off a Freudian slip so as not to offend her. 

“Yes, so to summarize for you, our dear listeners,” she spoke to the audience. “You likely remember the chemical attack launched on Gotham City’s west end last November. Our special guest today, miss Gloria Guthrie, has been assisting the labs conducting research on the plant toxins Poison Ivy used. Her generous financial donations have helped further study to create an antidote for the criminal’s various harmful substances.”

“Oh, it was such a terrifying attack!” Guthrie spoke as if she were a high school theater student reading lines in an audition. “I remember the roads being blocked off by those giant, twisted, thorned vines!”

“It was a vicious attack on the city streets. Of course, for us Gothamites, that’s just another Tuesday.” (Y/n) joked.

“That’s exactly why I wanted to donate to the research.” Guthrie’s overdramatic acting did not cease. “I hope that those hard-working scientists can create an antidote strong and plentiful enough to null any future attacks from Poison Ivy!”

“I sincerely hope for that as well. One less villain causing mayhem through the city would be a miracle for Gotham.” She nods. “Which leads me to my next point. You’ve donated to the cause against plant-based chemical warfare, but I have yet to see you aid in any other financial crusades against Gotham’s villains.”

“What?” Guthrie raises a brow in offense. “I offer money up for the good of the city and all you can ask is why I haven’t done so sooner? Forgive me, that sounds quite ungrateful!”

“You misunderstand!” (Y/n) began backpedaling, worried this interview would come to a forceful close before her grand finale. “I just want to ask you why you chose this particular cause. You could have chosen to offer your money in aid against any other criminal in Gotham, and I don’t think I’m alone when I say there are far greater threats here than Poison ivy. She is certainly strong and strong-willed, but wouldn’t you rather help to take down someone like the Joker instead?”

“Well, I have a more… personal reason to want an antidote for the plant toxins.” The woman in pink leaned back in her chair, looking more solemn than before. “It’s not the easiest topic for me to discuss, but my nephew was hit in the attack.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” (Y/n) frowned.

“He was comatose for nearly a month, and once he was awake, he couldn’t walk or speak. That toxin has given him a lot of trouble, both mentally and physically. He’s been staying with me since the incident, and his nightmares are just awful. I can’t tell you how many times a night I wake up to his screaming.”

(Y/n) feels her heart breaking for this woman, despite her obnoxious nature. She seemed so genuinely upset by her nephew’s ailment. Taking a deep breath, she looks down at the page of keynotes in her hands. The bottom edge of the paper was folded upwards, covering the elegant green writing of the final bullet point.

“I’m genuinely so sorry to hear that. From what I’ve heard of the attack, the results have been deadly for many victims. I hope that he can recover soon.��

“So do I. That’s why I want to help S.T.A.R. labs in their search for answers. Poison Ivy may have been locked up for that assault on our city, but her victims are still suffering.”

Nodding, (Y/n) fidgets her finger over the folded edge of the paper, contemplating whether to peel it back or wait a little longer. 

“I’m sorry if this seems a little rude,” Guthrie speaks again, drawing (Y/n)’s attention up to her with raised brows. “But I’m not feeling all too well. I’m glad to have shed some light on the situation and why I’m here, but I’d like to go home if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Miss Guthrie,” she nods. “I’m sorry to have upset you. If I could just close on one last question before you go?”

This was it. Now or never. (Y/n) may have royally screwed up her chance to fulfill the Riddler’s quest by upsetting this woman accidentally. If she didn’t agree to this last question, (Y/n) was through. 

“I guess one last question is fair.” Gloria nodded. “What would that be?”

(Y/n) took another breath, moving to flip down the folded edge of the paper. As her eyes quickly glanced over the sentence, she held back a gasp. Not exactly subtle, but she supposed that was the point.

“Alone from my parliament, talons withdrawn. Strengthened by dusk but feeble by dawn.” She reads from the page, only looking up when she finished reciting the note. Gloria Guthrie was staring back at her, eyes narrow and angry. This must have hit its intended target then. 

“That isn’t exactly a question.” She says, her tone of voice failing to convey the anger on her face. 

“You’re right. My apologies. I forgot to ask the ‘Who am I?’ part.” A lie, there was no ‘Who am I?’ written on the page. (Y/n) had put some thought into getting to this point: the part of the show where she could poise the riddle to the woman as instructed. She had put no thought into how to back herself out of that corner afterward. 

“I don’t understand why you’re asking me a riddle, Miss (L/n), but the answer is an Owl. Now I’ll be saying my goodbyes.”

Amelia stepped in, to switch the station over to a song, walking Gloria Guthrie- who kept glaring at (Y/n) the entire time- out of the station. That must have been why the Riddler asked her to do this. Not only had she made it clear the Riddler was seeking Guthrie's attention, but now she was irreversibly tied to the Riddler in the Court of Owl’s eyes. Whatever the Riddler got into with them, she was sure to be dragged into it too.

What the fuck had she done?

#riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #court of owls OC

[ahundredtimesover]

Inevitable (Prologue) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Prologue Word count: 2.2k

Summary:   You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I’ve had this story in my head for months and I’m glad I finally got to put this into writing! This little family was such a joy to write, and I thank the sweetest soul, Ava @btstannies for letting me gush over this trio and hyping me up everyday! Also, my baseball knowledge is pretty shallow so please forgive me!

Listen to: Walking By by Something Corporate

Series Masterlist || Next

~ 

“We’re here.” 

The deep voice cuts through the numbness you feel, blowing life into your body that’s chosen to block out the pain for now because you know after this, it’s going to hurt a lot more. 

You taste iron on your lips. You feel the sting in your eyes. You see the crescent nail marks on your palms. Then you slacken your jaw and try to breathe.

“You can cry, you know?” But Taehyung knows you won’t. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man whose heart you’re about to break. 

Your best friend knows you, knows you’ll only cry when you’re alone - under the covers, in the shower, on your bedroom floor. You don’t let anybody see you like that. It makes you feel like you don’t have control, and control is the one thing you need to have right now.

“I will.”

“You also don’t have to do this.”

But Taehyung also knows you still will. It’s a decision you made on your own and he knows you well enough that nothing - no one - will make you change your mind. 

“I need to.”

He hums; it’s a battle he won’t win. So he exits the car, opens the passenger seat door, and pulls you out. “I’ll be here when it’s over.”

When it’s over. Over. That’s what it’ll be after this.

**

You ring the doorbell and hear the faint footsteps get louder. The door opens and joyful onyx eyes greet you, a contrast to your tired brown ones. He takes it for something else, perhaps stress, since he doesn’t say anything about it.

Jungkook pulls you in a hug and you will yourself not to bask in his sweet scent, not to let his soft giggle on your neck and peck on your cheek and whisper of “I missed you” make you forget why you’re here in the first place. 

He tugs you inside the apartment, the one the team offered him because he couldn’t abide by the university dorm’s curfew, being that he trains too early and finishes too late. It had been a blessing to you both, as in the course of your over two years together, you’d taken advantage of the privacy and solitude it provided. 

You can’t imagine what it would give him after this. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. All these calls with the Dodgers’ owner, then manager, then coach. You think they’d all just call at once but they’re in different cities, I guess,” he shrugs and turns to you. “They’ve been excited,” he continues, his smile reaching his eyes. 

It’s never pained you until now. 

“As they should,” you try a smile. “They’re lucky you signed.”

He chuckles at this. He’s always been amused at your oblivion with how these things work. He’s lucky he even caught the eye of a scout, lucky they even paid attention, lucky that the LA Dodgers wanted to give him a shot with their AAA affiliate team in the minor league. 

If he’s even luckier, maybe he can get to the major league in three years; two would be a miracle. It’s what he’s worked so hard for, it’s why the decision to move thousands of miles away was a no-brainer. Not everyone gets a chance to play in the most popular baseball league like this.

But Jungkook doesn’t know any better, doesn’t know that you know how these things work. You wouldn’t be doing what you’re about to if you didn’t. 

“I’m glad you called, though,” he says, nerves teeming with excitement at his news. Well, proposal. It might be a difficult sell with you but he knows it’s not impossible. 

It came to him one day, in the middle of a conference call with the owner who kept raving about his soon-to-be home. 

“Oklahoma City is great, Jungkook. You’re gonna love it there,” the man had said. Jungkook wasn’t completely sold on the city but he knew you’d enjoy the museums, knew you’d enjoy watching the OKC Thunder play - you were always more into basketball than baseball, anyway. 

Everything had been so fast - from the meetings to the contract-signing to the planning of his move to the US - but he couldn’t imagine starting his life there without you and he just knew he had to have you there with him. 

He could help you find a job or you could do freelance work; what he’d earn could be enough if you both plan things out well, he thought. He was smiling like an idiot during that call, thinking about the next phase of your life together and he couldn’t wait to tell you. 

You’d been caught up with your final projects and school events and he’d been caught up with his papers but you’re here with him now. 

“So I was thinking and—.”

“We should break up.”

You say at the same time. For the first time, his wide eyes mirror yours - sullen and dark, but glassy, too because he did not just hear you tell him that you two should end this. 

Everything had been going so well. You’d been so excited when he got signed to the Minor League, was celebrating with him in all ways you both knew how. There were no talks about breakups, no ending things. It seemed like a given that you’d both stay together; long distance relationships are hard but there are ways to manage. He knew that. He thought you knew that, thought you felt the same, too.

He stares at you, unable to make a sound, to form words that would be remotely close to what he wants to say. His heart is breaking by the second and you stare back at him. There’s no sign of guilt. You’re not taking it back, you’re not saying anything. 

“You don’t mean this, ___. Tell me you don’t mean this.”

“I do,” you sigh. “I just think it’s best if we end this.”

He wishes you had not said anything at all. 

“Why?” He stammers, willing himself to face whatever fucked up reason you have for wanting to break up. It doesn’t seem real. He’s suffocating with how forward you are, with how unbothered you seem while he feels his world slowly crumbling. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

“We haven’t even tried. I mean, I’m not leaving yet, we have a few more months to figure it out.”

“It’s months enough to get over this so we can move on. It’ll just be harder then. We know it’s gonna happen anyway,” you lie. 

You see the shock on his face, the disbelief in the words coming out of your mouth. This isn’t the woman who he laid in bed with just a week ago, naked, giggling, kissing him. 

“Babe, you can’t do this. I want you—no, I need you to be with me,” he continues, voice strangled, the thoughts of asking you to come with him drifting away.

“I don’t.” It’s another lie, but it’s one you need to tell. 

You’re uncompromising, resolute in your decision. Your almost emotionless face - tightened features and completely dry eyes - is a contrast to his. You can’t break. You can’t back out from this. 

He muffles his cries, heart breaking at the coldness of your words. 

“You’re all you need, Jungkook,” you continue. “There’s nothing else I can give you that you won’t get there.” Another lie. You know that no one could love him as much as you. It’s why you’re doing this.

“Don’t do this to me, please.”

“Don’t do this to me, too, Jungkook. You have an entire life to live out there. You’re the one leaving and I’m supposed to just stay here and wait for you? Until your dream is enough? Live my life in limbo until we can be together again in god knows when? Expect that video calls will make up for the distance? What about me and my own life? What about my needs?”

It’s messed up but that’s what you do when you love someone, right? You hurt them? And you let them go? 

You can only hope that one day, he’ll understand; that one day, he can forgive you. That one day, he’ll accept that you had to do this. It’s that hope you hang onto - that you’ll hang onto for years to come - just so you won’t fall apart. It’s only that hope where you can derive your strength from because you’ll have to be strong for someone else now. Someone who isn’t him.

“We— we can work it out. We’ll try, okay?. We’ll figure something out.” He stutters, still unbelieving that this is happening, that he is begging you to be on the same page with him, begging you to fight for this with him. 

“But what if we can’t? What if it becomes too much? You know what it would take to make it and I can’t hold you back, Jungkook. My life is here, my family and my friends are here. I have a job waiting for me, so you can’t hold me back either. It’s unfair to both of us.”

He’s looking at you, desperate to find a crack, to find an opening. But there’s none.

“Baby, please—” he cries, arms out to hold you but you step away, as if his touch could burn you. His heart is already shattered, why are you still breaking it? What’s left to break when you’ve taken everything away from him with just your words?

“Jungkook, think about it!”

“I am, and you’re not making sense! I know we haven’t really talked about it—“

“Exactly. Because there’s nothing to talk about. You don’t need baggage when you’re over there, you can’t be thinking about anyone else, especially one who isn’t there. You need support and more patience and understanding and… I can’t give you those. Not anymore. I’m tired. I’ve been tired. It’s gonna be even more tiring when you’re gone.” 

The lies don’t stop but you know they’re necessary, that this is how you convince him, that this is how he lets you go.

Jungkook doesn’t think there’s a worse way that you can hurt him. He’s always admired your decisiveness, but right now, he hates it, hates everything he loves about you - how strong you are, how persistent you are, how uncompromising you are. Your words are ice, as cold as the December evening. You’re unmoving and he knows you well enough that you won’t take it back. 

“Fine,” he relents. “You want to break up? Then we break up.” He wipes the tears off his face, trying to be brave, trying to salvage the remaining dignity he has left. “We end this right now, like you want.”

This is what you came here to do. This was the goal. And you’re absolutely broken. 

You turn away, knowing any more second of looking at his clenched jaw, balled up fist, and unblinking eyes will make you give in, will make you take everything back.

“Don’t reach out, okay? Don’t call. Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he states. “You wanted this.” 

You nod because he’s right. You’ll lose all rights to him after this. He’ll get over you, he’ll be okay. You’ll let him know the truth when the time is right.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Good luck out there. Your father is very proud of you.” 

You turn and head out the door, the bang not as loud as your shattering heart. And just like that, it was all over. 

You stand motionless outside his apartment, unable to make a step to make it all final. 

You hear a thump. Then a sob. 

“Please, don’t go,” he whispers, as if he knows you’re still there, and even during the final moments, he’s still begging for you to change your mind. It’s faint but you hear it and you step away this time before you walk back in and take everything back.

**

Taehyung starts the car as he sees your figure approach. You head to the back, behind the driver’s seat, a hand over your mouth to suppress your sobs. 

“You can cry now,” he says, as he steps on the gas and turns up the volume of the radio until it drowns out your sounds. You let yourself go and weep, throat aching at the force of it all, chest tightening at the overwhelming emotion of what you’d just done.

It hurts not like you expected. It hurts even more. 

You ground yourself before you lose more of you as the seconds go by and cradle the soon-to-be-there bump on your stomach. 

You need to let them know it wasn’t their fault, that they’re a blessing either way, but that it’s just hard right now. You don’t want them to feel the grief, the ache of a love that had to end, the love that created them. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you whisper and trust that this tiny little being can hear your words. “But we’re gonna be okay, alright? Mama’s gonna be okay.”

~

Next

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa

[themand0lorian]

Will You?

Summary: Several office proposals bring previously unspoken feelings to the surface.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, suggestive content)

Words: ~4000 (Read on AO3)

Tags: friends to lovers, so many proposals, food and alcohol mentions (reader is drunk at one point), reader thinks they're forever alone, math (?), really just fluff

Notes: Three people got engaged this week at work and I am taking it like a completely normal, emotionally healthy person

“I saved you the last slice.” A piece of vanilla cake with rainbow sprinkles slides into your view. You only avert your eyes from the screen of your laptop when the pillows of icing are completely blocking the text of the page—your gaze follows the multicolored sprinkles to the dull paper plate, then to the thick, lightly tanned hands supporting it in front of your screen, up a pressed dress-shirt-covered arm and finally resting on the smiling face of your coworker, Marcus Pike. “Noticed you didn’t come to Katherine’s thing in the break room.”

“It’s the third engagement party in two weeks, Marcus,” you sigh, taking the plate from him and placing it on your desk. “That means 21% of the last two weeks was spent on engagement parties. I don’t think I missed anything.”

“Don’t you want to hear how he did it?” He teases, settling his hips against your desk and crossing his arms.

“Well, Jay asked Cameron when they reached the peak of the mountain on their hike. Cory asked Laura at her mom’s 60th birthday party. So…Greg asked Katherine…via jumbotron?” You guess sarcastically. Marcus laughs so fully it brings a small smile to your face, and you fight your chuckle with a bite of the cake he brought you.

“Close. Flash mob,” he clarifies seriously, and your eyes go wide. He holds your gaze a few moments before speaking again. “Kidding.” You finally erupt into loud laughter, Marcus breaking his serious face to laugh along with you. You and Marcus were coworkers, confidants, friends—arguably, he was your best friend, and you think you’re his if the amount of time you spend together is anything to go by. He always seemed to know how to push your buttons just enough to lighten your mood. You both relish in the humor before you compose yourself and speak again.

“Alright, wise guy. How’d he do it?”

“Nuh-uh, if you wanted to know, you should’ve come to the party,” he chides.

“Marcus, I—” You stop yourself from saying too much, mood quickly turning from joy to discomfort. “I just couldn’t do another one.” Marcus seems to sense your hesitance, choosing not to push any farther.

“Still up for drinks tonight?” You nod, and Marcus smiles brightly, turning to walk back to his desk before yelling over his shoulder. “It was on the beach at sunset.” You narrow your eyes at his back.

“Of course it was.”

“How’d you propose?” You ask as you down another beer in rapid succession. You’re going a little hard for a Monday night, but the wedding bells chirping around the office were grating your nerves all day—you neglect to tell Marcus about the two shots you downed before his arrival, though you think he may have some idea based on the blunt line of questioning you’re subjecting him to immediately after arriving.

“The first or second time?” He chuckles.

“Either.”

“With Lisa, it was at our favorite restaurant on our five-year anniversary. Did the whole thing—mood lighting, soft music, favorite foods. Got down on one knee when they brought out dessert and her ring was stuck into it.”

“What if she accidentally ate it?” You cover your mouth as soon as you say it, realizing just how drunk you’ve gotten already—you had skipped lunch and left the engagement cake unfinished at your desk, no-doubt contributing to your current state, and the question slipped out.

“I honestly never thought about that,” he laughs.

“And with Teresa?” He shakes his head light-heartedly, taking another drink of his beer.

“After hours, in the middle of the office. Like three months after I started dating her.”

“And how did she take that?” you ask incredulously.

