#she awakes the next morning to no response. an empty house. she finds a red shirt of hers missing & a note

[theneondemonx]

MY TYPE | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.

▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au

▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 2192

▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick

A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.

How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.

And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.

But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.

You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.

You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.

Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.

“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.

Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.

“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re disgusting.”

And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.

As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.

“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.

“Unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.

“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”

“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”

Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.

Seriously? You are that full of yourself?

“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.

“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.

He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”

No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.

“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”

You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.

“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”

Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.

He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.

“I recognized the skirt, you know?”

You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.

“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.

He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.

You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.

“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You want me to stop, Y/N?”

His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.

“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.

You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.

“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”

His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.

Fuck he’s big.

He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.

“Tastes good?”

“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.

Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.

“Fuck I’m close.”

Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.

However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.

You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.

“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”

His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.

“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”

You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.

“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”

He groaned, thrusting harder in you.

“You are so fucking hot.”

The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.

You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.

When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.

“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”

He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”

“Jerkass.”

“Nerd.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jk #jjk #jungkook oneshot #jungkook college au #jungkook fuckboy #smut #college au #yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts college au #fanfic #oneshot #bts x reader #bts

[closhelby]

On and off - Thomas Shelby smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: swearing & smut

Word count: 2.1K

AN: please give any feedback on smut and what you want to see next? Tried a different writing style...

-

he seemed to be the ex that you couldn’t get over. You couldn’t escape him as hard as you tried, so why were you surprised when he showed up on your doorstep, soaked from the lashing rain that was falling outside at two am.

“You said we were over,” you muttered as you rubbed your sleepy eyes. You were actually awake, feeling sorry for yourself because of how different you wanted your life to be. Somehow you still wanted your relationship to work, despite how much he continued to push you away. You were too good for him, too proper for him, and most of all, you were too nice for him.

These were just assumptions. No one had rarely seen you get wound up, never seen you break or pushed you to that point, because no one needed to. But it was certainly brewing.

“I just wanted to see you,” he slurred.

You sighed, “Ex’s shouldn’t want to see each other though Tommy.”

He pushed the door open slightly, suggesting he came in, and you let him. Gave in to him again. I mean, how couldn’t you?

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Tommy, if you’ve came here to say the same thing I’ve already heard, then politely fuck off,” you were starting to get annoyed at the assumption you were too nice, because you weren’t. You just gave off that impression. You gave everyone their first chance, as you believed they should, but depending on that, you would give your side. You were caring, but wouldn’t dare to be crossed.

“I’ll always love you, bu-“

“But, I’m too nice. I couldn’t deal mentally with what you do. How you make your money. Well Tommy, you’ve got me very wrong. But that’s your choice, now please” You spoke quickly, “get out of my fucking house.”

You could see the defeat in his face. He meant well, but he was pushing it and you were coming close to breaking point at being nice anymore. He left quickly after that, muttered a bye then disappeared in the horrific night.

The next morning you were awoken with loud bangs coming from your front door. Sighing as you walked towards it, “Tommy, how many times have i to te- oh hi Ada.”

Ada pushed her and baby Karl straight past you, “get ready. It’s happening today, and I’ve got a point to make.”

“Bloody hell Ada. Some context.”

“Billy Kimber.”

“Funeral attire by the looks of it then.” You snorted, and Ada laughed, “yes, the point we are making.” following her into the bedroom.

“Understood,” you agreed, then making an effort to dress solely in black, just exactly how you would if it was their funeral. You and Ada had in fact been friends for a while, you were in Johns year at school and had gotten close to him therefor you were always at the Shelby household. No one expected that yourself and Mr Thomas Shelby would ever become anything, but circumstances change before the war. He promised the world to you in his letters. Always telling you that you both would be married and have children on his return, but deep down you knew that the war changed that outcome and his outlook on life in general.

You had barely gotten time to think before Ada had you storming up the road, in the distance up the empty street you could see a group of men. You and Ada split off as you reached them, both pushing through the men who you assumed were Billy Kimber’s.

“Ada,” Freddie seethed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you woman doing,” Tommy shouted.

Ada continued to scream, rambling on about people having family’s at home. How they are all worried, and would be attending their funeral. But of course, Billy likes to mock, and made a fly away comment. You were stood at an angle to Billy’s men, so the gun that was in your hand was out of their sight, slightly tucked under your skirt.

Danny Wizz-bang had already lunged towards Billy on the back of his comment. Billy’s men shooting him dead, dropping to the ground instantly. Guns were now raised on both ends, Ada shouting for them to lower them, while Billy moved forward shooting into Tommy’s direction, managing to shoot him in the left shoulder.

Your eyes shot red, without the slightest hesitation, lifted the gun from your stockings, turning and shooting him straight in the head. You got there before anyone else did. The silence was loud as Tommy’s men couldn’t quite get their head around you, the nicest woman they had met, you had just shot someone dead without hesitation.

Billy’s men instantly raised their weapons in your direction, but didn’t shoot, “Tommy and Billy fought fairly. He didn’t win, end of story. Now fuck off” you ordered, turning and marching through the peaky lot before disappearing into the Shelby household.

Not even a few minutes later, the group followed and pulled in a wounded tommy. You didn’t even bat an eyelid, used to this shit, it was his shoulder. He would survive. But it still wasn’t nice seeing him in pain.

You sat in silence, while Jeremiah Jesus worked on trying to get the bullet out of Tommy’s pierced skin, downing whiskey after whiskey. No one seemed to talk to you, instead looked at you with worry. Their outlook on you had changed within the space of 20 minutes.

Tommy was now up, the bullet was now out of his skin and we were then all pushed into the room where Danny Wizz-bang’s body lay before us. You had rarely seen a dead body, infact everyone seemed to shield you from the violence but not today. You stood to the right of Tommy, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. He kept giving you an eye, full of concern, unsure how you were going to act.

You zoned out when Tommy spoke, you had never really spoke to Danny before. So this wasn’t much of a deal to you personally, you were awakened from your thoughts when Tommy was shoving a bottle infront if you, “Danny Wizz-bang,” you spoke, raising the bottle then downing a bit before passing it on to John for him to do the same. It went round the group that surrounded the table, before it got back to Tommy.

The place was lively, full of people drinking, and talking of heading to the Garrison. You couldn’t be arsed, sick of the sight of Tommy looking over at you constantly.

“Why do you keep looking at me?,” you spat. Having enough of him.

“You just killed an enemy of mine without even blinking an eyelid.”

“You all seem to think I’m so nice, eh. Not the right woman for Tommy, eh. Well I’m done being fucking nice.” The pause was loud, as you walked to the door, “and may I add, that did not bother me in the slightest. You all have just shielded me so much you didn’t know how much I could handle.” Slamming the door behind you, turning up to go back to your house.