“Clearly not well,” he chuckles, and you laugh too. You’re happy you’re at a point that you can talk about them without it feeling awkward, but it still pangs your heart to know not one, but two women left Marcus heartbroken in the past. You wish you could talk some sense into them—purely for his sake, of course. Not because you’ve been in love with the man since the day you met him, and the idea that two women had everything you ever wanted and broke it makes you want to smack each of them. You’re brought out of your dangerous line of thinking when Marcus orders food when the waitress stops by, but you only order another beer, hopping to quell your lingering feelings. “How do you want to be proposed to?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, trying to play it off and likely failing in your inebriated state. “Nothing too public. The restaurant would freak me out and I would definitely eat the ring on accident,” you joke, eyeing the plate of French fries that arrives for Marcus before stealing a few. Marcus readily pushes the plate toward you, but you shake your head.

“Yeah, especially if it was in chocolate lava cake,” he retorts, and you throw a fry at him.

“Can’t say I’d want the office one either, though, Casanova. Sounds like you kind of—blurted it out.”

“Oh I absolutely did. Just standing there right by the elevators,” he confirms, tossing a fry into his mouth, and you both chuckle. Marcus continues to eat as you pick at his fries, his single drink replaced by water.

“So I don’t know, I guess as long as it had meaning to both of us, that’s all I’d care about. But let’s be real here, that’s never going to happen.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks honestly.

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, but he shakes his head. “I haven’t even been on a date in five years, Marcus. Five! And there’s no way someone—” you pause a minute, but the alcohol is making your brain mushy, and continue without filter. “Someone would never want to be stuck with me for the rest of their lives. Too much,” you slur, gesturing to yourself. He furrows his brow as you flag the waitress for another drink. She makes eye contact with Marcus who gives a small shake of his head and she returns with water. “It’s a great dream. Someone loving me so much they get down on one knee, profess their love and want to spend the rest of their lives with me, but in reality, I’ll probably have like 17 cats. And I’ll name them all after you,” you coo jokingly, but Marcus can tell there’s some fear hidden under your words. “Marcus #2, Marcus #3, Marcus #4…”

“Maybe it’s time to head home?” he asks chuckling, standing to leave some bills on the table before rounding it to your side.

“NO! I wanna stay,” you pout, before continuing. “I’m just sayin’. Too much baggage. Too hard to deal with. No—no one will ever get down on their knees for me.” He snickers, and you swat at him, chastising his dirty mind before your mouth moves faster than your brain. “Even—even you, Marcus. You’ll get married and leave me one day too,” you hiccup, mouth spouting your deepest fears. “Just me and Marcus #34…”

“Hey, look at me,” he says seriously, so you do, making fierce eye contact, though your gaze is hazy with alcohol. “You will always have me. Always.”

“Okay, Marcus #1,” you retort, but fight when he tries to pull you to your feet. You want another drink, another hour here at this table with him, another engagement cake with your names on it. You want to wax poetic about the crease between his eyebrows, about his soft voice and how your whole body tingles when he whispers a sarcastic comment into your ear during meetings. But even in your plastered state, some self-preserving part of your brain stops you; there’s no way he feels the same way, and losing him as a friend would be a fate worse than death—a fate you’ll only accept when he eventually finds the third love of his life. He sighs, resigned, when you don’t move and begin to pout, only cementing further your own idea that you’re “too much,” but you miss the way his eyes flicker mischievously when he seems to make a plan.

You watch with wide eyes as Marcus lowers himself to one knee, reaching out to gather both your hands in his. You worry you might vomit, might faint, might astral project straight out of the shitty dive bar, holding your breath as he speaks. This is everything you could have possibly wanted, like he read the secret diary of your mind without your permission, and some small part—some naïve, hopeless part—believes for a second it could be real.

“Sweetheart, will you—” it feels like time has stopped, your heart might jump out of your dropped jaw “—let me drive your drunk ass home already?” When his words settle in your mind, you exhale sharply, pulling your hands from his to give him a half-hearted slap at his bicep as he stands.

“Marcus!” You scoff.

“So is that a yes?”

He finds you the next day groaning with your head down on your desk. When he calls your name, you barely grunt a response, until out of your periphery, you see him slide down to one knee, presenting a to-go cup of coffee in his hands like a ring box. The image makes your hungover brain swirl more, and you fight to ignore him, completely mortified.

“Sweetheart, will you please—accept this coffee?”

“If I wasn’t so hungover I would kill you, Marcus,” you grunt, grabbing the coffee from his hands and resting your head back on the desk. He chuckles, standing and brushing his slacks down and walks over to his desk like nothing happened. You groan again into your desk, though now, your hangover feels like the least of your problems.

Marcus continues his mock-proposals all day; when you’re in the break room refilling your mug and he gets down on one knee to ask for sugar, you finally crack.

“Why are you doing this, Marcus?” You sigh.

“I like my coffee sweet—"

“Not the sugar. This,” you gesture broadly at his kneeling form. “Are you mocking me?” He drops his still outstretched hands, using the one grasping yours to pull himself back to standing before responding.

“No, of course not,” he reassures. “I don’t know how much you remember of last night, but you told me that, and I quote, ‘no one will ever get down on their knees for me.’” You snicker a bit at the innuendo, but he presses on. “I just want to show you that—they will. The right one, they will.” You look at him with a mixture of longing and sadness in your eyes—longing for what, he isn’t quite sure—finally passing him the sugar in pregnant silence. He puts some in his coffee and begins to walk out, but not before smirking over his shoulder. “Whether it’s to propose or for that other thing.”

“Marcus!” you throw back, watching his chuckling form retreat to his desk before taking a large swig of coffee, hoping the bitter taste replaces the painful yearning he left in his wake.

Aaron, the crime scene tech, is engaged by the next month; another vanilla cake, another small office party. You choose to attend this time.

“Did you know that 57% of our team has gotten engaged in the last month?” Marcus asks, settling next to you with his slice of cake. “There are seven of us—Jay, Katherine, Cory and Aaron make it 57%. That means there’s only three more of these to go to.” You can tell he’s trying to ease your pain, but you don’t take the bait.

“Well I don’t think Ethel is looking for love right now, Marcus,” you tease, looking at the office manager who had to be pushing 80. “And the other two are me, and you. And you’ve been engaged before, and probably had a party just like this back in Texas. So, I am now the 14% of our team left to join the Lonely-Hearts Club.”

“Did you do that in your head?” He chuckles, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m a data analyst Marcus. I literally do math all day.”

“What was the likelihood Aaron would be next?”

“Well, technically one-in-four, but since you and I are single and, as I said, Ethel isn’t exactly on the prowl, I would argue 100%.” Marcus hums contemplatively, standing to throw out his empty plate and taking yours along with it. You follow him out of the break room while the others continue to chat, but Marcus stops at your desk, rapping his knuckles on the fake wood.

“What are you doing after work?” When you shrug, he promptly gets down on one knee, and you frantically look around for any peeping coworkers, but everyone is still involved in Aaron’s party. “Sweetheart, will you—come with me after work? I need some help moving a bookcase in my apartment.” You roll your eyes as he gives a crooked smile, turning back to your desk.

“Fine. But only if you promise to keep the proposals to big things from now on. No more offers of coffee or requests for manual labor.”

“Deal.”

“Hang on, I can’t find my keys.” You scoff as you loiter around Marcus’ desk, watching him reorder his bag in search of the item.

“Are they in your desk?”

“That was one time,” he insists, and you laugh as he continues to look for them. Eventually, he opens a drawer in his desk in desperation, and perched on top of his files are the set of keys. He grabs them without comment, leading you out of the office.

“First impressions last a lifetime, Marcus, and that was the first time I met you,” you joke.

“Yes, and you immediately statistics-ed me.” Marcus calls for the elevator as you speak.

“Had to make my own first impression,” you joke, and he laughs too, leading you out of the elevator and to his car.

Marcus drives the familiar route to his apartment, but your brow furrows when he stops to parallel park next to a park a few blocks from his place—it’s a place you frequented when you first started becoming friends, going on jogs in the morning or grabbing ice cream in the summer months. When you look over to him in confusion, he’s already looking at you expectantly.

“This doesn’t look like a bookcase.”

“Sweetheart, will you let me show you something?” he asks gently, and you’re almost taken aback by the softness he displays. Marcus was always a dichotomy to you; soft yet strong, fiercely loyal yet unable to find something that lasts, but something else—something foreign, something electric—hangs in the air between you, and you can only nod.

You’ve composed yourself more once out of the car, taking a deep breath of the early autumn air as Marcus walks by your side.

“Thanks for not proposing you show me something,” you joke.

“Didn’t have room in the car,” he smirks.

“Good thing, you would have crashed,” you smile, and he gives you a look you can’t quite place. You both walk in quiet contemplation, taking in the sounds of the park—there’s a pond with an artificial fountain tinkling next to a footpath lined on both sides with shady oak trees. It’s just early enough in the season that the leaves have started to change, but a significant amount of green remains as kids run and yell on the nearby playground. At the center of the walkway is the largest tree you’ve ever seen; willowy and golden, its leaves hang heavily along the branches, practically touching the ground, and sway as the wind blows through the skinny leaves. When you approach it, you pause a moment to take in the sheer size of it, thinking of all the generations who have walked past this same tree, of all the kids who have climbed its branches and made memories of the golden willow they can think back on.

“C’mon,” Marcus urges, walking off the path, and you follow, watching as he parts a few of the wispy branches and leads you by the small of your back under the canopy. Once inside, the space seems to open up again into an ochre dome; completely protected from the outside by the rustling leaves, but you’re able to stand and move around the thick trunk under cover. The whole sight takes your breath away.

“Did you know that 15 million trees are cut down each year?” He speaks softly, breaking your reverence for the beauty of this little private oasis to notice he’s still at your side. “This tree is around 120 years old. That means the chances of surviving this long are about one in a billion.” His math is off, and you fight the urge to tell him that’s not how statistics work, but you bite your tongue, waiting for him to continue—when he doesn’t, you step in.

“Marcus, its beautiful—but is this really what you wanted to show me?” You watch as he moves impossibly closer to you before dropping to one knee; instinctively, you start to back away, but he grabs your hand to pin you in place.

“I thought I said only for big things!”

“Just—listen to me first. Before you say anything.” Marcus takes a deep breath, gathering himself. Somehow, it feels different—the air under the large willow electrified with something you can’t quite place, your hand in his igniting what little hope you have left. Marcus speaks before you can suck in another breath. “Sweetheart, I brought you here because—because I think you are one in a billion. Will you—go out on a date with me?”

“You want to go on a date? With me?” You ask confusedly, trying to pull your hand away but he keeps his grip firm.

“I’ve wanted to go on a date with you since the first time I saw you,” he responds honestly.

“Marcus, if this is just because of what I said about proposals—”

“It’s not, I promise,” he insists. “I—I’ve been in love with you for so long. After all the things that happened in Texas, I—I couldn’t put myself out there again. But—I’ve loved you since you told me the statistical likelihood of losing my keys in my desk.”

“That was your second day of work, Marcus,” you whisper, finally starting to grip his hand back. He only nods, and you use your grip to pull him up to standing, until you’re face to face. “I—You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” you exhale. “I’ve been in love with you since you lost your keys in your desk.” With that, he gives you a soft, relieved smile, removing his hands from yours to grasp your face. He crashes his lips to yours, and you respond eagerly, mouths intertwining until you’re both left breathless, foreheads pressed together.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes!” you whack his side, but he blocks it quickly, pulling you back to him for another kiss as the sun dances in patterns over you both.

“Good. My knees can’t do many more of those,” he laments sarcastically, and you roll your eyes.

“You ridiculous man,” you scoff, relishing in his love under the wisps of willow branches and the promise of something new.

It took a year for your own cake to come to fruition.

Aaron and his fiancé eloped. Cameron and Jay got married at a nice vineyard outside the city; Katherine and Greg at the beach. Cory and Laura had a backyard wedding planned for next year.

Marcus was your date to all of them.

The past year had felt like everything had changed, but somehow stayed the same—the dichotomy of Marcus Pike. You were still best friends, still coworkers who whispered under their breath at meetings, still jogged through that park that held the large willow, watching as it lost its leaves and regained them.

Marcus continued his proposal game—a request for date night, a proposal to move in together when your lease is up. His definition of ‘important’ loosened over time, but you couldn’t say you minded. Marcus had always been willing to get on his knees for you. In all senses.

So sweet, so doting, so Marcus, you decided, after one year together, it was time to turn the tables. So you made a plan; you hid a velvet box in your work bag. You asked him to come to your apartment to pick up the last of the boxes that were making his way to his place—you drove. On the way, you pull over outside that same little park; the leaves just turning auburn, the slight chill in the air—Marcus looked over at you from the passenger side.

“Thought we could make a pit stop,” You shrug, and you and Marcus leave the car—you don’t think he suspects anything, as you frequent the park whenever you need a minute to unwind. You walk leisurely along the footpath, pointing at ducks and rollerbladers, talking about anything and everything. Dusk is just starting to settle in, and you lead Marcus to the tree—your tree—pushing the branches aside for him.

The golden canopy had become something of a mainstay for you both, visiting throughout the seasons. You had trudged through snow to rest against the trunk on New Year’s Eve, had laid under the budding leaves when life became too much, had used the shade it provided from the hot summer sun to eat ice cream and talk. Still, though—the sight of your own little oasis, illuminated by the setting sun as the rustling leaves created patterns on the ground, it took your breath away. You took a moment—to steel your nerves, or just to enjoy the splendor, you won’t say—rounding the thick trunk one time before coming back to Marcus.

You stop short when you find Marcus down on one knee, a velvet box unopened in his hand. For a second, you think he found the box in your bag, but then he speaks.

“Sweetheart, I know this may seem sudden, but I promise you, I’ve been planning this for the last year.” With that, he opens the box to reveal a beautiful ring, glistening under the golden hour light. “I would get on my knees for you every hour of every day. I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You said I could only propose for important things, so—will you marry me?”

“Marcus, I—what?” Tears are gathering at his sweet words, but your confusion must be evident on your face, as he shifts uncomfortably.

“N--No pressure, sweetheart, I just—”

“No, you idiot!” You drop down to one knee as well, revealing your own velveteen box. “I brought you here to propose to you! I had this whole thing planned, about how you were always proposing to me so it was my turn!” You chuckle, tears finally falling. Marcus releases a watery laugh too, brushing your tear with his thumb.

“What are the chances that we’d both try to propose at the same time?”

“One in a billion, Marcus Pike.” With that he smiles, pulling you too him with ferocity for a deep and passionate kiss, and finally, your suspicions are confirmed—he’s the right one.

So you had your cake; scrawled across the top was “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Pike,” like a childhood diary entry come true. Your coworkers reveled in your story, asked for pictures, let you both show off your rings. As the din dies down, Ethel approaches you slowly, smiling at Marcus’ hand wrapped warmly around your waist before speaking.

“You know, Agent Pike—you got any single friends?”

TAGS: @ophelialoveshandsomemen @ksd24670 @rosiefridayrogersunday @evelynseventyr @ajeff855 @thewintersoldierswife @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @amneris21 @sarahjkl82-blog @hellovanessax @darling-din @rebel-fanfare​ @tobealostwanderer​ @randomness501​ @farfromjustordinary​ @outlawedmando​ @agirllovespancakes​ @pedrostories​ @solemnlyswearss​ @mandocrasis​ @raspberrymama​ @pjkimrn​ @fangirl-of-randomness​ @aquilacorvinal​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #will you?

[clefairymuke]

eloquent | six

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 3510

tw: swearing, past death of a character's mother, i think that's all for this one

themes: modern au, college (grad school) au, enemies to lovers, slow burn (smut is immediate but feelings aren’t), professor levi, authority kink, extremely smutty, i should be ashamed, teasing & edging, pining so hard it's embarrassing, dom levi/sub reader

tags: @number-0-iz @propertyoftoru @commanderawkward | reply to be added!!

note: this is a couple of hours late but hopefully some of the reveals in this chapter make up for it lol

LEVI

George R. R. Martin said once: “Some writers enjoy writing, I am told. Not me. I enjoy having written.”

As for Levi, he loathes it with every fiber of his being — it makes him too vulnerable. He much prefers that satisfying feeling of closing a long-opened document at the end of an impossible night, all directions his mind had split into converging into one discernible path and paving the way towards something exciting. He loves steeping a cup of tea while reading over a weeks’ worth of work written in a night. He is not a fan, however, of the blinking line currently mocking him from the computer screen.

He is particularly fond of linguistics, though, so he’ll be the first to tell you that cursor sounds so close to curse for a reason. It’s a daunting thing, watching it tick the time away while deadlines keep approaching. Only the most disciplined people can be the most successful writers — luckily, discipline is all he knows. His slender fingers glide across the keys, no particular rhyme or reason to the letters he pecks as he tries to fight through the block. Recording each little movement of his steadily chugging train of thought, Levi allows his mind to wander.

As much as he likes ignoring his personal assistant, Hange, he can’t avoid them much longer. Though he holds them still, his eyes beg to flick up to the time and date. He already knows: it’s near midnight the day before his deadline. Once he finishes his pages, he still has much left to do — he’s preparing to meet with you, after all. Tomorrow morning is September 7, the first day of the new semester, and he will finally have his hands on the work of his protegé. His fingers twitch to switch tabs, but he halts them before they disobey him. You can wait. You must, and everything must, until he emails this document to Hange and thus unlocks the shackle on his leg.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

“Fuck it,” he mutters under his breath, surrendering himself to curiosity. He clicks over to his file on you, which has been sitting open for quite a while. Scrolling through the unimportant, he settles the mouse on the link to your submission excerpt for the hundredth time. He can’t help it — it’s inspired. He devours it again with the same hungry, critical eyes he uses for his own work alone. And that’s what led him to choose you. Months before, an email arrived in his inbox from a potential student and fan. Of course, Levi does not handle his own emails — he doesn’t like writing them. The social contract of a professional email requires too many exclamation points for his personal comfort. Still, Hange read your letter and reported to his office without a second thought.

He hates people that send him their work. He’s never cared much at all for anyone but the Greats, so catching his assistant’s eye was quite the feat.

“She reminds me of you, even though it’s nothing like what you do. I can’t put my finger on it, but her stylistic choices are just full of you. Not copying, and probably not even purposeful, but as someone who’s read everything you’ve put out more than the average reader, I can tell she’s a big fan of yours.”

Levi read your excerpt, expectations as low to the ground as always, and came out pleasantly surprised. Of course, it isn’t perfect. Everyone has their origin story — even Charles Dickens had to first learn to read.

He recalls his own origin story, shooting his eyes up to the sky as he thinks about his mother. Using her initial for his pen name and dedicating every novel in her memory seems too scarce, at times. He can remember sitting idly, pen and composition book in hand, writing the night away until Mom finally returned. She was always so tired when she got home.

He shakes her out of his head, straightening, and dives back into your excerpt. There’s no time for mourning. Putting even more notes in the margins than he already has, this time he is noting the things he especially appreciates. He relishes in it — it’s so rare that he enjoys something this much. Levi is aware that he’s an asshole, as most assholes typically are; however, he doesn’t try to be that way. Every year since his birth, unfortunately, he has grown more and more convinced that he is one of the lucky few on the planet to not be born absolutely fucking braindead. And that isn’t his fault.

As he reads again and again, he can’t help but wonder which parts of it come from you. When you mention music, is that what you like to listen to? Does Laura love apples and caramel, or is that you? Are you really this terrified of love? Is your sleep always sound and full of dreams like Jasper?

These are the kind of thoughts that led him here. When Levi first read the excerpt with Hange sitting excitedly nearby, he sent them out of his office, pulled out a pen, and went to work. Later that day, he spoke with the dean and requested to be assigned as your advisor. Unbeknownst to you, Dr. Ackerman hates advising. He is no stranger to special treatment due to his fame — in fact, he rather expects it — thus, he’s never had to take a student on. He doesn’t advertise this fact. Mail doubles every fall, brimming with desperate and untalented authors begging him to mentor them, or at least send a bit of criticism off-the-books; they have no clue that his name isn’t even in the assignment pool to begin with. You’re the only one.

He ponders if he should tell you that, but decides it might be a bit too much of a boost to your confidence. You’d never write anything better if you knew that L.K. Ackerman liked it now. What’s the point? And plus, starting back at the top of page one once again, he knows that one day you could be a Great.

-

The sun is worryingly high when Levi finally punches the send button with indescribable fury, before spinning his chair 180º and launching out of it like a man on a mission. That mission, of course, is a relaxing cup of tea, a shower, and at least a half hour of peace before the exhausting day he has ahead of him.

“Hange!” he shouts, trying to reach every corner of the echochamber that is his home. “Morning tea!” He shuts his bathroom door behind him as he goes in, settling in front of the tall mirror on the wall and starting at the buttons on his shirt. A beep sounds from the shower.

“This intercom system was expensive, you know,” his assistant’s voice sounds through the ugly fucking speaker on the shower wall. “It doesn’t hurt to use it, Levi.” Levi rolls his eyes in the mirror, tossing his trousers on the floor and heading for the shower. He doesn’t feel that he’s being unreasonable; what kind of person has speakers in every room? It looks absolutely abysmal. Hange had also replaced his old showerhead with a flat rainfall faucet on the ceiling — he enjoys that one. The intercom was simply a tasteless choice.

He switches the handle to hot and steps in before pressing the button next to the speaker. “I told you I didn’t want it. When it got here, I told you to make them leave. After they installed it, I told you that you’re fired unless you get it the fuck out of here and fix my walls. You’re fired,” he tells them stubbornly before leaning back into the near-scalding water. After the first five times he fired them, Hange stopped leaving — which pissed Levi off quite a bit, at first, for whatever reason. Admittedly, he did call them within 24 hours each time demanding that they pick up his dry cleaning or favorite tea and a gift for themselves on the way to prepare his breakfast and press his suit. After a decade of nearly living together, it’s no more than a joke; he can’t imagine an offense that would cause him to genuinely dismiss Hange. Levi doesn’t even know where he gets his drycleaning done.

As he’s lathering shampoo into his hair, the beep on the intercom sounds once again. “What kind of tea are you in the mood for?” they ask, ignoring Levi’s hatred of the intercom yet again. They did the same thing with the stupid fucking pool table. (Of course, Levi learned to play pool once Hange ignored his complaints long enough; it turned out to be fun, but he’d never admit that to the public.) He reaches for the button.

“Something relaxing. I just finished my pages for the night. I’m seeing the girl from after that shitty writing contest in New York last week. What was her name?” All he could remember was how nauseous reading her work made him feel, and that she was very eager to give him her phone number afterwards without even mentioning writing whatsoever.

“Emily.”

“That’s right. I’ll be seeing her today. Then I’m meeting the brat for the first time this morning.” Levi isn’t anxious to meet you — of course not. He just isn’t used to being an advisor. At least, that’s the only explanation he has for his obsessive preparation. “Press my brown jacket. I’ll have jasmine and mint tea. Thank you.” He steps out of the shower and onto the mat, drying his skin before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m on it, Captain.”

-

Levi smooths out his hair in the reflection of his blank computer monitor as the New York girl — Emma? — pulls her cardigan over her shirt in an effort to hide the missing buttons. Oops. He sighs as he looks down at his watch — 11:17. Hange is going to be angry. And more importantly, you were going to be angry, if you’re even still waiting. Personally, he would’ve gone home by now. But he has a feeling you’re persistent. Regardless, after seeing how much of a mess the girl is in, you won’t have too high of an opinion of him anyway. He takes his jacket from its place in a chair in the corner and drapes it over his arm, going toward the door and preparing himself to be incredibly disappointed.

He opens the door, and as he expected, Levi doesn’t see you. God damn it. Vision tunneling on the wretched woman the university had unfortunately stationed in his building, Levi trudges across the empty waiting room. “Tell me I’m done for the day, Cheryl.” If he’s lucky, you left your cell phone number with the witch. He’d hate for Hange to be the one to communicate with you after this stunt; still, he doesn’t know his email password.

“Sorry, boss,” she starts, her voice thick with a Boston accent. “That little bird over there is waiting on you.” She sighs and rolls her eyes before pointing to the wall directly adjacent to the door. He’d just missed you. Now it looks even worse. Perfect.

His mind pauses for a second when he looks at you, and he cocks his head to one side in thought; he knows you. “Oh?” Levi starts towards you, and it clicks. The two of you have met a few times before, between signings and keynote speaker gigs forced on him by his publicist. You’ve talked to him about your passion on a few occasions. He decides to keep the realization to himself. He doesn’t want you to come into this reserved. “What do you need?”

“I had an advising appointment scheduled with you for 10:30 A.M., Dr. Ackerman. Sorry if it’s any inconvenience,” you answer, clearly irritated. He doesn’t appreciate passive aggression in the slightest, but he supposes you could be interesting if you’re a challenge. Unfortunately, Levi has never reacted well to bad attitudes. His temper is rather uncontrollable.

“Am I supposed to already know your name or something?”

-

“I don’t care to read all of this shit when I have the author in front of me. I prefer organic responses anyway,” Levi jokes, marveling at the work put into organizing it all. It would take him hours to get through this. He couldn’t wait. “Is this the piece you sent in an excerpt of? I remember your application.” Despite how he feels about your work, he’s trying not to seem too interested. That’s how he learned. Praise breeds stagnation.

He watches as you start to fidget, biting down hard on your lip and scratching at your thumb with the nail of your pointer finger. He doesn’t get it; he was never so insecure about his work, even before he was published. No one needed to tell Levi he wrote well. He’s always known. “Uh, no, sir, I unfortunately abandoned that project a while ago. But this one is much more —”

Wait, what is she saying? he thinks, reeling. Abandoned? She was admitted based on that project. Is she stupid? After a second of deliberating with himself like this, he decides that you must simply be naive. Or very, very brave — either way, it’s unusually entertaining. He laughs. “I’m sorry,” he begins, not sure what kind of tone to take. On one hand, it’s not like you’ve done this before, and based on the way you’re tapping your fingers, you’re already mortified; on the other, you should know that you can’t do things like that in the future. Hange tells him that he needs to work on not looking so furious all the time, but he doesn’t mind it. The people he tolerates are willing to tolerate him back, anyway. “I guess we’ll have to reschedule. Pull that project back out and bring me some good pages. I chose you for that piece. I’ll be the one to let you know if you should abandon it,” he says. Levi wants to tell you how disappointed he is not to be able to discuss it with you, but you don’t look very happy with him right now. It’s unfortunate — you’re a very beautiful girl without the scowl. If you intend to act like a brat every single time you don’t get your way, Levi fears that this is going to be a very unfortunate relationship. Cluing you in that he chose you should’ve been enough to perk you up. He narrows his eyes and goes to the door before it can escalate further. At this point, you’ve pissed him off a bit. He watches as you get up stiffly and leave without so much as a professional, “Thanks for your time.” Who raised you? he thinks, annoyed.

Still, Levi can’t be terrible to you; he wants to mentor you. You have to at least think he’s decent. “It was nice to meet you,” he says as you pass him by, and it’s the truth. A temper would be a challenge, but the longer he watches you walk away, the more he thinks about his own. Hange has gotten used to it, and Erwin. Maybe he can do the same for you — maybe. If you make concessions as well. He remembers that he doesn’t have your cell phone number. “Come back at the same time on Thursday with something I want to read,” he calls after you.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak out, weeping more than prevalent in the sound of your voice, and Levi freezes in his tracks.

He fears he may have vastly misread that entire situation.

-

When he sees you next, you’re late, and you look terrible. You’re clearly coming off of a very long night, and judging by the state of your hair, it was not one spent studying. And the circles under your eyes are making it clear that you didn’t spend it sleeping, either. Do you really disregard him this much? For fuck’s sake, he makes Hange press a suit for him before your meetings. It’s disrespectful.

“Don’t drink the night before your meetings with me. And comb your hair next time,” he says, trying to reprimand you without escalating the situation. He opens the folder and pulls out the freshly printed paper inside, ready to devour it like he had with the first handful of pomegranate seeds. He’s come to “adore” it, per Hange’s phone call with Levi’s publicist. He snorted at that one. Anyone interested in a tabloid-style article about an author enjoying the work of another author is no better than someone who is illiterate, in his opinion. In fact, they’re much worse. The illiterate ones aren’t at fault.

He sees your mouth drop open as if you’re surprised. “I overslept, sir. I stayed up working on the piece from my application,” you say, and Levi quickly notices that you aren’t a very good liar at all. He laughs. That’s extremely convenient for him; it will likely be rather tortuous for you, though. Hopefully after a while you’ll drop the attitude and he can be constructive.

“We’ll see,” Levi says, genuinely hopeful as he reads through the pages. They’re well-written, of course. The style is unique and pleasing and consistent. However, to his extreme disappointment, it’s something very different from the tale he’s been reading for weeks on end. All of the personality is gone. The best themes have been diminished to practically nothing. The dialogue is weak. He frowns, realizing that the piece is practically unrecognizable. You bullshitted this. What would his advisor have done in this situation?

Oh, I know. Without missing a beat, Levi puts it in the shredder. It says it all, no questions asked, and hurts people’s feelings a little. One size fits all. He refuses to tolerate a lack of effort. If you aren’t connected emotionally, you’ll never write anything worth more than the $5 bin at Wal-Mart; and that’s being generous. Maybe a local newspaper.

To his surprise and slight amusement, you don’t appreciate this at all. That’s understandable. Levi wanted to throw the desk the first time his advisor did it to him. Still, he doesn’t tolerate disrespect. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He wasn’t expecting you to raise your voice. You’ve been so timid before. Admittedly, he wasn’t trying to intimidate you then. Hange told him at breakfast that morning that he’s “abrasive.” He thinks Hange’s an imbecile. “That’s my best work! I put my heart into that!” you shout, and Levi furrows his brow. If you really believe that, you’re delusional. And you need a serious wake up call.

All he can do is laugh. Why are you trying so hard to fail? He knows what good work of yours looks like. This isn’t even close. Still, he wonders if you’re really being honest. “If that’s the best you’ve done, it’s concerning, but I can work with it. If that’s the best you can do, I would just start over in undergrad. This isn’t the project from before. Their chemistry and tension as enemies has no substance. You killed the betrayal theme, and the sex scene physically lowered my libido. So, is that the best you can do, or not?” he asks, looking into your eyes. He’s started to really enjoy looking at them as of late — you are very pretty, after all. He wants to set his hand on top of yours or something friendly of the sort. Those types of gestures help people understand tough love; plus, you look more sad than angry all the sudden.

“I can do better,” you stammer out, and Levi almost smiles. Still, he stays stern. He can’t kill your motivation. This one might just work.

“Good. Write it again — but well. 6:15 A.M. on Tuesday. If you’re late again, I will email the department chair. You’re dismissed.” He gets up from his place at the desk and promptly goes to the door, showing you your way out. A bit dramatic, but that makes it more fun.

“6:15?” you say, suddenly whining like a child. Levi looks at his fingernails. He isn’t entertaining tantrums. “Are you going to actually give me any real critiques?”

“I will critique you when you bring me something worth critiquing. Get out, and drive safely,” he says flatly. For the sake of his health, Levi prays this attitude has dissipated by next week. He would need Cheryl to bring him some chamomile tea in a moment.

He watches as you storm through the door as if you’d had the last word, trying to regulate your breathing and rush out to report his crimes to your closest girlfriends. His eyes go wide when he hears a dry laugh come out of your mouth. He fights back a rarely-appearing smile. For a second, he looks you up and down unabashedly, before spinning his chair around and shaking the idea out of his head.

You’re very intriguing. He needs more.

last chapter | next chapter

note: i bet you didn't think levi would be the one doing the embarrassing pining now did you

#aot fic #levi aot #aot au #attack on titan fic #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #aot smut #aot #snk #enemies to lovers #levi x reader #slowburn #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #enemies with benefits #slow burn #professor levi x reader #professor levi ackerman #professor!levi #pining #dom levi #levi ackerman #levi fic #levi ackerman x you #eventual romance #eventual relationship #eventual happy ending #dark academia

[inksandpensblog]

Hello inks^-^

erm... dunno how to say it correctly but...

(AvA related) a few months ago, you posted an character analyse that you and your friend made for RGBY.

I wanted to thank you for this, that helped me a lot when I started to make my comics (even tho i put my own twist on the sticks' interpretation/personality so that doesnt follow 100% your analyse oops -u-') and i still use your analyse even now.

ANYWAY, i am very grateful for you sharing your ideas ^-^ Thank you.

but i was curious to know if you also had an analyse for Orange/The Second Coming character. I am curious ouo''

I am wishing you a very good day -u-'

(i love your fanfics by the way, i cant read them all in one go unfortunately, but I love how your interpretation is completely different to mine. Thats so interesting! I love it >w<)

-tulipsempai

Hi Tulip! I’m happy to share, and thank you for waiting so patiently!

One thing I always think of when it comes to Orange is actually something that’s more prevalent in his earlier videos than in his more recent ones: he seems to not…know the pc landscape as intuitively as Chosen One and Dark Lord did (Victim never left the animation program so I can’t really use him to contrast. Though interestingly, Victim and Orange do seem to share an intuitive understanding of the animation program). When Orange breaks RYGB out to play around, he acts like everything is as new for him as it is for them, even though he has a few more seconds (heh) of experience over them. In the early Minecraft videos (The Building Contest), he has to steal the letters from words that are already on the page to get the search result he wants, but by the current arc (Lush Caves) he’s apparently learned how to type it somehow, like Dark Lord does in Showdown.

Keeping that first point in mind, I’ve also noticed that in AvA4, Orange fought Alan in a way that none of the three sticks before him had, and I don’t just mean the “talking.” He’s the only stick whose actions would have consequences for Alan that concerned more than just the integrity of his computer. Impersonating Alan on Facebook and trying to call 911 from Alan’s phone are things that have consequences in the world completely beyond the pc, so I find it interesting that Orange even knew to try things like that when he wasn’t even ten minutes into sentience.

On multiple occasions (AvA4, AvLoL, AvPokemon, AvArcade) Orange is shown forgiving his opponents rather quickly. Once differences have been resolved, he doesn’t seem to hold grudges, and is even willing to initiate, and usually pursue, a friendship in the same instant. His anger doesn’t last long. At the same time, said anger tends to grow pretty rapidly once it starts. Orange goes from 0 to 100 real quick once he’s been upset (AvA4, PvP, AvPokemon, Note Block Battle, Lush Caves, The Ultimate Weapon). My friend Kitty had this to say about Orange’s unique flavor of anger:

@k1ttyadventurer: It feels like Red's anger is more erratic and impulsive (while keeping in mind that fighting is not always his go-to response when angry).

(Actually, it's not Orange's go-to response either. Funnily enough, it may very well be Green's go-to response, though. Green is less impulsive, but it feels like that would be his answer most of the time when angry.)

(Okay, tangent over-)

Meanwhile, if Orange is angry enough to take action, it's very focused. He singles out his target(s) with complete tunnel vision, it feels.

Oh, note that this only happens when he's alone against an enemy.

This is likely the reason why (as I've noticed) Orange performs better in combat when alone.

And even when it’s not real anger, he can still be a little petty when he isn’t getting his way (PvP, Redstone Academy, Texture Pack, Note Block Battle, Parkour), as long as he’s unaware of any danger that would make him feel too wary to be petty. On that note, my friend Jules had this to say:

@skala: It seems to me that he takes on a protective role when he's with the color gang in a new environment, but when he's on his own, or with the others on Alan's pc, the more mischievous aspects of his personality shine through.

I’ve also noticed that Orange is the most habitually domestic of the stickfigures. Many of his free-time activities are some form of simple relaxation (AvYT before the buffering started, Skyblock, The Piglin War, Lush Caves, Animation vs Trash), and he has by far the most basic-looking room in the Minecraft house (yeah Red’s room is tiny and sparsely decorated but he also built a decent-sized rooftop garden for his pets; Orange just has a single orange tulip, one in-game painting, and a fireplace we’ve never seen lit).

Lastly, my friend Kitty handed me an interesting observation on how Orange fights:

@k1ttyadventurer: When he fights the witch alone, he does really well, no mistakes.

When he fights the witch alongside the others, obviously they don't beat her, but more importantly for us, he trips up a few times, even with the others making up for his trip ups.

(Also, just look at him fighting the evil bunny. For some reason, I can't imagine him going that wild and relentless around his friends, and I'm not sure why exactly.)

That’s all I have on Orange for now! Good day (or night, whichever it is for you when you read this) to you!

(I’m so glad you like my fics ^_^ I honestly find the differences between our interpretations super intriguing. Especially with Victim)

#animator vs animation #avm shorts #ava shorts #analysis #ava enthusiasts #my thoughts #edit: forgot to mention The Warden on the list of episodes where Orange displayes pettiness #he didn’t HAVE to break that sculk sensor BUT

[genshingarbage]

Could I request any boys of your choice where they’ve had an exhausting day and their s/o says they should take a nap on their lap? Thank you!

Cute boi hours again? Yes <3 Sleepy time awe! I am gonna pick a very select few that i think this works well with, so i hope you're okay with the hand picked few ;) - Mod Diluc

Rest My Love.

|| Head Cannons ||

Kazuha/Diluc/Xiao/Kaeya

Kazuha

He was beat, exhausted and aching, every muscle in his body ached like something fierce. But, who ever said the life of a lone wandering samurai was gonna be a breeze? Yea, that's right- no one. Because it sure as hell wasn't. He was use to feeling this way yet somehow it still made him just as grouchy as the first time.