“You’ve got to give her a chance Tommy. She’s tougher than you think.” Ada advised her older brother. Tommy nodding in response, knowing he was starting to realise what he really had.

You were in your house not only five minutes before he burst the door open, finding you sipping a whiskey on your couch, “I’m not going to keep doing this tommy. This is the second time in two months.”

He had done this before, and like you, couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t bare to walk past you in the street, perhaps you being with another man. It would tip him over the edge that he was already so very close to.

“We’re not going to keep doing it. I’ll give credit where it’s due.” He started to come closer to you, taking your hands in his, pulling you up to him, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He took your hand placing it at the back of his neck, twisting his hair in between your fingers. You pulled him into you, pressing a kiss onto his lips. He pulled you in closer, hands holding your waist.

“I love you Tommy. When will you fucking realise that.” You whispered to him, your forehead touching his. He smiled, “I love you.”

He pulled your face into his, his fingers intertwined in your h/c hair. Their tongues intertwined with each other’s, as the kiss deepened. You started to unbuckle his trousers, dropping them revealing his already hard length. You pulled back from the kiss and dropped to your knees, not breaking eye contact as you took his erected length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a soft moan, carfullly moving your hair out of your face. You started to suck on it, bobbing your head up and down, satisfying him, as he threw his head back in pleasure.

He couldn’t wait any longer, he just longed to fuck you hard. He pulled you off your knees, taking your hand into his as he pulled you into the bedroom, pushing you back on the bed as he lifted up your dress over your head. He traced his fingers over your thigh, placing soft kisses as he went reaching your pussy he pulled down your black lace thongs off, you flicked them off your legs. He placed two fingers in between your slit, running up and down slowly, “wet eh?” Pushing his finger into you, slowly going in and out,

“Tommy.” You breathed. He smiled before pushing a second finger and going a more steady pace, pulling them out and sticking his thick shaft into you, thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. You started to arch your back, gripping at his hands, and he started to increase his pace, beginning to thrust at a rapid pace.

You pulled back, and pushed him back onto the bed, sitting on top of his erect penis, slowly bouncing on the tip, every few bounces pushing it all the way in. He threw his head back, mouth just ever so slightly open, “y/n” he stuttered.

You instantly started to ride him, his body almost non existent, starting to twitch at how close he was becoming. “Make me cum,” he edged you on, “please.”

You give him a smirk, before increasing the pace, he gripped your thighs, rocking you as you took the lead. Bouncing on his cock, was making you very close, bouncing as you both came to the high, falling into his bare chest, both of you breathing heavily attempting to recover from the love that you both had made.

-

Following the weeks of the murder of Billy Kimber, you noticed a drastic change in how people treated you. People would always still mutter a hello, however would step out of your way, and you were close to being feared just about as much as Tommy himself.

You were walking Into the shop, placing your coat down as you went to make a cup of tea before starting the day. You noticed Polly staring at you, “what are you looking at pol?” You laughed slightly, turning to face her, cup of tea in hand.

“Come here,” she motioned towards you, cupping your left boob into her hand. You furrowed your brows, wondering what the fuck she was doing, “your pregnant. It’s a boy.”

You were in total disbelief, you stumbled back into a chair closest to you, “fuck sake.”

“Tommy’s?” She asked, and you gave her a look of disgust, “yes obviously it’s Tommy’s.”

“For fuck sake”, you moaned, just as Tommy himself walked into the shop. Placing a kiss on your cheek as he walked past into his office, you rolled your eyes at pol who raised her eyes brows in response. Sighing following him into the office, “morning.”

You sighed, “got something to tell ya.” He placed the bit of paper that was in his hands down, turning his full attention onto you. “eh, I’m pregnant”

His eyes went wide, “are ye really?” He smiled, quickly getting up and making his way over to you, taking your hands into his.

“Boy.” You could barely string a sentence together, you knew he would be happy but with how rocky everything was recently you were slightly unsure.

“Boy eh? Someone coming for my crown.” He repeated, “this is great news, now go home. No woman of mine will be working here while carrying my child”, he ordered.

He placed a kiss onto your lips, soft, sweet, “I love you so much, you have no idea,” he muttered to you.

“I love you too, and baby boy,”

“And baby boy,” he repeated, a wide smile spread across his face.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut

[jeonghanscheekboness]

@xxriotgrrrlb0yxx I actually did try to write it but it was so bad that I scrapped it from my original braddavid story. It was meant to be revealed later that this wasn’t David’s first time covering a possible murder, so he actually knew exactly what to do. Enjoy, I guess.

David knew two things. It was the middle of the night, and his phone was ringing. He forced his eyes open, rolling over towards his bedside table and propping himself up on his elbow. He grabbed his phone and pressed 'answer' to stop the ringing, "Hello?" He rasped.

"Hey."

Then David was wide-ass awake. He recognized the voice immediately, "Brad? Oh my god, it's.." he paused to look at the digital clock next to him, "2:17 in the morning. What's going on?" He tried to set aside how happy he was that Brad actually reached out to him.

"David..can you come over?" Brad was slurring his words a bit and the probability that he was drunk crossed David's mind.

"Uhh, well it's-"

"David, I need you to come over," he followed up, clearer this time.

David sat up fully, "Brad, I'd be happy to come by at a more reasonable time but it's the middle of the night and we have work so-"

"Please," and his voice was so small and weak that David's heart broke, "Please come now, David."

Then he realized this wasn't just a weirdly timed booty call, it was serious. Brad was in trouble and needed help,  "I'll be right there. See you soon," he threw the covers off the bed and jumped up, his old joints protesting the movement.

"Ok." Then Brad hung up.

Once David had thrown on the first pair of clothes he could find, he left to go to Brad's house, thankful that it was only a 15 minute drive. He rubbed his eyes, worried that he'd somehow fall asleep at the wheel even though he was definitely wide awake because he was so worried about Brad.

He pulled up in front of the house, surprised to see another car in the driveway, then Jo got out out of it. He approached her and the two walked toward the front door, "What are you doing here?"

"Brad called me and said it was an emergency."

David knocked on the front door, and almost immediately, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the message.

Brad: come in

Sighing, David shoves his phone back into his pocket and opens the front door. Immediately, the foyer was dark, not a sign of anyone, "Brad?" He called out, slightly hushed. There was no response.

The two of them stopped further inside, the wood creaking under their feet. David's heart hammered in his chest. Something was seriously wrong.

"Brad?!" Jo called, louder. Her voice cut through the empty room and startled David a little.

"In here," a voice replied, devoid of any emotion or cantor.

Jo stepped in front, leading the way towards the living room and stopping at the doorway. David watched, only moonlight barely casting her shadow. Her shoulders slumped, "Brad.." she sighed, motioning for David to follow.