He walked into the small building that was titled as your homestead and yawned; stretching his arms out he heard a few odd bones pop from the pressure, it relieved some of his tension but not nearly enough for it to be actually satisfying. With a huff he removed some of his more heavy going clothing, including his shoes, till he was more loose and relaxed.

He shuffled slowly into the house, trying not to wake you. You were his lover and so him coming to your home was somewhat normal now, but he often was away for large periods of time, and he never liked to disturb you. Specially when you're busy. Which you were, you had your nose deep between the pages of a gripping story written so entrancing like from a book. So much for his first theory that you'd be asleep at this time, huh?

He tried to creep past you as you read, but you wasn't born yesterday. So with a roll of your eyes and a soft exhale from your nose you spoke out. "Kazuha. Welcome home hun." You didn't even bother to turn your head around to him, you knew fully well he was frozen in his steps now, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. He blinked a few times before sorting himself back to his normal standing position and chuckling awkwardly, a breif rub to the back of his neck ensued.

"Ah, yea, I'm uh- yea. I'm home, thanks Y/N. I really didn't wanna disturb you there." He spoke softly and with great regret; like he'd just committed an awful crime. You simply closed the book after having bent the tip of the page you were on, as to know where to start off when you return to it, and placed the item down on the small table infront of your sofa. "Kazuha, it's fine... I was only reading a book." You chuckled gently.

"I know, but... it felt wrong to interupt you so abruptly specially when you seemed so into it-" you'd twisted your torso ever so slightly so your eyes could lay on his now, your heart almost broke, he looked absolutely shattered- like all life was drained from him. Just what had this crazy man gotten up to in his absence? "Kazuha- oh my goodness. Look at you! You're about to pass out."

He smiled politely and waved his hand side to side as if dusting your worry back into the wind. "Nah, I'm a lil tired that's all. I'm gonna have a lie down, I'll be right as rain after." He went to go back to making his way to the exit of your living room, that is until you called out ever so gently. "Or well, I wouldn't mind if you rested your head on my lap." A faint blush flushed your cheeks. He turned to face you yet again. Blinking several times over again.

"Really?" He tilted his head almost like a curious puppy, he has no idea how cute he is sometimes. "I mean, sure why not? You've not been home for over a month. I do get lonely ya know, the company would feel nice, and your presence is always warm and welcoming." You smiled sweetly at him and he returned the expression with full earnest. Nodding softly he made his way to the sofa, where you rested, and now reshuffled and organised yourself to get into a more comfy position.

It wasn't long before he was laying on his side with his head nestled into your lap, breathing softly as your hand gently rested adorn his head of hair. "Mmh. You're right, this beats sleeping alone any day." He hummed sleepily to you, by the way his voice was giving out you could tell he was close to succumbing to his slumber already. With a gentle smile still planted across your lips you hushed him softly.

"Shh, rest now. My Kazuha." You began to hum a quaint little lullaby that had him snoring in under three minutes. This man, he works himself so hard, but still, it's one of the reasons you love him so much, the fact he's hard working and never gives in. And you have the comfort in your mind of knowing whenever he gets this tired again, he'll have you here to be by his peaceful sleeping side everytime. Now and forever.

Diluc

The sky was a beautiful orange and red tone, the colours mixed so beautifully, with the white fluffy clouds scattered around too, it looked like a stunning evening. You were sat alone at the dinner table again, your chin resting on your opened palm, your eyelids half shut to block the rays of the last bit of presence from the sun.

The candles had long since burned out and the beautiful sweet honeyed roast you'd prepare with such delicacy and tender care was going cold. Diluc was suppose to be home over thirty-five minutes ago, he promised he'd make it in time for whatever dinner the maids threw together tonight, he wasn't aware you'd taken it upon yourself to lovingly prepare tonight's meal for him.

You couldn't be mad at the man; or hold a grudge for that matter, you knew what type of person he was, you knew he wasn't one for sticking to plans and promises, he simply couldn't be with the work he has, not to mention his little sun down hobby that you became privy too after several years with the crimson haired gentleman. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was the fact you knew without doubt he truly did love you. And in a way that was enough for you.

It was sundown now and your dinner had long been since tidied up by the maids, with a somewhat solemn look to your face you'd decided to go to bed early that night. Knowing Diluc, he wouldn't be home for hours to come anyway. Your eyes were just starting ache and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy for you now. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth softly you let your body sink further into the warm embracing sheets.

Click.

Your eyes slowly opened back up when you heard the all too familiar noise of your bedroom door opening, narrowing your eyes slightly to help adjust to the dim glow of the room, the small aid of illumination being provided solely by your nightstand candle. It wasn't hard to make out who it was however, since his deep red hair practically danced from the slight glow of the flicking flame.

"Diluc." It came out more like a whisper which you never intended for it too, but you were so gripped by tiredness now it was hard to sound more awake at the given circumstances. "Sorry for waking you my dear, wasn't my intention." You hummed softly in response and then watched as best as you could as he removed his attire and shoes, stripping down to just his boxers.

Gripping the band that kept his hair up was the last part, with a tug his hair flew down and waved apart, you kept a watchful eye on him. As it was when his hair was down that he was always at his most tired and vulnerable mental state now. "The maids told me Y/N." He still sounded strict, or at least he was trying his best too. But his voice wavered in every sense of the word.

The bed dipped beside you as his weight was added to the mattress now, a small groan escaping his lips. You knew what he meant, it wasn't a surprise the maids told him you'd prepared the dinner today, you'd just wish they'd not sometimes, to avoid adding more stress to the man's poor ordeals. "It's fine, it was just a small attempt. I'm not exactly the best cook to begin wit-"

The poorly sounding wince from him cut you off, the failed attempt to stifle it and keep it under wraps didn't go unnoticed. You narrowed your eyes at the man beside you in bed now, and then you saw. He was littered with cuts and bruises, they surely must hurt, why didn't he say anything? Scratch that. He never tells you anyway, thinking its better that way. Silly man.

With a gentle huff you shook your head, shuffling your weight and sitting up ever so slightly, your back pressing against the several puffed pillows under you. "Enough of that. Come here darling." It was your turn to sound strict however, and for once he didn't fight back. Your heart tugged at you slightly as you felt the weight shifting around beside you and then were suddenly graced with the feeling of his head nuzzling into your lap.

You took it upon yourself to softly begin to caress his head, letting your hand stroke and massage the man's hair and scalp. The groans and sighs that left him were evidence enough he was in a blissful state right now, your sweet Diluc. Always putting his life on the line to protect those less fortunate than him, when will he learn? That his life matters just as much. Sigh.

You heard a soft mutter from him, something along the lines of 'sorry' and 'dinner'. But he was already taken by the nights calming embrace to be formulating anything coherent now, so you closed your eyes with another soft shake of your head and continued to massage his head. Till both you and your hand laid still, silent, asleep. Whatever he'd done tonight, whatever reason he'd missed dinner, it didn't matter. As long as he loved you it was enough. It always has been, it always will be.

Xiao

The stars twinkled softly an slowly, looking so entrancing from down below, the dark blue sky washing above you with the dazzling twinkles looking like small fire flies dancing around. You stood there, your knee bent slightly as your weight was supported by the banister of the top balcony to Wangshu Inn. Any minute now, you thought to yourself calmly.

And is if on que a sudden and harsh breeze blew past you, followed up with a loud thud. You turned your head ever so slightly, seeing the young looking yaksha lifting back up from his crouch landing position. "Welcome home honey." you said somewhat stone like, to which you got a simple sounding 'Tsk' as response, as he chucked his spear lazily behind him, to which it dissolved away instantly.

You rolled your eyes to the quiet scoff that greeted you back, shaking your head slowly, your eyes went back to focus on the landscape below you from the viewpoint of the balcony. It was so peaceful and beautiful. "How has your day been?" You decided to question him further, all while remaining your focus elsewhere.

"Fine." he responded in short. This type of reply was normal to you now, he wasn't the talkative type, despite having been the first to say to you he loved you. "Well, that's good then." you said back in your normal sweet tone now. You could tell from that tone in his voice he was exhausted, he didn't have to say or do anything, you could just tell.

Thinking it was best to leave now and give him his privacy you turned away from the balcony and began to walk to the exit. "I will let you rest my love, see you soo-"

"Wait."

His voice was louder than its ever been round you, the faint flush on his cheeks was evidence enough he never intended for it to come out so loudly from his own mouth. "Xiao?" you turned back round, seeing him stood there looking like a somewhat lost lamb, it was damn cute.

"S...stay with me, ... please."

His voice, so soft, so sweet, so gentle. You felt your heart crack slightly, your poor adeptus, he must've been rushed off his feet tonight. The dark bags forming under his eyes said all you needed to hear.

Chewing your bottom lip softly you breathed in and then walked over to him slowly. "Xiao..." you whispered his name lovingly, his eyes met with yours and for a brief moment the air left your lungs, the sight of his exhausted face so close to you, actively seeking comfort within you, it was enough to melt the coldest of icebergs.

Letting your hand slip into his with a gentle squeeze, a small smile on your lips you led him down the stairs of the Inn, into your bedroom, a tidy and quaint little sleeping quarter. He needed to rest, he is pushing himself too much, and if you do not take action, he never will.

Climbing onto the bed once you'd abandoned your shoes on the carpet you looked up at him, laying in a relaxing position. The red on his cheeks only flushed deeper and darker, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. Such a lewd mind, oh my, you never expected him to get the wrong idea over a situation like this.

"Xiao- no... not that." you chuckled at his confused expression, he was so alien to the concept of just touch in general now, that to him he sees it so black and white, being close means being intimate, otherwise why get close? So it was up to you to show him the ways of being human again.

You let your hand softly pet and stroke your lap and he raised his brow, but seeing the sudden light in his eyes spark showed you he caught on to what you really were aiming for. So he hesitantly dipped onto the bed next to you, he was tense and his movements were awkward, but he eventually shuffled his head and body to lay down with his head nestled softly into your lap.

"Is this... okay?" he muttered it nervously, like he was scared the slightest movement would shatter everything around him. You looked down at him and gently kissed your fingers, pressing them against his lips in response. "Shh, rest my love, you need it." Just to further add to what you were saying you let your hand gently rub the outer ridge of his ear.

The blush eventually left his cheeks, the tensed muscles finally went lax and his breathing grew heavier and more unguarded, with a pleased hum from your lips you closed your eyes too and began to succumb to the sweet calling of slumber too.

As long as he has you, you will always be there to help[ him, he may be an adeptus, a yaksha, but you? He is just as human as you or anyone else. Wrath filled or not. He is and always will be your sweet little adeptus. Your perfect lover. Your Xiao.

Kaeya

Another late night and you sat cuddled up on the sofa scanning through several paintings, more specifically paintings that you had done over the course of several months. It was a hobby of yours, but with the aid of Albedo giving you tips and throwing you pointers here and there you'd become surprisingly good at it; who would've guessed you'd secretly be an artist in hiding? Not you that's for sure.

It was fun enough to help tide over the unsettling impatience that always started to bubble under your skin at least, specially on nights like this, where Kaeya, your boyfriend, who also happened to be the Calvary Captain for the Knights of Favonius was out at an ungodly late time, dealing with a suspicion of criminal activities, within the borders of Mondstadt.

He never broke his promises to you thus far, of which were he will always return safely home to you, but it never did fully destroy the raging thunder of worry that often seized your mind on a daily, who could blame you? The man was always in such dangerous predicaments. Who knew if this morning, or any morning for that matter, where you kissed him goodbye, would be the last time you ever would see his face when you waved him off?

It isn't his fault you know this, but you do wish that sometimes he would be cut slack, just a little, so you could for once not have to distract yourself with idle glances of your paintings while waiting for his return. If only every now and then Jean, The Acting Grand Master would just let him have a day off-

Click.

You jumped slightly upon hearing the noise of your front door not open, but actually close. Turning your head you saw Kaeya stood there, arms covering his chest in a crossed way, a raised brow prominent as he glared down at you. "How long have you been worrying?" His voice sounded so flat and monotone, almost a hint of exhaustion. Was he growing tired of your over worried nature?

"I... uh. uhm..." You were at a loss for words, how long had you been worrying exactly? Two, three hours now? You were unsure of the answer yourself. He shook his head and sighed out slowly, it was long and drawn out; he must be so tired from his work today, seeing you up at this hour acting like a child probably doesn't help his situation in the least.

You looked down sadly, feeling ashamed and guilty of yourself because you do this oh so often to him, he always prays your in bed, safely tucked up and lost in your own dreams before he gets home, but you never are, you're always awake and worried, your face far from the peaceful look he often daydreams you having.

"It doesn't matter anymore my little petal." He hums softly as he walks around the sofa to get within arms reach, crouching onto his own weight to scoop you up, your mind in shock you let the paintings slip from your grip and pool around the seat you were just in and the floor underneath you. "Whe- Kaeya?"

"Shh, it is time to head to the bedroom." He spoke so matter factually, which left you eyes wide and beet red, to which he glanced down and a smug chuckle slipped from him. "For sleep Y/N." You relaxed instantly, a sigh escaping you. "Unless of course, you want the other thing?" You squirmed, embarrassed beyond belief, he loved to teased you. "Quit it Kaeya!" You pouted at him, to which he just chuckled at lightly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

Once in the bedroom he drops you so you fall and sink into the softness of your mattress and covers, to which he joins you quickly after. Now both in bed he simply huffs as he turns and crawls around before you feel his head find its preferred resting place; your lap. You smile and gently chuckle. "May i?" He asks just a tad bit too late for permission.

"You're already laying there Kaeya, bit late for the formalities now." You roll your eyes and turn to blow the candle out, leaving you both in darkness and silence, just your soft and gentle breathing in unison as you stroke and massage his head, to which he groans gently in delight too. He is so sweet when he sleeps on your lap like this, you feel closer to him now than you ever normally do, unless you involve the factor of intimacy sexually.

Its calming and sweet, and it helps you remember that he will always keep his promise to you,

He will always come home safely.

#genshin blog #genshinimpact #genshin #genshin fanfic blog #kaeya #xiao #kazuha #diluc #kaeya oneshot #xiao oneshot #kazuha oneshot #diluc oneshot #kaeya fanfic #xiao fanfic #kazuha fanfic #diluc fanfic #genshin kaeya #genshin xiao #genshin kazuha #genshin diluc

[julemmaes]

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj

#rowaelin month #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin month day two #tog #throne of glass #rowaelin fic

[nerdyfangirl67]

Are You Going to Kiss Me or Not - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader

Word count: 1660

Warnings: mild language, slightly steamy kiss scene

Reader is done waiting around for one Aaron Hotchner to decide whether or not he is interested.

A/N: This came to me one day on my way to work, after listening to the Thompson Square song “Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not”. Since this fic is inspired by the song, it will be related, in some ways, to the song’s lyrics. I admit, it did get away from me and I’m not entirely sure how much I like the middle part. I hope y’all enjoy it regardless! Next up is a POTO work, so stay tuned for that :)

The words start to blur across the page as you try to read the document, again, for the third time. And just like before, a couple of sentences in your attention wanders from the page to the large window of Aaron’s office. Your eyes immediately find him where he is hunched over his desk, his hand moving furiously as he burns through the stack of paperwork taking up his desktop. You were glad you were the last one in the bullpen and no one was there to witness your hopelessly longing stares you had been sending Aaron’s way. 

“Screw it.” You murmur, pushing away from your desk before striding towards Aaron’s office. You knock hard twice and wait for him to call you in. Once he does, you push open the wooden door and take a few steps into the office. You watch as Aaron finishes scrawling out something on the paper in front of him before he lifts his head. 

“Y/L/N?” He asks in surprise. “What are you still doing here?”

You shrug your shoulders, not really sure yourself why you had stayed hours after leaving time to ‘work’ on paperwork. Deep down though, you knew it was because you hadn’t wanted to leave Aaron to another long night of paperwork. “I could ask you the same thing.” You quip back, causing an almost unnoticeable lift in one of his eyebrows as he gives you a look.

The room is quiet for a moment, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes. You’re saying more with your eyes than you had ever said out loud to him, showing him how you truly felt. His brown eyes were filled with something akin to longing and you had to fight the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him. You break eye contact as you make your way to one of the chairs in his office. 

“I was thinking of calling it a night and thought maybe you might want to do the same.” You pause before quickly adding, “Or maybe you’d want to get a drink together.” You hope that despite the hour, he would feel as desperate to spend time with you as you were to spend time with him. 

“I don’t think that is such a good idea.” He answers, his eyes only meeting yours briefly before he looks out the window overlooking the bullpen. 

“Some other time then.” You say, feeling a rush of disappointment as he turned down your offer. 

His eyes meet yours now as he says, “I don’t think that any time would be good.” 

“Oh, well whenever you want to get a drink with a friend, just let me know.” You say, somewhat dejectedly, not sure why he was being so standoff-ish. “You’re a good friend.” You add quietly.

“I think you and I both know that that isn’t what this is.” He responds. “And I think that you and I also know that whatever this is, it can’t happen.” You open your mouth to argue otherwise, despite the fact that what he was saying was true, but he cuts you off.

“Good night Agent Y/L/N.” His voice has a biting edge to it as he returns to his paperwork, effectively ending the conversation. His apparent rejection has your heart seizing in your chest and your throat tightening against the rising sob in your chest. You turn and run out of his office, only stopping in the bullpen to grab your jacket and purse, not wanting Aaron to see you cry, especially when it was over him.

The drive home passes in a blur as you try to keep the falling tears from blocking your vision. You somehow make it back to your apartment without getting into an accident. You tiredly unlock your apartment, dropping your purse and jacket by the door before locking it back up. You don’t even have it in you to get ready for bed, instead opting to just take off your shoes and crawl into bed. You don’t get much sleep that night, the stress and anxiety of possibly having ruined your relationship with Aaron weighing down on you. When your alarm goes off the next morning, you know that there is no way you were going to be able to make it through work, let alone face Aaron after what happened last night. You send Penelope a quick text saying you weren’t feeling well and would be staying home. 

Later that evening, after a day of feeling sorry for yourself, you are lying on the couch, listening to some random podcast that has been playing on the radio, when a knock sounds on your apartment door. You let out a heavy sigh as you get up, not really excited by the idea that someone was at your door at this time of night. You open the door, ready to tell off whoever it was, but all words leave your mouth when you see that one Aaron Hotchner was standing in your doorway.

His eyes meet yours briefly before they scan over your body, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He wordlessly steps past you to the inside of your apartment, his hand catching yours as he passes you, a finger straying to caress your wrist. You slowly close the door, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall and the emotions that were rising to the surface before turning your attention to him. You watch him, watching you, for a long time, taking in the smallest details of his appearance; his dark hair, slightly disheveled, his white dress shirt without his characteristic tie and the top few buttons undone, and a tired expression on his face. 

You couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Aaron Hotchner, are you going to kiss me or not?” You burst out, hands on your hips as you focus your gaze on him. He didn’t say anything as he continues to stare at you, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. His silence infuriates you further and causes you to throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Damnit Aaron.” It wasn’t often that you used solely his first name, only doing so when a situation caused you to be enraged or terrified, and you felt a little of both at the moment. You were so upset at his apparent disinterest in what you were saying, what you were asking of him. And you were terrified that it meant he didn’t feel the same for you. 

“I like you a lot. In fact ... I might actually be in love with you.” It came spilling out, everything that you had been keeping to yourself for months and you couldn’t stop yourself once you’d started. “I’ve felt this way for a while, a long while. And I think you know, or at least a part of you does.” You pause, wondering if maybe you had been reading too much into the longing looks and the lingering ‘accidental’ touches, but you decide since you had gone this far, you wouldn’t back out now. 

“Aaron, I’m not going to wait around forever for you to decide.” You soften your voice, pausing for a long moment to let what you said sink in, before you ask him again. “So, are you going to kiss me or not?” He is moving before you even finish talking, reaching you in only a matter of steps. His large, rough hands come to rest on either side of your face, cupping your face in a gentle manner that contrasted heavily to the urgency in his movements. He brings your face up to his, bending until he is able to reach your lips. 

The kiss is soft, almost tentative, as if Aaron isn’t quite sure of what he was doing himself, as if he was going to pull away at any moment. You kiss him back fervently, worried that he was going to back away. You find yourself getting lost in the feeling of his hands on your face and his body brushing up against yours, the euphoria you feel over finally getting to kiss him flooding through your body. 

You are the one to finally pull back, your need for air overcoming your want to kiss him. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the two of you catch your breath. “That was...” You murmur, a languid smile growing on your face. You catch a glimpse of the mischievous spark in his eyes as he mumbles out an incoherent reply, right before he seizes your lips with his. 

Where the first kiss had been safe and reserved, this one was passionate and frenzied. In the heat of the moment, Aaron backs you up against the wall of the living room in your apartment and his hands are everywhere; on your face, your hips, in your hair, sliding down your back. He breaks off the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve waited years to do that.” He whispers, his voice rough with need. “And it was better than I ever could have imagined.” His soft brown eyes, twinkling with emotion, meet yours. 

“You better get used to it, Hotchner.” You say, a surge of confidence washing over you. “Because I’m definitely going to do that again.” You press a light kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug. His strong arms bring you infinitesimally closer, one of his hands coming to tuck your head in against his chest. “Good.” He murmurs his warm breath fanning across your neck. “I look forward to it.”

His words cause a smile to grow on your face as you relish in, finally, being able to feel his arms around you. You were certainly glad you finally decided to ask Aaron Hotchner if he was going to kiss you because it clearly paid off.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds hotch #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #aaron x reader #aaron hotcher x reader #Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner reader insert #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

[nuttynutcycle]

I just discovered your blog, and I'm in LOVE with your writing! I'm completely obsessed with Familiar, so if it's not to much to ask, could you write a continuation? Thank you so much, your snippets and prompts are greatly appreciated!!

Familiar - Pt 2

First part here

On a scale of one to ten, this was either a -2 or a 12 on the good idea scale. Hero double-checked the address Villain had sent her before looking back at the tiny house. The paint was peeling, steps were rotting and that roof was definitely of the leaking sort. Somehow, she had expected Villain to live on the rich side of town.

When he had invited her over to work on their assignment, her thoughts had been torn between screaming trap and find some evidence. The second side won. If there wasn’t anything in there to prove who Villain really was… Well, she’d have to find another way of getting proof to show the authorities. She knocked and noted the cracked windows to her side. After a few seconds, Villain opened the door.

“Hey, I’m glad you could make it. Come on in.” He led her down the musty hall towards a suspiciously normal bedroom. “Thanks again for making the trek all the way over here. My mom hasn’t been doing too well recently, and I’m trying not to leave her alone for too long.”

“Of course, I get it.” Hero let her eyes trail over the spartan room. The only furniture was a bed and two chairs beside a fold-up table covered with books and scribblers. Funny, the number of times Villain escaped from her with stolen cash made her think he’d at least have better furniture. Or a safe to put the money in. Maybe it was hiding in the closet? Although in this neighbourhood, keeping money lying around might not be the brightest idea. “It’s good that you’re taking care of her.”

He nodded, avoiding her gaze and moving his stuff from the table to the floor. “Hopefully, this next surgery will be the one that works.”

“Yeah, it’s tough watching people you love go through painful things. My sister has a heart problem right now, and it’s terrifying to watch her energy come and go.” Shut up! Stop telling him personal things. “Yeah.” She finished lamely.

Their gazes locked in understanding. Hero was the first to break away. “Ready to start the pain?”

They worked on the assignment in silence for a while. Honestly, there was probably a special punishment designed for whoever invented assignments over ten pages long. This just wasn’t fair. Hero sat back, running a hand through her hair. “I think this is karma's way of punishing me for not reading the textbook.”

His lips quirked. “There’s a textbook for this class? That would’ve been helpful to know at the start of the semester.”

“Want to know how tired I was at the beginning of the semester? I can’t even remember choosing my classes,” she pulled a hand down her face. “I think I just closed my eyes and pointed at the screen.”

“You could have been in differential calculus. Or worse, accounting.”

“Or Phys Ed. Did you know our university has a course devoted to badminton?”

Villain laughed. “What a racket. To think, I could have spent time swinging my arm around and gotten credit for it.”

“But then you’d be missing out on the glories of this assignment.”

“And a friend.”

Oh nope. Big nope. Wait, Hero reconsidered. Were they friends?  They did chat after class and had studied a few times together, but that didn’t mean- wait. Huh. Time to deflect with awkward humour and process these feelings later. “I thought you saw me as a role model, but that’s cool too. I’ll just have to find a new lackey.”

“And here I thought you were friends with me for my brilliance and good looks.”

She felt her cheeks begin to burn. “Yep, it’s all for your looks. If you seduce our professor, then we don’t have to do this assignment anymore.”

Villain rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seduced a professor before. Would I have to wear a sweater vest?”

“And a tweed jacket. It’s the only way.” Her fingers twitched, and she was suddenly very aware of him. The light hitting his hair, the way his lips curled when he was amused… Bad, very bad. This is your official ABORT MISSION alert. Find some evidence on the dangerous criminal and get out of there. She cleared her throat. “I’m parched. Could I get some water?”

Villain nodded, standing and leaving the room. Hero leapt out of the chair the moment the door shut behind him.  Her eyes latched on the only place one could hide anything in the sparse room - the closet. She yanked it open, feeling her heart speed up at the sound of Villain opening a cupboard in the kitchen and turning on the tap.

The closet was small and impressively dull. Clothes and boxes littered the tiny  shelves, with no signs of the files or weapons she was looking for. A flap of a familiar fabric dangling from one of the top boxes caught her eye. Bingo. Hero gingerly reached to feel the consistency, making sure she wasn’t wrong before bringing the authorities in, and accidentally bumped an elbow against the side of the closet. The box plummeted from its precarious placement and met the ground with a thump. No! She scrambled to pick up the box and the spilled-out uniform when a movement behind made her pause.

Villain stood in the doorway, hand clenched around a glass of water. His eyes darted to the clothes on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Hero’s throat went dry. She tightened her grip on the clothes and tried to look surprised. “S-something fell in your closet, so I opened it to check what it was.”

“Huh,” Villain said. “That’s unfortunate.”

He knelt, gently taking his outfit from her hands and placing it back in the box. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“Clearly.”  Hero swallowed and prepared to run if he attacked. Worst case scenario, she had beat him before and could do it again. Theoretically. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” A familiar calculation crept across his face, making her hands shake. Villain sat across from her and blocked the only exit, placing the cup of water between them. She felt trapped against the closet.

“You know, if this had happened a month ago, I would have killed you without a second thought,” he said mildly. “Guess you’re lucky.”

A horrifying reminder that she was not dealing with her awkward classmate anymore. “What are you going to do instead?”

Villain shrugged, seeming far too calm for the situation. “I don’t know yet. Talk, I guess?”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Hero said, lying through her teeth.

“Unfortunately, I’m too old to believe the promises of others so easily.” He trailed his fingers through the thin carpet, tracing patterns through the material. “Even yours. The stakes are just too high.”

“What’s even worth all the stealing and destruction?” she asked quietly. “Why do you do it? “

The  fingers paused. “It started out as one job. My mom needed treatment, and we didn’t have the money to pay for it. Then one treatment turned into two.” He shook his head. “Before I knew it, I was on the city’s most-wanted list.”

Her shoulders tensed. “Will you stop when the treatments are finished?”

“There have been other benefits to criminal activity.” Villain ducked his head, cheeks turning pink. “Lots of amazing people to meet. I haven’t decided yet.”

She leaned against the wall beside the closet, feeling safer with something solid against her back. “I don’t know if meeting people through crime is worth a lifetime in jail.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d be surprised.”

Hero picked up the forgotten water sitting between them and drank, if nothing else than for the excuse to avoid responding.

His fingers trailed larger patterns in the carpet. “I never wanted you to find out- this is one of the first friendships I’ve made since I started university. I don’t want to lose that. And I don’t want you getting hurt, but this does put me in a tight position. I won’t let you inform the authorities.”

Hero pressed her back further against the wall.

Villain took one look at her wide eyes and softened his tone. “Just don’t tell. If I get one inkling that you’re about to turn me in, then..." he sighed. "Please don’t make me choose between you and my mom.”

He would know it was her. Hero didn’t think she could after this. Or fight him, knowing it was for his mom’s medical bills. She pursed her lips, making a highly regrettable split-second decision. “Alright. But only on one condition: you stop once her treatments are done.”

He twitched. “I told you, I haven’t decided yet-”

“I’m making the decision for you.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. "Deals are much easier to trust than promises.”

“No. I’d miss-” Villain stopped, clenching his jaw. “I can’t let certain people from that life go yet.”

Something clicked. The girl he liked was from his criminal life… Oh gosh, Hero probably knew her. The brunette villain from the southside? The redheaded weapons supplier? Stop getting distracted.

“I trust you. Give it up as soon as you can.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “For me.” That was even worse. Was it possible to die from a foot in your mouth?

Villain relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s a deal.” He stuck out a hand and Hero grasped it, shaking firmly and ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest. So like, a 5 on the good idea scale.

@revrevrew-personal @spruceandpine @sailor-cat2 @literally-just-kirby @emerqlds @chaoticgoodandu @notsocharmingmagician @flying-paperboat @touchedbyanerdyotaku

#my writing #writing #hero #villain #creative writing #hero x villain #heroes and villains #hero villain snippet #snippet #my snippet #sorry for the long wait guys! #two idiots in love #if i was Hero I'd tell Villain's mom

[study-coffee-chicago]

Stars on your Sleeve (Part 2) [A Jay Halstead Imagine]

A/N: The name of the girl is Y/N (I mostly write my imagines in second person POV...except for the one you guys might see in a few weeks) and cariña is just a nickname/term of endearment in Spanish that means sweetheart. Sorry if anyone got confused about that in part one!

"Dad," you started as you walked into Jay's office after school that day.

It was a Thursday and you had taken the bus from school to the district. It wasn't often that you did this, but you had gotten texts from both your mom and dad telling you that the current case was going to drag on and on tonight, so they wanted you at the district so that you wouldn't be home alone until two or three o'clock in the morning.

"Hi, cariña. How was your day? Learn anything interesting in school?"

"Dad," you groaned. "It's high school, half the stuff they teach me I won't ever use again."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to know about my daughter's day."

"Just can't wait for this week to be over to sleep in."

"You and me both, kid."

"Half the time you work weekends though, Dad," you pointed out.

"Comes with the sergeant title."

"And your sleeping in is like 7:00."

"Point taken. Now, did Mom pack you a few extra snacks or do you need some money for the vending machines?"

"She didn't--"

"Don't even finish that sentence, young lady," Hailey said as she burst into Jay's office. "I packed you a few extra things and you know it. You just want--"

"--Oreos," Jay and Hailey said at the same time.

"Hey, don't blame me! They taste good," you protested. "Anyway, Dad, can I use your laptop to do my homework?"

"Don't you have that school-issued one?"

"That one blocks Netflix."

Jay crossed his arms across his chest. "Homework, huh?"

"I'm just writing a paper. It's not like I'm doing math or reading something."

"What type of paper?" Hailey asked. "Because, I'm pretty sure that if it's a research paper, you need to focus."

"It's a narrative, so I don't need to be constantly focused, Mom."

"Makayla does the same thing," Adam said as he entered the office as well. "Let the kid have the laptop, Jay."

"Thanks, Adam."

"Uh," Jay groaned, "I guess."

"We also have a lead, so you wanna roll out after I give you the info?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, Y/N, you need to go into the breakroom now."

"But why can't I stay in here?" you whined. "I want your spinny chair."

"Y/N, this is a case," your mom told you. "You know the rules: no being around the case talk. It's for your own good, we don't want to scar or scare you."

Mom, you know what I've seen, you wanted to tell her, but you knew it would be no use as your parents would never budge on this rule.

"I know, Mom."

Jay pulled his laptop from his desk along with the charger. "Rules?" he probed, holding onto the laptop and charger.

"Dad, I know the rules. Mom, c'mon, tell him."

"It's your dad's laptop, Y/N. I'm not arguing with you or him on this one."

Jay cocked his head to the side. "I'll give you the laptop after you tell me the rules...even though I know you know them."

You sighed. You went through this every time you used his laptop when he was going to be gone. "Only use my account, don't try to login to your account, and do not delete my search history."

"Here you go." He handed you his laptop and charger. "Good luck on your paper. Don't work too hard."

You went into the breakroom and opened the laptop. First, you pulled up Netflix, and then you pulled up your paper. It was your paper for your senior portfolio, which most people were putting off, seeing as you were only a freshman, you didn't need to work on it yet. But, you knew it had to be long, so starting it now would probably be helpful.

The paper was basically a narrative telling a story about each year of school. The stories had to be from two to five pages long, which meant that the paper in its entirety would be between 26 and 65 pages long. But, you didn't mind. It's not like you had to write a boring research paper. You also had to write about your career goals and one wish for your future as well, which would make the paper even longer still.

Seeing as your schooling didn't exactly match up with the American school system until you were around nine and in third grade, you had gotten permission from your teacher to just write about the sections of kindergarten, first, and second grade, as just memories from when you were six, seven, and eight years old.

You'd save the memories of six and seven for later, since you'd have to dig into the part of your brain where you were in the orphanage with your older sister, Illiana.

For now, you just scribbled down a few lines for ideas of when you were eight years old...which was pretty simple since a lot happened in your life that year.

***

"Y/N, we brought you some food if you--"

"Shut up!" Mouse hissed as the rest of the unit clambered up the stairs and into the bullpen. "She's sleeping."

Yes, when Mouse came home he returned to his job as the tech analyst of the Intelligence Unit. And, when Jay became sergeant, he pulled a few strings and got him a huge salary increase.

"I'll pull the car around front," Hailey offered.

"No," Jay whined. "That means I gotta be the bad guy and wake her up."

"Sorry, babe. I call dibs."

"Ew, guys, please keep the lovey-dovey nicknames to home. I don't need to see that," Adam joked.

"Shut up, Ruz."

Hailey swiped the keys from Jay's office and Jay went to wake you up. But, before he did, he saw the laptop, still open to both Netflix and your paper.

There wasn't much in the paper yet, as Jay had expected, only a few bullet points. His name caught his eye below the age 8 section...whatever that meant. He didn't mean to pry (well, really he did), but he closed the laptop without logging you out so that he and Hailey could take a look at it later.

"Y/N, Y/N, wake up."

You were woken up by someone gently shaking your shoulder.

"Quiero dormir, vaya," you whined. That was one thing you always did: reverted back to Spanish when you were tired. At least both Jay and Hailey understood it now because they had learned Spanish...which helped them with parenting because when they were mad at you, they'd talk in Spanish and that's how you know you were in deep shit.

"I know you want to sleep, and I'm not leaving," Jay answered. "But, we're going home so you can sleep in your bed instead of here."

"Mmmm, okay," you mumbled. You rubbed your eyes, but then decided it was too much work to get up, so you just sat up and closed your eyes once again.

"C'mon, cariña. Mom's got the car out front and then all you gotta do is stay awake until we get home, okay?"

"Mmmm," you mumbled and then stood up. He already had your backpack slung over his shoulder and was holding his laptop in the other hand. "Can I skip school tomorrow? I'm tired."

"Not a chance," Jay chuckled. "But, I can drive you to school and we can get you a frappucino on the way there."

"Mom won't be mad?"

"We don't have to tell Mom everything now do we?"

"No, we don't."

***

"What are you doing?" Hailey asked Jay as she slid into bed next to him that night. "Are you seriously checking our daughter's search history this late at night? C'mon Jay, she's a good kid. You won't find anything."

"That's not what I'm looking at. But, now that you mention it, I should probably check that, too."

"Then, what are you reading? Because I know for a fact that your case notes are definitely not as organized as that."

"Wow, Hails, you're so sweet," Jay said sarcastically. "It's Y/N's paper. The rubric was pasted at the top and it looks like she has to write about a memory from each year of her life and her career goals and a wish for the future."

"And you were snooping because...?"

"Because I saw my name. I wanna see what she says about us, Hailey."

"Jay, she loves us, baby. We're her parents. We both know that. You don't need to read her schoolwork to know that."

"Either way, I'm still reading it. Join me if you want, or go to sleep."

"Uh, fine. But if she asks, this was your idea and I will not hesitate to throw you under the bus."

Age 8, they both read to themselves, leaving/running away from orphanage

"God, no matter how many years it's been since she told us what happened, it never fails to break my heart," Hailey said.

Jay wrapped one arm around his wife. "I know, babe. I feel the exact same way."

"Hey, Y/N," the therapist started and you looked up at her. "Do you want to in that room over there and watch some tv while I talk to jay and Hailey? I can even turn on the Spanish movies for you."

"Okay!"

After getting you all set up, she left you in the room with a Spanish children's movie playing while she went to get Jay and Hailey.

"Jay and Hailey?" she asked as she entered the waiting room.