He did, and then he saw it.

A small lamp in the corner made enough light to see what was going on. Brad sat on the couch, he'd clearly discarded his sweater, in only a white button up that was stained with red all over the sleeves. His hands were shiny with it, too. He looked up, staring at the wall behind them, like a deer in headlights.

David couldn't tear his eyes away. The overwhelming sense of Deja Vu made him almost feel like he was in a movie, or a dream, but it was definitely real, and that was definitely Brad. His Brad. In this dark room, in the middle of the night, covered in blood. This is real.

"Brad.. What did you do?" Jo asked slowly, an unfamiliar shudder of fear in her voice that David had never heard before.

"He's made me miserable my whole life."

"Wait.."

"I can't even remember a time when he wasn't trying to ruin my life," the emotionless tone cracked and the hurt was peaking though, "He abused me physically, emotionally," Brad held his knees, his fingernails digging into the fabric of his pants, "He hurt me in ways you couldn't even imagine."

A beat of silence passed and someone let out a breath.

Brad looked Jo in the eyes, "He's never gonna hurt me again."

Jo looked at David, then back at Brad, "What. Did You. Do?" Her lips drew into a tight frown.

"I don't know what to do." He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook his head, "We..were on his boat..and he had too much to drink..and it just-" he cut himself off, clearing his throat.

Then the room fell into a deadly silence and Brad hid his face in his blood-stained hands, tugging at fistfuls of damp hair.

David's heart was practically beating out of his chest, threatening to crawl it's way up his throat along with his dinner. They were out of their depths here and even psychopathic Jo was at a loss for words. Someone had to take charge of the situation, and for once, that could actually be him.

He began pacing across the room, "Ok, here's what we're gonna do. Brad, for legal reasons, do not tell us any more than you have to. I'm going to ask you questions, answer with as few words as possible. I'm sorry to tell you this, but if things go south, we can't be dragged in as accomplices."

He slowly looked up at David, "Ok."

"Did you take his phone when you left the crime scene and if so what did you do with it?"

"I took out the gps tracker, disabled it, and scratched off the serial number."

"Good boy. Can the body be found easily?"

"No, and don't call me good boy."

"Sorry. Is there a noticeable crime scene?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

Sighing, David felt an ounce of relief knowing the job was done in a clean way, even though Brad was covered in blood. He'd ask about that later. He stopped pacing, "Where's the master bathroom?"

"Down the hall, why?"

Before Brad could even finish his sentence, David left the room, running into what was apparently Brad's bedroom, which was a complete disaster but he didn't have time to think about that right now. He went into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet, rifling through it's contents, "Tylenol, no..Xanax? No..Aha!" He found what he was looking for, and ran back into the living room.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, Brad, but it's a good thing you're bulimic," he said, holding up the bottle he'd taken from the bathroom, "Jo," he said, walking up to her and handing her the bottle, "Listen very carefully. Go to MQ, get the bottle of coffee creamer from the fridge, make sure there's about one quarter of a bottle left, pour some out if you have to. Put ONE," he held up one finger, "Capful of this stuff into it and shake it up. Put in back exactly where you found it, and get out of there. Come right back. Do not screw this up. Understand?"

Jo nodded, "Yes sir," and swiftly left.

David heard the front door shut, and then the two of them were just standing there in the dark. He checked his watch. 2:45. He looked at Brad, who'd plopped himself back down on the couch, apparently regressing back into his catatonic stage from before.

"Alright, come on, we have to get rid of your bloody clothes. It's evidence," he snapped his fingers for Brad to get moving, flicking the light switch so he could actually see. But then he wished he didn't. Brad looked awful, like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His face was pale, cheekbones more sunken then usual. He looked as dead on the outside as he seemed inside, David's heart broke for him, "Brad?"

Brad shook his head, "It's not his."

"What? Did you kill someone else?!" He whisper-yelled.

"No! It's-" he sighed and looked at David, hurt and exhaustion on his face, "Don't worry about it," he stood up walking towards his bedroom, waiting for David to follow, "What are you gonna do with the clothes?"

"Burn them. Just to be safe."

"In the fireplace?"

"No, the volcano in the back yard. Yes, the fireplace, Brad!"

"Please don't yell at me! I just watched my brother die,” Brad's voice cracked, and he abruptly stopped walking.

David didn't stop in time and bumped into him, taken aback by the man's sudden vulnerability, "I'm sorry," he whispered, clearing his throat, "It's just- y'know- this whole thing-"

"That's very sweet of you, Brad," David put a hand over his, "But now the blood is on my shirt and I have to burn it too."

Brad signed, taking a few steps away, "I said it's not Zack's blood."

"Then who's is it?! Is it yours?"

"Yes!" He blurted out, turning back around to see the confused expression behind that mustache. He let out a grumble of something unintelligible and started hiking up his shirt sleeves, "You don't- need to worry- about it being evidence, because it's my blood."

#mythic quest brad #brad bakshi #brad from monetization #mythic quest edit #just my braddavid headcanons #braddavid #zack bakshi

[quicksilverrwrites]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

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[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”

#neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom #neville x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Reader X Loki] Chapter 3

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 3: Nighttime pancakes

The next few days you got to know everything a little better: The tower, the Avengers - as far as they were present and showed themselves - and the rest of the staff that you ran into from time to time. You also discovered that the tower had its own training halls. Actually this was just logical given the team that lives here. Often when you were out and about in the building, you got the faint feeling of being watched. It was a little disturbing, but you dismissed it by saying that the environment was still new to you. Also, you had learned that JARVIS had access to all the public rooms and most of them were probably video monitored too. You weren’t sure about your own quarters yet, but you were also not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Unfortunately the nights are very long, because you sleep very badly here. Despite the short time, you miss walking outside, through the streets, and besides, you are used to a rather strict daily routine. Sure, it's nice to switch off for a few days and not have to do anything. A little vacation, so to speak. But you're someone who soon gets bored with that. You chose a profession that requires you to spend hours running around the kitchen, preparing dishes and finishing orders for a reason after all. The price of your now lazy life is that you toss and turn in your bed at night without really being tired. Maybe there are some additional worries that keep you awake. For example, the Hydra question that was still unresolved.

This night you turn from side to side again, sighing, and at some point take a look at the digital alarm clock. Its digits glowing a light red in the darkness. It's three in the morning. Or night. Depending on how you see it. After a few more unsuccessful tries to sleep, you give up and decide to roam the halls a bit. Just walking around and stretching your legs. Outside, it's quiet. Only the soft whirring of some working machines can be heard. The corridors are discreetly lit, so you have no trouble finding your way, which leads you into the large lobby. It’s actually the first time since your arrival that you find it completely empty. Still, you have the familiar feeling that you are not alone. Jarvis probably never sleeps.