"Dr. Smith," Jay greeted.

"I have something to tell both of you, and Y/N told me it was okay that I tell you. When I asked if she wanted to be the one to tell you this, she said no because she didn't want to make you sad."

They entered the room where you had previously been and Dr. Smith sat in a chair and Jay and Hailey sat on the couch.

"What's this about?" Hailey asked.

"Well, she told me why she ran away from the orphanage."

Jay and Hailey were shocked. You'd been with them for three months and hadn't once mentioned why you ran away and what happened before Jay found you. It wasn't for lack of trying on Hailey and Jay's part, though. They tried. After all, they knew how to talk to child victims. But, they didn't want to push you too hard, and eventually, they just dropped the topic all together because they knew you'd talk about it when you were ready. Apparently, today was the day that you were ready to tell that story.

"And?" Jay pushed. "Why'd she run away?"

"She said that they came for her, the people who you were fighting," Dr. Smith said.

"Los Rebeldes," Jay said, more to Hailey than to anyone else.

"They came for her specifically?" Hailey asked.

"No, they just came to the orphanage. She said that she heard voices--male voices--telling them to get down on the ground and then some shots rang out. Her sister, Illiana, told her to hide and slipped the necklace around her neck. So, she did. She said she closed her eyes really tight and she just laid there, hiding and barely breathing. She said she heard a gunshot and then she heard Illiana scream and she heard squishing noises."

"Oh my God," Hailey gasped.

"You're saying they shot and killed her?" Jay asked, his voice cracking.

"That's what it sounded like, yes."

"How did she get out?"

"She said that she snuck out through a small door in the back of the room. She said it wasn't a real door, but it was a small door that led to the outside, by her description, it sounded about three feet tall and two feet wide."

"The waste doors," Jay muttered.

"The what?" Hailey asked.

"The waste doors...well, that's what we called them on Base anyway. They were these little doors where you could place stuff outside. Sometimes we'd put the packaging of our MRE's there or other crap we didn't need anymore. Not good for the planet, but yeah, that's what we did."

"So, Jay, you're telling me that Y/N essentially snuck out of the orphanage through a trash chute?"

"Well, we used them for waste, which is why we called them waste doors. But, I heard rumors of them being used at orphanages for parents to put their baby in a crib. They'd just open the door and place the baby in the little crib on the other side of the door."

"She moved the crib and snuck out through there?"

"If there was a crib, then she moved it and got out. If not, she just crawled out through there."

"Did she tell you anything about when she left?" Hailey asked Dr. Smith.

"She said that she didn't have much with her, just her teddy bear and that locket. But, she said that she walked for the rest of the day. And, according to her timeline, the soldiers came right after breakfast. She said she was really scared that they were going to find her and so she just kept walking. But then, she found a bit of a forest it sounded like and since it was starting to get dark and cold, she laid down."

"I found her in the middle of the night and she must've been there since sunset. No wonder she was hypothermic."

"We got her her first banana split after that therapy session," Hailey said. "I honestly don't know whether the food was to get her to try something new or to comfort us."

"Yeah, that was a rough night. I didn't even want her to leave my arms," Jay said. "Jay found me and I went home to Chicago," he read aloud. "Man, that night was rough, too. Probably worse than the night where we found out why she left."

"Now, it's crowded here, cariña so stay cerca to us or go mano a mano with me or Hailey, okay?" Jay asked you as the three of you found a parking spot at Navy Pier.

Adam, Kim, Kevin, and Will were all there as well. They had planned to go out and party and go to a bar when Jay returned home, but that changed now that he and Hailey had a kid to take care of, so they had decided to take a trip to Navy Pier.

In the airport, Jay had gotten a huge coffee from Starbucks, seeing as he had barely slept on the way home. Before coming to Navy Pier, you had gone to a place called iHOP where you had gotten some really yummy pancakes, and Adam, Kevin, and Will had made you laugh a lot and Kim spoke Spanish with you.

"What does that word mean?" you asked.

"What word?" Jay asked, looking down at you as he took your hand.

"Cr-crowded," you sounded out slowly.

"Uh, it means there's lots and lots of people."

"Oh, okay. I stay by you."

"So Y/N, what do you like to do?" Will asked you.

"I like reading and play fútbol," you told him.

"Really? Jay loves playing soccer!"

"We played back at the big house in España," you told Will excitedly. "We won and I got lots and lots of goals."

"Looks like you have a pro soccer player on your hands, little brother," Will said to Jay.

"Don't I know it."

"We go on the big thingy you showed me in the little book in the plane?" you asked Jay.

"The Ferris wheel?" You nodded excitedly. "We can do that, but let's walk around first. We might be able to play some games and win you a friend for Osito."

"Really? Osito have a friend?"

"Really," Jay promised.

As you walked down Navy Pier, you were excitedly pointing out every little thing you saw from the ducks and the seagulls to the big yachts floating down the Chicago River.

"Let's go into Garrett's, babe," Hailey suggested when they were inside the big atrium. "Give her a taste of Chicago's world-famous popcorn."

"I think that's a great idea," Jay agreed. "What do you think, cariña? Want to try some popcorn and then we'll get your favorite?"

You tilted your head to the side. "Popcorn? What is that?"

"Palomitas," Kim clarified for you in Spanish. "Hay muchos tipos diferentes de palomitas allí para probar y comprar."

"Oh, okay. Yes, please."

"What did you say to her?" Hailey whispered to Kim.

"Just gave her the Spanish translation of popcorn and then told her that there's a bunch of different types of popcorn that she can try and buy in there. But, you and Jay most definitely have your work cut out for you when it comes to learning Spanish. You're lucky that she's pretty good with English already and that I'm here to help you learn Spanish."

***

"Sleepy, cariña?" Jay asked as he heard you yawn from the backseat.

Hailey was driving and he was holding a big bag of caramel and cheddar popcorn...which Hailey was telling him not to eat all of it because she knew he would. You were in the backseat with your big stuffed bear, whom you had named Osita since she was a girl bear because she had really soft white fur and a pink ribbon tied around her. Jay had won that for you when he played a shooting game. You also had a stuffed duck that Will had won for you when he played a guess the weight game. You named him Pato...which meant duck in Spanish. You had gone on the Ferris wheel and had pointed out all the pretty things in the sky when you were up there. Hailey had never seen Jay so happy as when he was smiling wide at every little thing you pointed out and he tried to explain to you what they were.

"No," you answered as you laid your head against Osita. It was currently 3 pm Chicago time, which made it about 9 pm Spain time.

"Tell you what," Hailey started, "When we get home, we can show you your room, and then we can watch a movie and eat this popcorn. Because, if we don't start eating it soon, Jay will eat it all."

"Jay eat it all if we no eat it too?"

"Jay eats a lot," Hailey joked.

You reached your hand in front of you and towards Jay. "Palomitas please." Jay chuckled and Hailey smiled as he put some popcorn into your little outstretched hand. "Gracias."

"De nada," Jay told you.

"When we watch movie, how I get it?" you asked.

"We get it on the tv," Jay told you.

"No, how I know what they saying?"

Hailey hadn't thought that far ahead when she had suggested watching a movie. "Um," Hailey faltered. "We can make it so it's in Spanish."

"But then you no know what they say," you pointed out.

"We can put words on the bottom of the screen in English for us," Jay suggested. "Then all three of us will know what they're saying. Is that okay?"

"Okay!"

"Hailey," Jay whispered. "What are we gonna watch?"

"She's too old for princesses probably and way too young for action movies...how about Disney Channel movies? We could try High School Musical? That one's pretty good."

"You're kidding Hails. You watched that? Didn't it come out when we were like 20 or 25?"

Hailey held back a laugh. "Yes, it did. But, I babysat a lot of kids in my neighborhood who were around Y/N's age, and we'd always end up watching those Disney Channel originals."

"Okay, whatever you say, babe."

***

"I think I'm gonna bring her to bed," Jay said.

You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie. Before starting it, you had seen your room. It was purple! And, in black letters behind your bed, it said Salon de Y/N, which meant Y/N's room. Jay assumed that Kim had helped Hailey with the spelling and the boys had helped move the furniture into your room. There was also a little basket with a few things they thought you would like, such as a few different colored soccer balls and a bookshelf.

On the bookshelf, Hailey had picked out some books in Spanish that she had found at Barnes and Noble and some short chapter books in English that she used to read as a kid, such as the Nancy Drew series and Little House on the Prairie. She knew that you might need help reading them and might not be able to completely understand them all by yourself yet, but she knew that she and Jay would be there to help you.

"It's 6:00," Hailey protested. "Shouldn't we wake her up and have her stay awake for a few more hours so that her body can adjust?"

"If you're asking an adult like me that, yes, I'd stay awake. But, she's a kid. She needs her sleep. And, I'll probably be up before you anyway, so I can deal with her if she wakes us up at five in the morning."

"Okay super dad," Hailey joked. "Bring her to bed. I'll make us a quick dinner and cover this popcorn so it doesn't get stale. Can't wait for us to go to bed tonight." She winked.

"Hails, as much as I would love to take you up on that, I don't think it's a good idea when it's Y/N's first night. But, I will give you all the cuddles in the world tonight, don't you worry about that."

"As long as you didn't pick up the habit of snoring overseas then I'm all for that, babe."

***

Jay woke up to the sound of soft whimpering. It sounded like it was coming from the hallway but he couldn't be sure. He reached over Hailey and was about to grab her gun from her drawer where he knew that she kept it, but stopped when he remembered that it was probably just you. It wasn't just Jay and Hailey in the house anymore; you were there as well and that's probably where the noise was coming from. And, he didn't want to scare you by holding a gun.

He glanced over at the clock. 3 am. Yeah, sounds about right that you'd be waking up right about now since you'd slept for about nine hours and it was 9 am in Spain right now.

Jay slowly tiptoed out into the hallway, cursing himself that he hadn't left a light on or kept his and Hailey's bedroom door open so you could find them easily.

Jay reached out for the hall light switch and flicked on the lights, causing you to jump. "Hey, hey, it's just me. It's just Jay," he said calmly once he laid eyes on you. You were holding Osito and there were fresh tears running down your cheeks.

Jay never knew the force of an eight-year-old running into him could be so strong as to almost knock him over. You dropped Osito and wrapped your arms around him as if your life depended on it.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jay soothed. "What's wrong, cariña? Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I-I no know where I was," you mumbled into his shirt. "Was dark. Think you and Hailey left, so I came to find you."

"Oh, sweetie," Jay started. "I'm sorry. I forgot to turn the light on for you in your room so that you'd know where you are. And, me and Hailey would never leave you."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Your stomach grumbled. "Hungry?" you nodded. "Alright, let's get you a sandwich and then get you back to bed."

"You eat too?" you asked.

"You know, I could go for a sandwich."

***

The next morning, Hailey rolled over to see that Jay wasn't in bed next to her and his side of the bed was cold. Then, she remembered you and walked over to your room and slowly opened the door. You looked up from the Spanish book you were reading and put a finger to your lips.

"Jay sleeping," you told Hailey.

Jay was sitting upright in your bed against the headboard, his thumb holding a place in what looked to be a Nancy Drew book.

"Did Jay read to you last night, huh?" Hailey asked as she walked closer to you and Jay.

"Yeah, he told me that Nancy does what you and Jay do with policia. Then, I sleep again and then I wake up and he sleep again, so I started reading in Spanish."

"I think we should let him sleep a little more while we go finish High School Musical and eat palomitas before Jay eats it all. Does that sound good?"

You nodded eagerly and closed your book. Then, you got out of bed and followed Hailey out of your room. And, after hearing that Jay had read to you and seeing him sleeping upright in your bed so that you'd be able to sleep, she had one more reason why she was truly head over heels for the man she married and got to call her husband.

"Look, Jay. She wrote her birthday in here for age 9," Hailey said as she pointed to the laptop screen.

"God, I don't think I'll forget that day for the rest of my life. It was such a good day."

"You are such a sap when it comes to Y/N."

"Hey! let me be sappy about our daughter, Hailey Anne. She's in high school now, high school. That means she'll be going off to college soon."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, sergeant," she joked. "Just keep reading this. It was your idea to snoop through her stuff after all."

"Jay, you got the stuff?" Hailey asked as she was sitting cross-legged on their bedroom floor with wrapping paper, tape, and scissors in front of her.

"Jesus, Hails," Jay laughed, "You make it sound like we're doing a drug deal."

"Well sorry if I want her birthday to go really well. Now, did you get them or not?"

"They're in here." He set a plastic bag down on the bed. He took out three framed pictures and laid them out on the bed. Of course, he made sure that the frames were different shades of purple. "Good?"

Hailey stood up and looked at the pictures. "I never know the CPD's sketch software could work miracles like this, so yeah, I'd say we did good."

Over the past month, everyone in Intelligence had told you that they were testing out a new sketch software to use to try to track down criminals. They let you play with it because they said they wanted to see what it would do...even though they knew what it did, how good it was, and it wasn't new. It was just a ploy to make sure they got your birthday gift right. They had told you to try and input someone's face from memory, someone like your older sister, Illiana.

So, when you had to go to the district for the day with Jay and Hailey, you'd ask to play with that software to work on your sketch. Little did you know, they were printing it out on fancy photo paper and putting it in a frame for your birthday. Jay had also swiped your necklace one day when you had taken it off to go swimming and had taken pictures of what your mom and dad looked like. Then, he and Hailey each took one parent and worked on making their faces through the CPD's sketch software.

"Now what the hell is this?" Jay asked as he held up a big board that Hailey had laying out in front of her as well.

"That, Jay, is so we can stick the back of the frames to it so that we don't have to give the three of them to her separately. Then, she can just take them off from it and place them wherever she wants in her room."

"You're smart. Maybe you should've gone to law school."

"Haha, very funny, Halstead. But then I wouldn't have met you."

"Eh, I beg to differ. You'd probably end up being some prosecution or defense attorney and then I'd have to testify, and after getting yelled at by you on the stand, I'd end up making an ass of myself and ask you out for a drink."

"Is that so?"

"That is very much so."

He walked up to her and grabbed her by the waist and she gave him a peck on the lips. "Hails," Jay whined. "Why'd you phone it in?"

"Because we have presents to wrap. Now, sit your ass down on the carpet and help me."

"Yes ma'am. But, damn, you're really going to be the death of me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

***

"Before we do cake everyone, me and Hailey have one more gift for Y/N," Jay announced by tapping a fork gently against his champagne glass. Yes, the adults were drinking champagne because they were celebrating your first birthday with them as their kid. No, they wouldn't even give you one sip...but you didn't care and you didn't ask.

You had gotten spoiled all day. Will had taken you out for breakfast where you had gotten chocolate chip pancakes with all the toppings. Then, he took you to the sporting goods store where you bought an FC Madrid jersey and to Barnes Noble where you bought a few new books.

Then, when you got home, you were surprised to find everyone from Intelligence there along with some people from Med, and firehouse 51. Emilia, Mouse, and Makayla were there, and your friend, Rosa, whom Emilia had introduced you to earlier in the year at her welcome home party since Rosa was one of Emilia's little cousins.

You had gone outside and played a huge soccer game. And, when you got sick of playing soccer, Emilia busted out a makeup kit she had bought for you. And you, Makayla, Emilia, and Rosa did each other's makeup. While the four of you were doing makeup, a soccer tournament had broken out where Intelligence played Med, and then the winner of that game played Firehouse 51. Intelligence won against Med...mostly due to Jay. But, then they played 51 and they got creamed.

"Here you go, nena," Hailey said as she passed you the gift. Hailey had started calling you nena since Jay had a nickname for you, cariña, which you learned now meant sweetheart in English. So, she decided to call you nena, which meant honey. And, you and Hailey had thought it only fair if you came up with a nickname for Jay. So, the one you decided on was quite fitting in your mind: pecas...which translated to freckles. And, Will, well Will calls you Osa because your favorite animal is a bear. It's probably one of only three words he knows in Spanish next to hola and adios.

The gift was long and hard...like a piece of wood. You slowly opened the gift, wondering what else you could have possibly gotten.

You bit your lip as you finished tearing the paper off and flipped it over. "Mamí, Papí, Illiana," you whispered as you held back tears. "¿Cómo lo hicisteis?" you asked. Seeing as Jay and Hailey had been working very hard on their Spanish for the past nine months, they could understand you and could sometimes explain an English word to you in Spanish if needed.

"We didn't really need to test out the drawing thing," Jay answered. "We just needed a picture of Illiana. And, I got the pictures of your parents from the locket."

At this, you started to cry harder, remembering that day when Jay had to cut your necklace off of you in the back of the Med truck in Spain.

You stood up and hugged both Jay and Hailey at the same time. Now, you had both of your families watching over you: your biological family from in heaven and your parents in the here and now. And, your biological family now had no doubt in their mind up there that you would never, ever forget them.

"You remember what she called us that night?" Hailey asked.

"How could I forget? It was the first night she called us mom and dad. I still remember her exact words when I told her we weren't trying to replace her biological family: Son mi familia en el cielo y en mi corazon, pero vosotros sois mi familia aquí."

"They're my family in heaven and in my heart, but you are my family here."

"Exactly."

"Oh my God!" Hailey laughed. "She wrote sixth-grade: I cheated on a literature test and Mom had to come to pick me up and I got in trouble. And then, Dad went full-on dad-mode."

"No fucking way," Jay laughed as he brought the laptop closer to him and looked for the sixth-grade section. "I can't believe this is what she's going to write about!"

"Well, in her defense, it was the first time we had to ground her and the first time you went full-on, overprotective, my daughter can do no wrong dad-mode."

"Pretty sure the next time I'll do that is when she gets asked to the homecoming dance later this year."

"Jay! You will not! You will not scare the boys away from our daughter!"

"Well, they should be scared!" Jay argued. "We're both cops, babe. We can make their death look like an accident."

"Jay, what you're talking about is murder and I shouldn't have to remind you that that is illegal. If so, I am going to the Ivory Tower tomorrow to get you stripped of your sergeant title."

"Fine, fine. The next time I'll do that is when she gets her driver's license."

"Hey, on the bright side, we wouldn't have to pick her up from the principal's office then," Hailey pointed out. "She could just drive herself home."

"We wouldn't have to figure out which of us should go pick her up like last time?"

"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure she was thankful that it was you and not me who picked her up in sixth grade."

"Miss Halstead," your literature teacher said as she stalked over to you from the other side of the classroom. "Care to tell me what you have under your sleeve?"

"My arm?"

"I don't like being disrespected in my classroom. We both know you have your phone in there. And, lying to me will just make this worse."