Out of habit, you end up in the kitchen and take a bored look into the fridge. Nothing in there appeals to you, but you're not really hungry either. Not even for a little snack. Still, you feel like cooking. Maybe pancakes. You could eat them for breakfast later. Without thinking too long about it, you get a bowl from the cupboard and tie an apron around yourself, which you have obligatory lying here by now. Flour, milk and eggs are quickly mixed and a few other ingredients are added for flavor. You put some butter in a pan on the stove. When it became liquid, you start to fry the first pancake and gradually got more and more, so that you quickly have a respectable pile together. Quietly, you hum to yourself.

"It's been a long time since anyone has been here at this hour”, you suddenly hear an unfamiliar voice behind you. Surprised, you whirl around, holding a knife that had been lying next to the stove. A dark-haired man in a green shirt is standing by the kitchen island, watching your actions curiously. When he sees the knife, he raises both hands to calm you down. On each of his arms you notice a narrow silver hoop with a red dot flashing. You hadn't heard a door, and you're not sure how long he's been standing there. "What’s your deal? Can’t sleep?", you ask him. "Just like you apparently." You raise an eyebrow and set the knife aside as the pancakes demand your attention. "You're Loki, aren't you?" It's more of a statement than a question, and the man nods. "And you're the archer's sister", he respond, which makes you in turn nod. "I‘m Y/N, pleasure to meet you." "You don't often hear that as a prisoner", he says amused, but still keeps eye on you, waiting for your reaction. "Heard about it. I guess we're sitting in the same boat." "Oh, really?" "Well, I probably won't be tasered right away if I try to leave the building." "Probably?", Loki follows up. "Yeah, I'm not entirely sure about that."

You talk for a while until you hear the elevator ping quietly in the lobby. But you're not paying attention right now, as you're busy scraping the last bit of dough out of the bowl and then turning off the stove. "Would you like some?" you ask Loki, turning to him only to find that he has disappeared. Taken aback, you turn your attention to the room next door, where you hear muffled voices. Then the door opens. "THAT'S what I call a nice welcome," Clint grins, looking at the stack of pancakes. "Brother dear", you greet him equally pleased and surprised at his unexpected appearing. Smiling, you walk up to him and hug him. Along with him, Steve Rogers, whom you've also already seen on the news as Captain America, came in. He seems a little confused at first, but after you fill him in on who you are, he welcomes you as well.

"What are you doing here?" your brother then asks you. "You can see that. I'm making breakfast for you." "No, I mean, what are you doing here?" He specifies the question with a gesture that included all the surroundings as well as the Tower. "Oh..." It's clearly too middle of the night for you to be that precise. In a few words, you explain your situation. Clint has some encouraging words for you, but can understand that you are not enthusiastic. "At least we can get more on each other's nerves again. Why don't you start right now and join us while we eat?", he laugh, putting his arm around your shoulder in a brotherly fashion as he pushes you toward the stove. You have to laugh, too. "You mean while you eat my breakfast." "Exactly." You go get two plates from the cupboard and serve the men each a good stack of pancakes with maple syrup. They thank you and the group of you make yourselves comfortable at the kitchen island. "Where and how do you guys usually eat here?", you ask in the meantime. "We each order our own food. Probably have a flat rate with all the suppliers in the neighborhood," Clint explains. Steves' gaze is on you questioningly. "Don't you want some pancakes, too?" "In the middle of the night? No thanks, I'm not hungry." "Then why did you made them, if you don't mind me asking?" "I knew you'd come and could use something in your stomach", you reply with a serious expression, to which Steve shoots first you and then your brother a scrutinizing look. He’d seen enough weird shit while working with the Avengers to take such a statement quite seriously. And he wonders whether you, unlike Hawkeye, have superpowers. But only until you can no longer stifle the broad grin, because his facial expression is just too funny.

Before you can say anything, though, Clint interjects. "As siblings, we've just developed some sort of telepathic ability." You nod in agreement. "Exactly. That's how I always know when he's going to say something stupid and deserve a head butt." "To be honest, I never heard him talk about you before”, Steve admits. "See”, you wink, "It‘s working out just fine." You laugh, and while they continue to eat, Clint tells you about the mission they just came from.

Afterwards, you put another stack of pancakes on a plate to take it with you back to the lobby. "Hungry now, are you?", your brother asks you, clearly tired after the long journey and at this late hour. Just as the super soldier. "Maybe”, you answer shortly and wish them both a good night. The greeting comes back double and you head into the large lobby with the elevators. "Jarvis?" "Yes, Miss Barton?" "Where is Loki's apartment?", you ask the computer. "You are not exactly authorized to receive this information." "I just want to get him something to eat."

You raise the plate in your hands a little higher and apparently your answer is analyzed, because for a few seconds there is silence. But then you get the information you want and are directed to the door you are looking for. It was on another floor and at the end of a long corridor.

You knock, but at first there is no response. So you try again. "Come on, my prince, I know you're not asleep and it's rude to leave a lady at a locked door." You hear an amused sound from the other side and shortly after the door is opened. With his arms crossed, Loki stands before you. "It's also rude to disturb a prince in the middle of the night, M’Lady", he replies. "Rude would be to refuse a dinner from a lady. Especially when she personally hands it to you", you add, giving him the plate. It's impossible for you to tell if he's amused or annoyed as he looks from you to the pancakes in his hand. "I never said I wanted any“, he states. "But you didn't say you didn't want them, either. Just give them a try. I'm pretty good at cooking." With that, you turn to go. "Good night, dear prince," you wish him, but without turning around. So you miss the grin on Loki's face as he closes the door.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel #pancakes #cooking #Captain America #Steve Rogers #Clint Barton #Clinton Barton #Hawkeye #Family matters #siblings #sibling dynamics

[sequinsmile-x]

hiiii! 24 or 38 for fluff 🥰

Prompt 24: "This reminded me of you."

Prompt from this list - I am still taking them if anyone wants me to write more about these two idiots in love.

This is dedicated to any of you who love Girl Dad Aaron.

Words: 1.7k (it got away from me a little)

Warnings: So fluffy it might rot your teeth

It starts the moment Eliza is born. Emily was laying there, her legs still up in stirrups, her chest bared to a room full of strangers and her husband, as her baby was handed to her for the first time. She held their daughter, Eliza, to her skin with shaking hands and wouldn’t have been able to stop the tears that streamed down her face even if she wanted to.

Emily stares at her, unable to take her eyes off of her daughter. She was bright red and squawking, protesting at the shock of being born. But she was beautiful. She had a shock of dark hair on her head and her fathers frown.

“Hey, baby.” Emily says, cupping the back of her daughter’s head. “Hi.” She tears her eyes away from the baby to look at Aaron, the tears still falling when she takes in the look of pure adoration on his face. “Aaron, look at her.”

That’s when he says it for the first time.

“She’s just like you.”

____________

Aaron semi-retires not long after the birth of their daughter. An attempt to learn from his past with Jack, and recognition that both parents in the home couldn’t be away for days at a time. It’s an argument that lasts almost the first 2 months of Eliza’s life. Which one of them should leave the BAU. Ultimately he wins, and he stays home with the kids whilst Emily continues to work to bring down the worst criminals the FBI dealt with.

Aaron guest lectures at the academy, running a couple of classes a semester. His stories of the BAU fascinating the students. So many case studies he would never run out of material.

He wakes on a Saturday alone in his bed, Emily away on a case that had dragged on a few days longer than she had hoped.

He sighs as he walks downstairs, stroking Sergio’s head as he walks by, briefly popping his head into Jack’s and then Eliza’s bedroom to see they are empty. He follows the sound of Jack playing video games and finds him in the den, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“Morning, Jack.”

“Morning, Dad.”

Aaron smiles when his son doesn’t even look at him. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds good”

“Where’s your sister?”

Jack shrugs, still not looking up from his game. “I don’t know, she was playing with her toys last time I saw her.”

Aaron shakes his head at his son.

He hears giggling before he sees her. He enters the kitchen to see his three year old sitting on the kitchen counter, her hand literally in the cookie jar, as she smiles at him with chocolate all over her face. She was still in her pyjamas. The hair he had neatly braided the night before in disarray.

She was so much like Emily.

“Eliza.” He says, unable to stop himself from smiling at her. Aaron was wrapped around her finger and the whole family knew it. Emily often made fun of him for it, playfully teasing him as she correctly said their daughter could get away with anything. “How did you get up there?”

“Daddy’s silly.” Eliza says as if it answers his question, as she laughs at him in a way that is so Emily it makes his chest bloom with love.

He spots the stool from the kitchen island dragged over to the counter near where she is sitting, and realises she had pulled it over to climb up there. He digs his phone out of his sweatpants and opens the camera.

“Come on, smile for Mommy.” He says, pointing the phone at her.

“Mommy!” Eliza says, delighted, hands, covered in chocolate, reaching out for the camera.

He quickly snaps a photo and sends it to Emily, captioned “This reminded me of you.”

____________

Emily’s phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, smiling when she sees the photo from Aaron. Her heart aches when she sees Eliza, her wide smile as she reaches towards the camera, half a chocolate cookie smashed in her tiny hand.

“You ok, princess?” Derek asks, bringing her attention back to the room. Emily rolls her eyes at him before she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? If you need a break-”

“Derek.” She says, voice firm. “I’m fine. You’re worse than Aaron.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Just because he’s not my boss anymore doesn’t mean I want to explain to him why his wife got sick at work.”

Her glare shuts him up, and he goes back to the point he was trying to make before Aaron’s text had distracted her.

____________

Aaron continues to send her pictures throughout the day. Eliza on top form, mischief flowing off of her at every turn.

She insists on trying to push Jack on the swings when they get to the park, and Jack swings himself gently back and forth, letting his younger sister believe she was doing it.

She gets ice cream all over herself, and ends up running the game she plays with the other toddlers when Jack goes to play soccer with his friends.

Aaron takes photos of all of it, sending Emily all of them.

She calls him that evening, her voice laced with amusement and exhaustion in equal measure.

“Which was your favourite?” He asks as he climbs into bed.

“Oh, definitely the one of her half way through Sergio’s cat flap.” She laughs. “It’s already my new wallpaper on my phone.”

“She’s so much like you, sweetheart.”

“You can’t just send me photos of her misbehaving and say that all the time, honey.”

He has the audacity to laugh down the phone at her, and he knows she will have bitten her lip to prevent her smile even though they can’t see each other.

“But baby, that’s when she is most like you.”

____________

When she gets home it is late, so late it’s almost early, and she sighs as she locks the front door behind her, double checking it is secure before she walks further into the house.

Emily walks upstairs, checking in on Jack as she walks past his room. She pulls his covers up around him a little tighter, presses a kiss to his forehead that he would shy away from if he was awake, just old enough now to find his parents uncool.

She briefly frowns when she pops her head into Eliza’s room and finds her bed empty, momentary panic flooding through her until logic kicks in. A smile on her face when she realises where she will find her little girl.

She gently opens the master bedroom door and her smile widens when she sees Aaron and Eliza in the bed, snuggled together facing where she would usually sleep.

He was such a good dad. She’d always known that, had known it before they were even a couple, but something about watching him with their daughter, the love him and Eliza had for each other, made her ache.

Aaron always told her how much Eliza reminded him of her, but all she saw was him. His stoicism and kindness their daughter embodied. His frown that Eliza had whenever she didn’t get her way.

Eliza was the good bits of both of them, and Emily hoped that the world wouldn’t harden her like it had them.

Emily quickly changes into her pyjamas and climbs into bed next to them, the movement of the bed waking Eliza. The little girl turns over and blearily opens her eyes, looking at her as confusion spreads over her face.

“Mama.”

She shushes Eliza, pulling her into her arms. “Mommy’s here.” She presses a kiss to her hair, tucking her daughter tightly to her side. “Go back to sleep, sweet girl.”

Aaron wakes up to find his wife laying next to him, Eliza asleep on her. Emily is awake, her hand stroking up and down their daughter’s back like she used to do when she was a newborn, only able to fall asleep with her mother’s seemingly magic touch.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Emily opens her eyes and turns to look at him, a sleepy smile on her face. “Hey you.”

He moves towards her, knowing she can’t move without waking the toddler in their bed. Aaron kisses his wife and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. He keeps his hand on her face, stroking her jawline gently.

“I missed you.” He whispers before pressing his forehead against hers briefly.

“I missed you too.”

Aaron smiles at her admission, the lack of a humorous response indicating how tired she must really be. His hand drifts down to her abdomen, his palm pressed to the barely there bump.

“Are you ok? Both of you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s full of adoration. “We’re both fine, honey.” She smirks at him. “Even if Derek almost did annoy me to death, I’m assuming because you threatened him with some awful fate if he didn’t keep an eye on me.”

Aaron smiles at her, caught out just like he knew he would be. “I may have told him I’d recommend him to the academy for firearm training with all the new recruits.”

Emily laughs at that, and it jostles Eliza, who briefly grumbles before falling back asleep.

Emily looks back up at Aaron, a wistful look on her face. It makes him frown, concern for her spreading through him like it burnt.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah.” She says, nodding. “It’s just, I miss her and Jack so much when I’m gone. How am I going to feel with another kid I’m leaving behind?”

“You aren’t leaving them behind, love.” He says, kissing her forehead. “You’re doing an important job.” He feels her shudder, and he knows her emotions are getting the better of her. He cups the back of her head, his lips still pressed to her skin. “And we have about 6 months left before the baby comes to figure things out if you want a change.”