"I-I needed it," you stammered, not wanting to have the whole class hear how stupid you were.

"For a test? You know the rules: no cheating. Principal's office, now. Grab your stuff. And, I'll be calling your parents as you walk down there."

You grabbed your backpack and started your walk to the principal's office. It's not like you had a choice...well, you did have a choice. You could've just not used your phone on the test. But, after that last grade you got on that essay and how weirdly worded the questions were, you basically had no choice but to use your phone. It's not like you were using it to look up the answers per se, but you were using it to try and understand the questions because there was no way you were going to ask that teacher.

"Mrs. Halstead, right this way," you heard the office secretary say as they led Hailey to the principal's office. Your phone was sitting on the principal's desk, the tab you had been using to cheat open and you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. You had thought about deleting your search history, but knew it wouldn't be of any use because Jay and Hailey would just be able to look it up with whatever police software crap that Intelligence had access to. You knew you'd be in more trouble if you deleted it and they found out that you were lying, so you decided you wouldn't delete it...even though you were regretting that decision as your phone screen stared back at you.

"May I ask why my daughter is in the principal's office when I thought she should be taking a test?" Jay and Hailey knew all about your literature test that day as you had read the book twice to be ready for it.

"That's exactly why she's in here, Mrs. Halstead," the principal told Hailey. "She was trying to cheat on her literature test."

"She wouldn't do that!" Hailey defended you. "She studied so hard!" She looked between both you and the principal, but your gaze stayed trained on the floor.

"Just take a look."

He passed Hailey your phone and she looked at the search history and the timestamps of said history. "Y/N, is this true?"

You nodded. Hailey sighed. "I'm assuming she's suspended?"

"Since this is her first academic infraction, I'm not going to suspend her. She does need to go home for the rest of the school day, though."

"Thank you. C'mon Y/N, let's go."

You hung your head as you left the middle school, Hailey holding your phone and still trying to figure out why you did this. But she knew that one thing was for sure: the minute Jay got home, he would not be happy.

***

"You're kidding me, right?" you heard Jay ask Hailey in the kitchen.

You were currently in your room, but the kitchen was right down the hall, so if you were quiet and focused enough, you could hear their conversation.

"I wish I was, Jay," Hailey said. "Just...here, take a look."

You assumed that Hailey was handing Jay the phone and he was looking at your search history.

Jay took a deep breath and restrained himself from shoving the chair into the kitchen table.

You heard his heavy footsteps coming down the hall and quickly locked your door and then sat back down on your bed.

You heard the doorknob jiggle as Jay tried to open your door.

"Y/N! ¡Abras la puerta inmediatamente!" (Open the door immediately!)

You were in deep shit if he was yelling at you in Spanish.

You didn't move from your bed.

"¡Ábrelo ahora!" (Open it now!)

"¡Estoy viniendo! ¡Calmáse!" (I'm coming! Calm yourself!) You got up from the bed and opened the door.

"Do not ever, ever tell me to calm down ever again! Do you understand me?" Jay asked angrily as he flung open your door after he had unlocked it. You nodded. "Now, I understand that you were caught cheating on a test. Care to explain that to me?"

"Not really," you sighed as you sat on your bed.

"I'm giving you one more chance to explain to me why you chose to cheat. And I suggest you tell me the truth, kid."

You looked up to be met with Hailey standing in the doorway. She nodded to you as if to say you better listen to your dad.

"Well?" he asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I needed to cheat!"

"Nobody needs to cheat!"

"Well, I did!" You dug through your backpack and found the paper you had to write for the class that your teacher failed you on. "Because of this!" You threw the paper on your bed. "And because my teacher is a puta!"

"You do not call your teacher a bitch, young lady!" Jay yelled.

"Jay!" Hailey yelled. "Take the paper, go to our room and read it and calm down!"

"So Mom can tell you to calm down but I can't?"

Jay turned back to you, but Hailey grabbed his arm. "Bedroom Jay. Now." He left the room and Hailey turned to you. "As for you. You're grounded from your phone for the foreseeable future. Sorry, nena. Now, we'll be back to talk to you after we've read whatever it is you threw on your bed."

***

"We read the paper," Jay said as he and Hailey entered your room again fifteen minutes later. "And, I'm sorry for yelling. I know me and your mom are both detectives, but it'd look better if you told us why you cheated instead of leaving us to put the pieces together."

"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just, I failed that paper. And, I worked really hard on it. And, she said it wasn't a real tradition."

The paper topic was to write about a family tradition and you wrote about the Spanish tradition of eating grapes on New Year's Eve. With twelve seconds left of the year, you'd put a grape in your mouth for every second that passed. You'd try to get all twelve grapes in your mouth, but that was really hard. You wrote about the last time you did it with your family and your papí almost got all of them in your mouth while you only got three in your mouth since you were only three years old at the time.

One of the grading criteria for the paper was that it had to be a real tradition.

"She said that it wasn't a real tradition, Dad. She said that because she had never heard of it and that it sounded weird to her, that it wasn't real. So, she failed me. I also put some Spanish words in there, but I put the translations next to it. I thought it would make it more...what's the word? It's kind of like real? Like it'd make it more real to read? You know that word for it?"

"Authentic?" Hailey asked.

"Yeah, that. I thought it'd make it more authentic to read. And, I knew the material of the book. But, the questions were so confusing and I didn't want to ask her to clarify because she's mean."

"So you googled the questions to try to figure out what they were asking?" Hailey asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I really am. I just didn't want you to be disappointed in me and think that I've been here for four years and not know English."

"Oh, cariña." Jay crouched in front of you. "We'd never think that. I promise. And I know Mom would never think that either, right?"

"That's right," Hailey agreed.

"Now, I have to go make a phone call."

"You went off on that teacher, Jay! I don't think I've ever heard you that angry when you weren't in interrogation!" Hailey laughed.

"Well yeah! That teacher's logic and grading criteria were seriously flawed. And, you read that paper. It was really good. As Y/N put it that day, she really was a puta."

Hailey rolled her eyes.

"Wish for the future," Jay read aloud. "I wish that I could figure out why Los Rebeldes came to the orphanage and killed Illiana."

"I think that's enough snooping through her stuff for the day, babe," Hailey said, beginning to feel uncomfortable reading this. "Let's just go to bed."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna take a quick shower and I'll be back, okay? I love you." He gave Hailey a quick peck on the lips and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

"I love you, too."

But, Jay barely heard her. He was so lost in thought about how to get answers for you, for his daughter. Hell, he wanted those answers just as bad as you. What kind of sick bastard would come into an orphanage heavily armed and just kill innocent civilians and innocent children?

***

"Mouse," Jay said as he entered the bullpen the next morning, "I need your help with something."

"Jeez, Jay, you're late," Ruzek commented. "Where's Hailey?"

"It's her RDO. And, I promised Y/N a frappuccino because she had to wake up early for school and had to go to bed late last night because we were working a case."

"Does Hailey--"

"No, Adam. Hailey does not know that I gave our fourteen-year-old daughter sugar-laced coffee this morning. And, if you so much as say the words frappuccino, Jay, and Y/N in the same sentence, I will bump you back down to patrol so fast you won't know what hit you."

Jay started to walk towards the tech area where he assumed Mouse would be. His voice carried, so he hoped he'd heard him when he'd said he needed his help.

"Whose idea was it to give Jay all this power?" Adam asked rhetorically. "I think it's going to his head."

"I heard that Ruz!"

"You needed something, Jay?" Mouse asked as he turned around from his laptop and took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, can you do something off the books for me?"

"You don't even have to ask anymore, man."

"Just need to make sure you don't assign a case number to it."

"I can do that. Now, what do you need?"

Jay pulled out his phone and pulled up a Spanish newspaper article from two weeks ago. He laid the phone in front of Mouse. "This. This is why I need you."

Mouse looked at the phone and back up at Jay with raised eyebrows. "I'm gonna need you to translate that. I don't speak Spanish."

"Says that the guy who killed everyone in the orphanage that Y/N was in is meeting with his lawyer about an appeal. That son of a bitch. And, it's happening on Monday."

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday or you'll know if he won the appeal or not on Monday?" Mouse asked.

"He's meeting with his lawyer on Monday."

"And you need me because...?"

"Think you can hack into Spain's maximum-security federal prison system?"

"You cannot be serious."

"I am dead serious, Mouse."

"Why don't you just wait to hear the news?"

Jay sighed and took a seat next to Mouse. "Y/N has to write a paper and was using my laptop. It was this narrative thing for her senior project, so it's due in a few years. But, I'll spare you the details. Y/N had to write what one of her wishes for the future was and she wrote that she wants to know why the guy killed everyone in the orphanage. Not who, because we already know that it was Raúl Rodríguez. She wants to know why."

"That guy's the one who told them to attack the orphanage? The one that killed her sister, right?"

"That's the prick."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. I'd know that if it was my sister or my kid that I'd want to know."

"Thanks, man."

"Video and audio?"

"Yeah. I'm probably gonna get Emilia in on this too to translate."

"Why? Don't you and Hailey speak Spanish?"

"We do, but they're gonna talk really fast and I probably don't know law lingo except for the word lawyer."

"Fair enough. I'll get to work."

***

"Hails, Hails," Jay shook Hailey awake.

"Jay? Why are you home so late?" she asked as she rolled over and opened her eyes. It was almost 11:30 and she had gone to bed half an hour ago...she thought Jay would've been home by 11:00.

"Paperwork," Jay answered honestly. He instantly regretted his decision of waking Hailey up knowing her history of insomnia. "But, I shouldn't have woke you up. I'm sorry, babe."

"No, I'm awake now. What's up?" She sat up in bed and turned on the lamp to see Jay changing out of his clothes and into his pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "You don't have to sleep with a shirt on you know."

Jay smirked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But, don't want our daughter to walk in on me shirtless."

"She's spending the night at Rosa's," Hailey informed him.

"In that case..." Jay trailed off and took off his t-shirt along with his pajama pants so that he was just in his boxers. "Better?"

"Much better."

Jay pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slid in next to his wife. She cuddled into his side and he wrapped an arm around her.

"What'd you want to tell me?" she asked.

"How do you know I wanted to tell you something?"

"You had that look in your eye, Jay Halstead. Now, tell me."

"So persuasive." He rolled his eyes playfully.

"Shut up."

"You love it, though." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "You know how Y/N's biggest wish was to know why Raúl Rodríguez attacked the orphanage?"

"Mhmm," she mumbled.

"Well, I'm gonna find out why."

She pulled away from him. "What? How? You're going to Spain? To interrogate him? You know the CPD doesn't have jurisdiction there even though you were a ranger there, right?"

"Hails, I'm not going overseas to find him. I promise you that."

"Okay." She settled back into his embrace. "Then what are you doing?"

"Having Mouse see if he can hack into the prison system so that I can watch the lawyer talk to him."

"And you're going to be able to understand everything they're saying?"

"No, but Emilia will."

"You called her and told her your plan before you told me?"

"No! The only person who knows is Mouse. I figured I'd call Emilia tomorrow. Like I said, I was just at the district late doing paperwork."

"Okay, I believe you. And, we're not going to have her in the room with us, Y/N that is? We're going to tell her why he did this so she doesn't have to hear it from him?"

"Precisely. Now, am I right in assuming that since Y/N's gone for the night that we can be as loud as we want?"

"You are very much correct in that." Then, he gave her a kiss...and this time, he didn't phone it in at a peck.

***

You were sitting in the breakroom Monday afternoon trying to do some American history homework. There was so much reading involved, but it was okay because you liked history. And, there were pictures in the textbook...it wasn't like you were reading Romeo and Juliet like you had to do in English class.

You knew Emilia was here because she had brought you some fries, much to your mom and dad's dismay since your mom had packed you a few extra snacks. But, Emilia said she had to hold up her reputation as your cool aunt...even if she wasn't related to you whatsoever. And so far, she was holding it up.

You didn't know why she was here, but you assumed it was because Kim was in the field and they needed someone to translate audio. Sometimes Jay would call in Emilia if he knew that she wasn't working to do some translating so he didn't have to deal with calling up a patrolman. You also knew from hearing some of his conversations with Will that Will wanted to ask her out.

And, you hoped she say yes. You wanted Emilia to be your actual aunt. Apparently, she had a thing for doctors according to Jay's side of the phone conversations you'd heard, so you hoped it'd work out if your uncle Will ever got the balls to ask her out.

All of a sudden, Emilia came into Jay's office and he took off running. Hailey saw this and she started following them.

"What?" you asked yourself.

They always would tell you if they had to leave and they'd always be sure to tell you they loved you before they left.

You quietly walked out of the breakroom and towards where you had seen them running to. You assumed they were in the tech area because of the direction they ran in and the fact that whenever Emilia was here, she was most likely in the tech room.

As you got closer, you started hearing Spanish.

Someone talking about an attack...an attack on an orphanage.

A man said it was in the Tabernas Desert.

You peeked your head around the corner to see that on the screen there was a man in a nice suit and someone sitting at a table with handcuffs on.

"Anything we don't already know?" Hailey asked.

"Not that it sounds like right now," Emilia answered. "They're just talking about the orphanage Y/N and Illiana were in and where it was."

So this is the guy who did it. This was the guy--no, the monster--who led the attack that killed your sister.

"The lawyer just asked Rodríguez why he did it," Emilia said.

"And?" Jay asked

"Jay, I need to be able to hear them talk, so shut up."

Jay held his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"The lawyer just asked if it was something personal, something like Rodríguez being an orphan and he didn't have a good experience there so he attacked it, something that would tug at the board of appeals heartstrings essentially." There was a pause as Emilia continued listening. "He said no." She paused again. "Oh my God."

"What?" Jay asked frantically. "Why did that prick kill innocent children?"

"He said he ordered the attack because the orphanage was receiving aid from the US, for things such as food, clothing, and basic necessities."

"Un-fucking-believable." Jay wanted to punch something, but he restrained himself. "So, because our country was helping those who couldn't help themselves, this prick went after them?"

"That's what it sounds like. I'm sorry, Jay."

"Hails, how are we going to tell Y/N?"

"You guys don't have to tell me," you said as you made your presence known. "I heard the whole thing."

Jay sighed. "I'm sorry cariña, really I am. I'm sorry that this happened to you. That you had to find out this way. That this was the reason for what that monster did. I'm sorry."

"Dad read my outline?" you asked, turning to Hailey.

"Yeah, nena, he did. It was just open and you know him, he couldn't stop himself."

"Because he's a detective before he's a sergeant, just like Nancy Drew," you said, bringing it back to the books you'd used to read with your dad every night when you had just come over to the states from Spain and were working on your English.

"This should never have happened," Jay said softly as he walked over to you and brought you into a tight hug. "People that do these kinds of horrific acts shouldn't have the right to be born, much less to live."

"But if that wouldn't have happened you wouldn't have found me. And I wouldn't have found my forever Mom and Dad."

A/N: I wrote over 6.5k words to get this posted today! That's a new personal record for me! Also, my neuroscience class is kicking my butt right now, so if I don't update as frequently, that's why. Hopefully, I'll get one out every week or every two weeks at the latest. Please like/reblog and comment because I love getting feedback and it keeps me motivated to write. If you want to be added to the taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you! 

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e 

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #will halstead #ranger! jay #chicago pd #writer #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead fanfic

[killing-all-joy]

Sometimes Having Terrible Aim Is Worth It

Pairing: Analogince Word count: 4,492 Logan uses he/they pronouns cw: swearing, snowball fights, mentions of murder, implied bad parents, i might have made lore for this at 1am while bored whoops

Overall, Roman and Logan were happy with their neighborhood. The location was convenient for both of their works (the theatre and the high school) and the environment was very lax. It was a low-crime, middle-class neighborhood with people who seemed very nice.

Roman, the sociable one, had made friends with many of the people on their block, only leaving a couple of houses alone. He had told Logan that all the people he had talked with were amiable people worthy of their friendship. So, Logan had accompanied his boyfriend during conversations with their neighbors on occasion, despite being an introvert with a general disappointment in the human race.

It wasn’t with ease that Roman was able to leave the house on their right alone. He had been warned not to bother the man who lived there as soon as he had moved in and started to make friends with his new neighbors. A blonde woman who Roman guessed to be about twenty years older than him had knocked on the door the evening after the two had moved in and given them the gist of the neighborhood. Her name was Janet, and she had told them about which houses had kids (as well as which kids were the best or quietest), how many people lived at each house, what each resident was like, and finally, about the man who lived next door.

Apparently, he was introverted and creepy, didn’t have friends, had the scariest Halloween decorations, worked at an age-old psychiatric hospital, and was rude and disagreeable. Janet had sufficiently discouraged Roman and Logan from interacting with him, but even if she hadn’t, the reports from their other neighbors would have done the job.

One kid said she had knocked on his door on Halloween, and he had opened the door and snarled at her with a realistic vampire outfit on, laughing evilly as she ran away. One mother said she had gone to his house to ask for a cup of sugar, and he had given her a cup of salt instead. Three kids all said they had seen him near the haunted house on Fridays. There was a rumor going around that he had killed the previous owners of the house Roman and Logan now resided in because their cat had made a small scratch on his car (Logan and Roman were less inclined to believe that last rumor; it was evidence-less, unlike the others).

But, other than the next-door neighbor they were both terrified of, Roman and Logan liked their living situation very much.

It was January, right in the middle of winter. The weather refused to let their area forget this fact; the week had started out with a snowstorm and after one day of pause, it had snowed every day for the next four days. It was now Friday, the fourth consecutive day of having snow, and the neighborhood kids had calmed about the state of the weather. Earlier in the week, Roman and Logan would often look out their window to find kids playing in the snow. Now, the excitement had dialed down and the kids were exhausted. The couple figured that sometime in the middle of the next week, the kids would be back to causing snowy chaos, but there was still almost a week until that hypothesis would be put to the test. At the current time, the block was quiet.

Roman appeared next to Logan, who was reading. He perched himself on the armrest of Logan's armchair and put an arm around his boyfriend.

"Hey, Logan?" Roman asked, taking a lock of Logan's hair and twirling it between his fingers.

"What is it you want, darling?" Logan replied, not looking up from his book.

Roman frowned. "I never said I wanted something."

"You called me Logan," he explained like it were obvious, "so, you want something."

Roman rolled his eyes, wishing his boyfriend wasn't so observant. "I want to have a snowball fight outside."

Logan raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes on the novel in his hands. "I assume that you want me to join?"

Roman nodded. "Who else would I fight?"

"I also imagine you will annoy me about this subject until I acquiesce, or the snow melts?"

Roman nodded again.

"What's in it for me?"