She nods against him, her agreement silent.

“You could do with some sleep.”

He runs his fingers through her hair until she drifts off, her breath evening out against his skin. He pulls back just enough to look at his girls, his beautiful daughter and his pregnant wife.

He hopes their next baby is a girl too, and that she’s just like her mother.

#hotchniss #hotchniss prompt #hotchniss mini fic #hotchniss fluff #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #just pure family fluff #Girl Dad Aaron #Momily #Demily friendship #CM fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #prompt answered #so fluffy you might loose a tooth

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Eighteen

Amoreena Chapter Eighteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: hospital visits, fainting, IV's and ultrasounds!

word count: 5k

from the beginning <3

Y/N heads off to work at 8 on Wednesday, sick and miserable but it's her job. Leaving Spencer with the girls. “So, what are our plans for today?”

“We need to pick up some paint samples so we can pick for my room,” Jo replies, shovelling waffles into her mouth right after with syrup dripping down her chin.

Spencer passes her a napkin with a smile, “do you guys want to go visit my friend Penelope? She’s really good with aesthetics, as she calls them, she’ll be able to help the best.”

“She’s the one you told me about?”

Spencer nods, “yeah, I’m just going to call and see if she’s free today. Put your dishes in the dishwasher after, your mom doesn’t need to come home from work to do the sticky dishes okay?”

“Yes sir,” they both groan, jokingly, smiling at each other as they do so.

He runs up to his bedroom then, sitting on his side of the bed and taking his phone out of his pocket. He dials Luke’s number instead, knowing she’d kill him if she’s still asleep while he’s calling her.

“Hey man!” Luke answers, cheerful and very awake. “How’s the new kid?”

“Jo’s great, she’s settling in really well,” He smiles, news travelled fast in the BAU, “I actually want to introduce her to Penelope, is she awake and willing to take visitors this early?”

“Um,” he can hear Luke’s panic through the phone, “you know, here she’s beside me, she can tell you.”

“Hello, Spencer,” Penelope’s voice carries down the line and invoking a smile on Spencer’s face. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to introduce you to Josephine today, are you busy?”

“We have a doctor's appointment to go to in 10 minutes, but we’ll be home around 10:30?”

His brain stalls, malfunctioning a small amount at why Luke would be going to the doctors with Penelope. “You can’t be pregnant too, me you and Derek can’t all have kids the same age.”

“Savannah’s pregnant too?!” Penelope screams down the line, “holy shit.”

“Penelope!” Spencer shouts, “are you kidding me?”

“No, we were going to tell you soon, when you made that wine comment a few weeks ago I knew she was pregnant because I am too,” Penelope’s voice is so soft he knows she’s smiling on the other side.

She always wanted kids, that’s why she spoiled Henry and Hank so much, they were like her honorary babies until she was in the right place to have kids of her own. She has told Spencer time and time again how much she wants a family, how badly she wanted one but couldn’t find the perfect partner… then she met Luke.

“Put Luke back on,” Spencer sounds sterner than he means to, Penelope puts him on speaker instead.

“Are we going to have the father-to-son chat?” Luke teases him through the phone.

“I just wanted to thank you, this is going to be a really cool experience,” Spencer feels incredibly emotional at the thought of all 3 of their kid's meeting and being best friends.

“You just bumped Spencer to the top of my suggestions list,” Luke jokes in response, not able to handle the sappiness this early in the morning. “Thanks, man, So Derek’s going to be a dad again too?”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Spencer feels a bit like an idiot, “I don’t know how far along they are so just keep it a secret for now.”

“She’ll probably tell me when I tell her,” Penelope rationalized it, “it’s fine, Spence, all of us are having babies it’s a good secret to spill.”

“When are you due?”

“January 29th,” Penelope smiles, “you?”

“Y/N doesn’t know for sure, but she’s thinking it’s February 20th, if she got her math right,” Spencer confirms with a smile, “we have a doctor's appointment to see the little one in 2 weeks.”

“We find out if it’s a boy or girl today,” Luke added, and he can hear Penelope smack him.

“We’re not finding out! I want it to be a surprise!”

“I’m going to find out, I’m going to stare that sonogram down till I see a pee-pee or not,” Luke bickered back. Making her furious on purpose, like always.

“Good luck with that, it’s a blob and you’re a dork,” she fought right back, probably even more feisty now that she was pregnant.

That made Spencer just shake his head, he couldn’t even picture it. It was insane when Haley got pregnant and Hotch became a dad, he was so shocked when JJ got pregnant and her small body was able to do it. He’ll never forget seeing Derek become a father, it was way too eventful not to. But this, he never thought he’d see it.

She probably felt the same with him.

“We’ve got to go in now Spence, but we can pick up some brunch and meet you at ours around 11?” Penelope cut into his awkward silence, “you can see the ultrasound and be the first to know.”

“Sounds good, I’m really happy for you, Penny,” Spencer added with a smile. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

After he hangs up he shoots a text over to Y/N, “taking the girls to Penelope’s house, is there an extra booster seat for Amoreena anywhere?” And slides his phone back into his pocket.

Down the stairs, Jo and Amoreena are doing the dishes instead of just placing them in the dishwasher. Amoreena is on a stool, washing the plates as Jo dries and is able to reach the cabinets better to put them away. They don’t even know he’s there watching as they pass plates back and forth.

Then Amoreena jumps off the stool as the water drains, finally turning around to see her dad, “all clean! Mom shouldn’t have to do anything while she’s making a baby.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, his girls were so perfectly kind and caring. It was like he won the genetic lottery being blessed with them.

“She’d really appreciate us keeping the house clean for the next few months,” Spencer agreed. “Are you guys excited or nervous about the baby?”

They both shrugged and moved in closer to the counter, resting against it as they thought it over. He pressed his lips together awkwardly as he waited, “I’m really nervous.” He announced, watching their faces turn to worry.

“Why?” Jo asked, “You’re really good at being a dad.”

“I haven’t done it from the beginning yet,” he’s open and honest with them, letting them know he doesn’t always have every answer but he’s brave enough to try.

“If anything,” Amoreena’s smart little mind gets to work, “because you’ve been so amazing without really knowing us, I can imagine Elly will love you the most because she’ll know you the longest.”

“Elly?” Spencer smiles, remembering how serious they all are about the next kid is a girl too.

Amoreena nodded, “she has the choice of 3 nicknames, Elly, Leo or Nora…” She’s clearly thought it all through.

“You know, I was thinking we should get something for Y/N and the baby, do you guys want to go to the store before we go see aunty Penny?”

They both nod enthusiastically, “can we go get changed first?” Amoreena asks, “I want to wear something nice.”