Roman furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Well...maybe, after the fight, we can curl up next to each other on the couch in our blankets, hot chocolate in hand, and we can watch Doctor Who or whatever while we snuggle."

Logan bit his lip.

"You know you want to."

Logan rolled their eyes. "I most certainly do not."

Roman grinned at him cheekily. "Bullshit," he said sweetly, "now come with me."

He took the book from Logan's hands and set it on the table. He grabbed a receipt from nearby and put it on the open pages, before slamming the novel shut and pulling his boyfriend to his feet.

Logan made a noise of surprise as he was dragged to the door by his boyfriend.

"Roman, wait!" Logan exclaimed, putting a hand on Roman's arm. "Let me get my gloves and hat on first."

Logan, who was already in a blue patterned sweater and dark purple scarf, dashed to his and Roman's room. He opened his closet and picked out his navy blue beanie and red gloves. He put them on quickly, not wanting to have to deal with Roman's manhandling once again.

He raced back to Roman who was waiting for him at the door impatiently. When he saw Logan, his expression brightened to one of adoration.

"Oh my gosh, mi querido, you look adorable!"

Logan huffed. "I am not adorable."

Roman laughed. "Yes, you are."

Logan knew that arguing was hopeless.

They took the accusation to heart for a moment. "What if the neighbors see our fight and it ruins my reputation and they never take me seriously again?"

"One, they will be too far away from us to recognize you. Two, they won't care. Three, I'm going to be annoying you for the next two months about a snowball fight so if you refuse, they'll judge you for choosing someone as loud and annoying as myself as your boyfriend."

Logan nodded. "Fair enough."

The two exited their house. Logan put his arms around his torso and shivered, the sudden change in temperature shocking his body, but Roman ran ahead. He immediately crouched down to the ground and formed a snowball, aiming directly for Logan’s stomach, and missing by a couple of feet. Logan gave him a disappointed look.

Roman huffed and returned to building a snowball. Logan shivered again, watching the small flecks of white flutter down from the clouds above and land on their suburban neighborhood. Logan was removed from their thoughts when a snowball collided with his stomach.

He stumbled back half a step, but steadied his stance and glared at his boyfriend. Another snowball was thrown his way, but Logan dodged and watched it disperse against the door.

“You might want to join me in the yard, Specs, if you don’t want me to break a window.”

Logan followed his suggestion, running to the front yard and immediately forming a snowball. They threw it at their unsuspecting boyfriend who was in the process of making another snowball. It hit him square in the chest, making him fall backwards.

“Oh, you’re in for it, mi luz.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’ve hit me twice, I’ve hit you once. I’m hardly the-”

A snowball to the lungs effectively shut them up.

---

Roman and Logan were hiding behind their respective walls of snow. Throughout the fight, they had been creating their own walls to hide behind to avoid getting hit. The fight would continue until either surrender or unconsciousness occurred, and both knew the former would be the hardest to achieve.

Since the two were both overachievers and never half-assed anything, their respective snow walls were two and a half feet high, roughly four inches in thickness, and approximately two feet wide. Roman had drawn an ‘R’ into his for dramatic effect, and Logan had hit the ‘R’ purposely with a snowball twice.

Neither knew how much time had passed, nor could they sense just how cold they were. All they could think about was demolishing their beloved in a violent war of snow, where only one could be crowned victor.

They were so unfocused that they didn’t notice a door opening and closing. Their eyes were so zeroed in on each other that Logan couldn’t see anything but his weapon and his target.

Logan knew the second the snowball left his hands that he would not land the shot. They were off by at least a couple of feet. They paid it no mind, however, and focused on evading Roman’s next attack.

The snowball landed with an audible smack.

That was unusual; dodged snowballs normally landed soundlessly on the ground.

What was also unusual was the yelp accompanying the sound.

Two shocked heads turned and watched as an unfamiliar man was thrown off his balance from Logan’s ruthlessly packed snowball. He didn’t fall to the ground, no, he was too scary and intimidating for that kind of humiliation to ever befall him. But, he was inconvenienced just enough so that Roman and Logan were terrified for their lives.

Logan hadn’t hit any old neighbor that lived on their block. He had hit the man who lived to their right.

The man who was evil, scary, probably a serial killer; the person that even the adults were scared of. He overdid Halloween, had no friends, and worked at a psychiatric hospital. He could probably kill them if he wanted to. According to the rumors, he had killed for lesser motives.

His eyes locked with both of the men at once, and Logan and Roman had never been more scared in their time together. He was terrifying.

With a black shirt, black jeans, black and purple hair, and a black hoodie, the man next door with tattoos creeping up his neck and black eyeshadow under his eyes looked very much the part the rest of the street had cast him as.

Logan and Roman were truly and undeniably fucked.

When the neighbor stopped glaring at them and walked to his car, Logan and Roman simultaneously craned their necks back to face each other, a terrified look in both of their eyes. Suddenly, all their competitive fire was extinguished and they looked at the snow on the ground with fear and regret instead of devious fun.

Their neighbor got something from his car and returned inside, casting sideways glances at Roman and Logan as he passed them. He slammed his door shut, causing both men to flinch.

From day one, the couple had been warned by kindergarteners and middle-aged women alike that they were unfortunate to be neighbors with the man next door. It was today that this was proven. All they could do was wait for their demise.

Roman threw a snowball at Logan’s face in anger at his actions and bad aim. For the first time in this fight, he wished he had been hit by that snowball.

There was a four minute period where the two were internally debating their options of either going back inside or apologizing to their fearsome neighbor. Occasionally, they would make eye contact with each other, but no words were actually spoken. Roman, the extrovert, considered knocking on his door to make a quick and hasty apology while Logan, the introvert, thought about writing an apology letter and sliding it under his door.

Neither of their ideas needed to be put to action, however, since the neighbor exited his house once again.

The two resisted the overwhelming urge to cower in fear. They had never seen him before, and now they had seen him twice in less than ten minutes? Clearly, they had ticked him off.

In an effort to not make it look as though they were staring, Logan and Roman stuck their gazes on each other. Each could tell that their partner was resisting their instincts telling them to run as far away as they could as fast as possible. But they couldn’t be rude—not when that man lived right next to them and could approach their house at any time. The serial killer rumors suddenly seemed more plausible.

What greeted them (or rather, Logan) instead, was a snowball to the back.

Logan, who was tenser than a taut rope, stumbled from the harsh impact. When he was able to regain his stance, his head whipped around to look at his attacker.

The neighbor had on, of all things, a smile.

He had discarded his hoodie for a fluffy black sweater with purple bats on it. He was now in a black beanie and had on midnight blue gloves. While his winter attire was surprising considering he already had a hoodie and didn’t seem to leave his house much, the mischievous smile was the most perplexing of all new things about their neighbor. Neither Logan nor Roman could make sense of it, except that it let them see the infamously creepy stranger in a new light.

Logan huffed out a bemused laugh, staring at the neighbor (who looked to be similar in age to them) like he was a gripping plot twist in a novel that unexpectedly ended happily. He shook his head a bit, but crouched down and formed another snowball. He made sure not to throw it as hard as the first one he had thrown at the stranger.

The man dodged it with ease, running closer to the snow-covered couple’s house. He swiped some snow off the porch rail and quickly packed it before throwing it at Roman, who was too busy being bewildered to do anything to dodge. He gasped in offense and coughed when the snowball collided with his sternum, and directed a playful glare at his attacker. He threw a snowball at him in return.

The neighbor easily dodged that one, but wasn’t able to dodge the snowball Logan had thrown his way. His attention switched over to the bespectacled assailant, looking at them just in time to see him throw another snowball at his boyfriend.

“How the hell did you make a snowball that quickly, cariño?”

“I have a snow wall, Ro. What do you think I put behind it? Action figures?” Logan retorted sarcastically.

Roman rolled his eyes and formed another snowball, sending it through the air and smack into Logan’s wall. “Every man for himself!”

The neighbor laughed at that, and the snowball fight continued.

---

As it turned out, Logan and Roman were at a disadvantage from already being out in the snow before their neighbor joined in. He was able to make them both surrender eventually, but not before Roman had aimed a snowball at a precise place on the back of his neck where the snow fell down the back of his shirt.

Logan was the wiser out of the couple and had surrendered first (not without a fight, though). He figured he deserved it; he had been the one to disturb the stranger, after all. This made him able to watch as both Roman and the stranger started to shiver more and more as the fight had continued.

When Roman finally did surrender, Logan laughed in his face and then put an arm around him. Logan took one hand in his and was able to tell his fingers were numb.

“You just never know when to quit, do you?” they sighed fondly.

“I did eventually!” protested Roman indignantly.

The stranger chuckled from beside him. “Would’ve been easier for your poor body if you’d surrendered when you knew you were gonna lose.”

It was the first time they’d heard him speak; snowball fights weren’t exactly the best place to start a conversation. His voice was low, about as deep as expected from a scary man in all black. However, it didn’t hold any fearful qualities or scratchiness like the kids had described. The couple thought it sounded like coffee on a cool winter’s morning (which didn’t make sense since coffee wasn’t a sound, but it was all that they could use to describe it, nonetheless).

“And when would that have been?”

“The second I joined in.”

Logan hid a laugh behind their hand. Roman glared at him for encouraging their neighbor.

“No idiot surrenders the second another person joins,” Roman muttered.

“Exactly,” the man said with a wink. Logan was able to spot him curling his arms around himself, probably from being cold.

Roman gasped loudly when he finally realized what the stranger was saying. “How dare you!”

He stumbled out of Logan’s arms and collected more snow off the porch railing, making it into a large, messy ball and chucking it at the stranger.

It hit his face. Not hard in any shape or form; no harm would be done, but it was still a bunch of cold water shoved in his face and falling into the front of his sweater.

The stranger furiously batted at the snow on his face.

“Serves you right,” Roman mumbled.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sorry, that must’ve been freezing.”

The man nodded.

“Come on in,” Logan invited, opening the door. “We can make you some hot chocolate.”

Roman rushed inside, running to the storage closet that had extra blankets.

“A-are you s-su-re?” the stranger said, syllables separate and repetitive from his shivering. The snow in his face caused his teeth to chatter.

“Of course,” Logan said, “it’s our—well, mostly my fault, that you got cold anyway. I’m Logan. He/they pronouns.”

Virgil chuckled. “L-log-an, h-uh? Was st-st-starting to thi-nk y-you were j-just gi-v-ven a b-bunch of p-pet names at b-birth.”

Logan blushed furiously, but laughed. Roman referred to him with Spanish terms of endearment more than he did his legal name.

“At this point, I might as well have been. I tend to respond to any unfamiliar word that vaguely sounds like Spanish now.”

They ushered the freezing stranger inside. Roman had returned from the storage closet with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and another under his arm. Logan took the blanket that wasn’t shrouding his shivering boyfriend and wrapped it around the stranger’s shoulders, who tugged it tighter around himself eagerly.

Logan went to the kitchen, putting three mugs of milk into the microwave and setting it for two minutes. They then returned to Roman and their neighbor who were shivering in silence.

“Thanks for joining us,” Roman said, “that was fun.”

“It was,” he agreed, shivering starting to calm down. “T-thank you for letting me p-participate.” Not fully, however.

“Of course,” said Logan, putting an arm on Roman’s shoulders. “I totally meant that snowball as an invitation. Fully intentional.”

The other two laughed, knowing that was a lie. The microwave beeped, and Logan left them to take the mugs from the microwave. He put the hot cocoa powder in and stirred the mugs, before picking them up.

He entered the living room to see that Roman had sat on the left of the couch and the stranger in the middle. Logan put their mugs in front of them and put down a mug for themself. He sat down next to the stranger.

“Might I ask your name, oh Master of the Snowball?” Roman asked.

The stranger snorted. “That’s much better than my name. My name’s Virgil. He/him.”

Logan smiled to himself. “Not at all, that’s a very nice name.”

Virgil choked on the hot chocolate he was sipping. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Fits your aesthetic,” Roman remarked.

Virgil opened his mouth, looking offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

It was obviously a joke, but Logan and Roman knew they had to tell Virgil of the rumors and his reputation. Especially now that they saw him as a good guy.

“Halloween,” Roman started to list, “everyday-is-spooky-season aesthetic, seems like the type of guy to work at a haunted house.”

Virgil scoffed. “Those places are stupid; not scary at all. If you want to go to a haunted house, make your house the haunted house.”

Well, now they had the Virgil-goes-to-a-haunted-house-weekly theory debunked.

“You do have ghosts on your sweater,” Logan supplied, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

“They’re cute ghosts, though,” Roman said as soon as Virgil opened his mouth to argue. He pointed at one on his sweater. “See? Look at the lil’ faces.”

“My sister got it for me for Christmas.”

“If I knew your sister, that would probably explain the cute faces.”

“Oh, believe me, it would.”

Logan chuckled as he watched the two exchange conversation. He took another sip of his hot chocolate.

“So, um, I heard moving trucks outside your house about a month ago. Was that y’all? You new here?” asked Virgil.

“Affirmative,” Logan confirmed.

“Yeah, it’s our very first house together!” Roman said happily.

Virgil smiled. “That’s sickeningly adorable.”

“I am sickeningly adorable,” Roman said like it was a badge of honor.

“I agree,” Logan said.

A comfortable silence befell the group.

Virgil fidgeted, looking at Roman nervously. “Bit awkward question this far into the conversation, but I never caught your name-”

“Roman~” sang the man in question. He would have held the note out for an impressively long time if he didn’t take a sip of hot cocoa.

“Cool,” said Virgil awkwardly. “And I suppose, Roman and Logan, oh wow y’all’s names rhyme that is so romantic, anyway-”

Roman gasped, covering his mouth. His eyes lit up. “They do!”

“Are you just noticing this, Roman?” asked Logan.

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed in reply. “If I knew our names rhymed, I would have already written many a rhyming poem about our love.”

“That’s very nice, Love.”

“Don’t be snippy, mi cielo, you know you’d love it,” Roman huffed. “Virgil, don’t you think he’d love it?”

Virgil just rolled his eyes fondly, not wanting to get caught up in the middle of a lover’s spat.

“Don’t bring Virgil into this, Roman. You should put the subject aside, considering he was in the middle of saying something before you interrupted.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did our neighbors happen to...um...tell you what they thought of me? Ruin first impressions? It would explain your terrified expressions when we first saw each other.”

Roman and Logan looked at each other worriedly.

“...Maybe?” Roman asked quietly.

“There’s a small possibility...” Logan whispered.

“Y’all, I’m not mad if it happened, I just wanna know.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, yes they did.”

“What’d they say?”

“Multiple people said different things,” Logan began. “Janet talked to us first. She’s the blonde, short-haired, blue-eyed-”

“-Used to be a soccer mom, baby blue house?” Virgil asked. Logan nodded. “Met her when I first moved in, and once after that.”

“Her, yes. She told us, quite frankly, to not come near you.”

Virgil started to close in on himself. “Like how?”

“Said you were creepy, rude, introverted, no friends, freaky-as-all-hell Halloween decorations, apparently knew where you worked,” Roman told him, then noticed Virgil’s shrinking and stopped with the accusations. “I doubt almost all of that now, since you’re obviously not creepy and definitely have friends with that personality, but she may have been accurate with Halloween decor.”

“She was,” Virgil confirmed. “Go big or go home.”

“I believe you are normally home during Halloween, are you not?” asked Logan, confused.

Roman laughed. “Of course, mi amor.”

“Where do I work, in Janet terms?” asked Virgil, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Some old psychiatric hospital out of town.”

Virgil doubled over in laughter. He put his mug on the coffee table so it wouldn’t spill and held his head in his hands.

When he regained himself, still giggling, he replied.

“That’s inaccurate,” Virgil said plainly. “I don’t have a degree for that. See, there’s an old abandoned psychiatric hospital two miles away from the airport that is on the same road as the airport. It’s out of use, so that’s a stupid assumption to make. I guess I could maybe see why she made it though; I work at the airport.”

“Oh?” asked Logan, intrigued.

“Yeah, I’m an air traffic controller,” said Virgil with a shrug. “It ain’t that interesting. I recently got fully certified, though, which is cool. It pays well, I’m good at paying constant attention to things that could potentially end badly, and the high-stress comes from having to give my unwavering and full attention, which is something I can do well.”

“Less stressful than home and college, I guess, huh?” Roman guessed.

“Exactly, it's a spa compared to my parents,” Virgil said with a laugh. “But yeah, that’s hysterical. I definitely do not work at a psychiatric hospital.”

“I suppose what the kids said is untrue if what the adults said is false,” Logan mused.

“Oh dear lord, what did they say,” Virgil groaned.

“One girl told us about the rumor that you killed the people who used to live here,” Roman said, and Virgil immediately laughed. “Her mother said she asked for a cup of sugar and you gave her a cup of salt instead.”

“I hadn’t slept in five days and realized my mistake two hours later,” Virgil explained immediately. “I remember that one.”

Logan snorted. “One boy said you go to the haunted house on Fridays, which is obviously untrue.”

“Yeah. One, they’re stupid, two, that one’s only open in October and November, three, that one ain’t even scary. It has a good and free parking lot, though, and I volunteer at an at-risk youth center every Friday a couple blocks down that has really shitty parking.”

Roman shook his head. “Wow, we really got you wrong.”

“You were misled,” Virgil corrected. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know what, you’re right!” Roman agreed. “We were robbed.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of friendship,” Logan said, taking a sip from his drink. “Roman would have been banging on your door two days after moving, wanting to get to know you. But, after a momentous amount of ‘rude’ and ‘disagreeable’—” Virgil frowned, “—he was persuaded not to. Our loss, especially considering you are neither of those two adjectives.”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you.”

Logan looked into Virgil’s chestnut brown eyes, and was able to spot the specks of gray in them. They gave Virgil a warm smile. “For what? It is our pleasure to be given the chance to know you.”

Roman groaned. “I try 24/7 to be dramatic and you do it without trying.”

Virgil, blushing, giggled. “You’re both good at it.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m thrilled you think so, Nico di Angel-o.”

“Nico’s surname can be interpreted to mean ‘of the angels’ already, Roman, I don’t think you need to emphas-”

“Shhhh, Specs, let me shower our guest with compliments.”

Virgil’s face was on fire. “Do y’all have any movies?”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @fander-fic-recs @neo-neo-neo

~

I wrote most of that when I went into a blur for three hours and looked at the time after I finished the draft to see that I had wasted all the time I had to do homework. It was worth it. I don’t know why but I’m really attached to this AU? If you want to see more of it please tell me. I hope you liked it!

#analogince #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roast me if there's a typo #ts fanfic #analogical #prinxiety #fic #swearing tw #kill writes