It makes him laugh, “of course, hey, before you go do you know where any more booster seats are for you?”

She bites her lip to think, “hmm, I think there’s one in poppy’s truck?”

“Okay, you go get ready, I’ll go talk to poppy,” Spencer replies, and before he can even turn around both of them are running up the creaky, loud, wooden steps and into their rooms.

He’s already in jeans and a plaid shirt from feeding the chickens that morning, adding just his running shoes and Grandpa’s hat, it was basically his now. He loved it, it felt right, it made Y/N and Amoreena smile when he wore it, and it completed the look of stay-at-home Farm Dad.

He walked right into Y/N’s parent's house, pulling back the screen door before walking, “knock, knock,” he says, smiling as he sees Linda rounding the corner from the kitchen.

“Spencer!” She cheers, wiping her hands off on her apron before pulling him into a hug. “How are your girls?”

“Good,” he smiles again, holding her close quickly before letting her go again. “I’m taking them to a friend's house, does Amoreena have a booster seat here?” He asks for the 3rd time that morning, not wanting to drive her anywhere unless she’s perfectly secured.

“Bob’s got one in the truck, leave your keys here in case he has to go anywhere and just take the truck, it’s easier than taking the seat out and putting it back in,” Linda problem-solved like it was her job.

“Okay,” he places his keys in her hand.

“Bob’s are on the wall by the door, have fun today!” Linda waved him off, “oh, and tell Y/N congratulations.”

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled, “the wedding was really fun.”

He’s just taking the keys off the wall and opening the door again when he hears her small laughter, “I meant on the baby.”

He turns quickly, “how did you know?”

Linda shakes her head, “there are 3 cases of ginger ale in the fridge and 8 empty boxes of saltine crackers in the recycling.”

He turns pink, embarrassed for some reason as if Linda didn’t know he was sleeping with her daughter. He nods with a press-lipped smile. “She didn’t want to tell anyone till the ultrasound.”

“I understand,” Linda smiled. “I’m ready to talk to her when she is, let her know that.”

“I will,” he smiled one last time, “see you later!”

And they were off.

—

He’s in a big red farm truck, wearing a farm hat and plaid while listening to Taylor Swift with his daughters.

He can’t help but shake his head at the insanity, agreeing with Taylor’s current lyric that’s being burned into his head, “fever dream high in the quiet of the night you know that I caught it!”

Amoreena and Jo are in the back, singing together as they share what songs are their favourites. It’s surreal, every single moment is, if it wasn’t for how badly it made his heartache to see them so happy he’d think it was all a dream.

The girls are very adamant about going to TJMaxx for a present for Y/N, saying it’s the best place to find nice things for a good price. Spencer would spend a million dollars on her if he could, but this was a group decision, and there were 2 of them now, so he never won anymore.

They get a decent parking space, getting out together they look insane. Spencer is a walking talking Woody from Toy Story at this point, Jo’s in all black and combat boots and Amoreena is a princess… it was an interesting group, to say the least.

They get a cart, pushing it up and down the aisles as they find a million and 1 cute things for Y/N. Everything from paintings to towels, maternity clothes and baby toys, makeup brushes and scarves… they were having the hardest time finding the best thing to get for them.

Spencer turned down the final aisle in the back corner, seeing a bunch of headboards and chairs, and a small little bassinet. It’s whicker and woven beautifully, light wood and a fluffy white inside. It’s soft, well made, and incredibly cute.

“Mom gave my crib to Aunt Ashely, she might like this!” Amoreena cheered, leaning over it to show that she was the perfect height to see inside of it too.

“I’m going to get it,” Spencer announces, “it’ll look nice in our room, and it’s good for the first few months while she’s really dependent on your mom.”

They were all on team girl now, Spencer and his little women just made the most sense. He couldn’t see anyone other than all his girls in his mind when he thought of the future, and he’s had enough time with boys anyway. Hank and Henry would always hold a special place in his heart.

The girls each wanted t pick something out for the baby, heading right for the girl section of the baby aisle. “Now, you have to remember that they’ll be very tiny in the winter, and around 6 months in the summer.”

Everything was actually decently priced like the girls said it would be, so Spencer went a bit overboard. It was his first baby too, he was allowed to spoil it. He stocked up on bib rags, swaddle blankets, pacifiers and cute little hats. Jo and Amoreena on the other handpicked out the cutest little winter coat. It would be perfect for the Virginia winter, a big brown bear coat that zipped up like a sleeping bag. She’s going to be so cozy.

Bringing everything to the cashier was fun, she could see they were all related and smiled, “another brother or sister on the way?”

Jo and Amoreena smiled, “in February,” Jo was the one to answer with a wide smile.

“Congrats!” She smiles as she rings everything through, bagging it all while Spencer pays and the girls take it all to the truck.

“Wait, so will I ever meet my other brother and sister?” Amoreena asks as they’re filling the bed of the truck with what they bought, completely out of the blue.

“Not for a while, Jo kinda broke the rules to find me and figured out who they are, but they can’t know till they’re 18,” Spencer explained.

She turns to Jo with a look of worry, “was my name on there?”

Jo nods enthusiastically, “oh yeah! You’re baby number 3! It goes me, Alice, you and then Dylan is the youngest.”

Amoreena starts to cry, it's soft at first as she goes silent and then she’s heaving as she thinks about it more. She throws herself into Spencer’s arms and he’s so confused. Shushing her as he rubs her back gently, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I knew it,” is all she can say. Holding him closer than before. “You were too great to just be my dad.”

Jo places her hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “she’s right.”

“You guys are the amazing ones,” he says softly. “Come on, let’s get in the truck and go see Aunt Penny, she has a surprise.”

Amoreena sighed as she pulled back, “I don’t think I can handle anything more.”

It makes him laugh, “it’s a simple one, I promise.”

—

Jo loves Penelope. They instantly click, discussing exactly how she hacked the Sperm bank in all the technical terms which ended up sounding like gibberish to Spencer. She was incredibly smart and very interested in the computer programming field. Penelope offered to take her under her wing.

Amoreena, however, fell head over heels in love with Luke. He was nice to her at the barbecue because he’s Luke and he doesn’t know how to be anything but nice, and she thought he looked like Prince Naveen from the princess and the frog… which just so happened to be her favourite and suddenly Spencer understood why she was in a green princess dress today.

It was adorable, she looked up at him like he was an actual prince with big brown doe eyes as she listened to him talk about all the knightly battles he’s been on recently. She was enamoured, having her first little kid crush on her Aunt’s boyfriend.

Spencer was holding Penelope’s sonogram in his hands, alone on the couch as his kids were deep in conversation with his friends. It was really cool, that’s all he could think. Himself, Derek and Penelope were going to have 3 kids all around the same age.

3 little people who got to grow up with a bond and friendship just as strong as theirs. Each of them having 2 best friends, 2 protectors, it was going to be amazing. He can see it now, a confident little Garcia, a feisty little Morgan and a shy yet chatty little Reid baby all together on the playground. What a nightmare for their poor teacher.

Y/N still hasn’t texted him back from this morning, yet she’s calling him now at 1 pm as they’re getting ready to leave, “hello, princess.”

“Can you leave the girls with Penelope and meet me in the ER?”

“Of what hospital? Are you okay?” He asks, and all eyes are on his horrified face.

Luke stands then, “I’ll take you, let’s go.”

“Bethesda, it’s not bad I just came in to check something and I want you here,” her voice is soft and she knows he’s going to panic. “I need you to breathe and stay calm or the kids will freak out.”

He takes a deep breath, “sorry I forgot we had an appointment today.” He lies pretty well.

“I’ll see you soon okay, text me while Luke drives me?” He’s quiet as he and Luke slip out the door.

“I’ll just stay on the line, I don’t mind, cutie,” he could see her smile in his mind as he listened to her. Able to actually calm down and think straight as he climbed into the passenger seat and handed Luke the keys.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t feel good, I was extra dizzy and sick a few times at work, so Allison made me come in. Savannah has me hooked up to an IV now, I’ve been so sick I’m dehydrated, and they wanted to do an ultrasound but I can’t see her without you here.”

His heartbeat settles a bit, the same thing happened to JJ. It was fairly normal, the first-trimester sickness was so horrific she wasn’t really eating, she had maybe 1 full meal a day even though he tried to get her to eat more. And she was drinking a lot of water, but she was also throwing up hourly. It wasn’t healthy.

“Okay,” he’s able to smile softly. “Thank you for wanting to wait for me.”

She hears his smile too, knowing he’s calm and okay. “She’s your first baby, baby, I want you to have all the firsts with her. Or him. I’m so settled on it being another girl I feel so bad sometimes…”

He can hear the paper of her hospital gown rustling as she rubs her small stomach. “I love you forever even if you are a boy, or you come out a quote-unquote boy and want to be a girl or the other way or neither or even both!” She’s clearly not talking to him anymore as she assures the baby she’s not going to be upset about its gender.

Luke drives like a maniac, Spencer knows from experience but he’s extra insane today. He has dad panic now too, he knows what Spencer’s thinking and so he guns it and he’s in the ER parking lot within 10 minutes. “Okay, I’m here where are you?”

“Savannah’s going to collect you at the door and bring you to me,” her voice is soft and calm still, “I’ll see you in a few minutes, love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies before hanging up. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke places his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “you know by now I’d kill for you, right?”

Spencer’s heart has been at a capacity for love for a while now and yet it keeps getting piled on, “thank you. If you want to go back to Penny’s that’s okay. I’ll drive Y/N’s car back to your place.”

“Sure,” Luke smiles again. “Go see that baby, I want to see pictures after!”

With that, Spencer’s getting out of the truck and running into the hospital, holding his hat so it doesn’t fly off. Savannah laughs when she sees him, he’s so anxious and sweet and she’s always admired him for making Derek feel loved before her.

She places a hand on his back as she leads him down the hall, “she’s fine I promise, I wouldn’t be this chill if she wasn’t.”

“Thank you,” Spencer stops, “I really love her Savannah. Like if anything happens to her or my kids I will kill myself kind of love her and it’s terrifying.” His words are a whisper as he shakes, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m trying to be cool and collected for her but I need a minute.”

Savannah looks down the corridor past him, smiling softly as Derek walks out of Y/N’s room. “Derek was here for lunch when she called me.”

He wraps Spencer up in the hug he needs and Spencer just holds him. “You’re the best,” he says softly as he rests his lips against Derek's shoulder like he always does. And Derek messes up his hair, without fail.

Derek places his hands on his cheeks, “she’s really cool, but tomorrow is called off until they’re both past the first trimester and everything is chill, okay?”

“I forgot all about that,” Spencer’s eyes widen.

Derek laughs, “go see your girl, she invited us over for dinner after.”

“Penelope and Luke have to come too, they have big news to share today too,” Spencer spills the beans, “she’s going to be so mad at me for telling you but I have been wanting to scream about it for a few hours now.”

Derek’s face lights up, “I’ll be back!”

Savannah laughs as he runs down the hall, surely going to congratulate his best friend and tell her all about how cool it’ll be to all have kids together. With all the enthusiasm that Spencer kept inside, Derek was about to scream on his behalf.

Y/N’s a vision in the blue paper gown, laying on the table with her hand over her belly as Spencer walks in, “Hey, cutie.”

He peppers kisses to her whole face while she laughs, reaching up with her free hand, the other is all taped up with wires for her fluids. She looks much better already, her skin is glowing and the life is back in her eyes, she’s smiling again and he notices the 2 empty jello cups beside an unopened one.

“Derek made me save you one,” She adds as he notices it, “in case you passed out or something.”

Within minutes, he’s done his jello and there’s a new woman he’s never seen before coming in for Y/N’s ultrasound. She introduces herself as Aria and Y/N can’t help but mention she kind of looks like Arizona on Grey’s Anatomy.

She’s not far along enough for the regular ultrasound wand to pick anything up, wiping her belly clean of the jelly before prepping the other one and Y/N grips Spencer’s hand tighter. She looks like she hates it, and Spencer probably would too if some strange lady shoved a metal stick up his parts.

She’s clicking around on her own, Spencer knows she’s just a tech and she can’t really tell them anything until she does the first sweep for all the answers. She turns the screen after a few minutes, “here’s your little baby, we have a healthy heartbeat and a placenta up here in the top left.”

Seeing his baby is the most magical moment of his life. She was so tiny, the size of a sweet pea inside the love of his life. She looked like a little alien, tiny in her little sac as she floated around in there. Happy, and healthy and growing day by day.”

“Just the one?” Y/N confirms.

Aria laughs, “yes, nothing else is going on in here, but they are measuring more at 7 weeks, almost 8, instead of 6 weeks and 5 days, even with your period math, they might just be a big baby.”

“Our first kid was a chunky baby,” Y/N smiles, looking at the screen and oblivious to how Spencer smiles at the words our first kid…

“So this little one is good, in the fetal position and the tail is at the right length for development, they should look like a person the next time you see them. Everything looks like it’s on track and your HCG is doubling perfectly,” Aria was very cheerful. “You’re just sick because they’re super healthy.”

“I’m fine with that,” Y/N smiles again, “can I have a bunch of copies? Everyone is going to want one.”

“Sure,” Aria hits a few buttons, printing 11 photos off and handing them over to her in a long strand. “Have you looked into any OB’s for this one?”

“Not yet, I was going to bring it up tonight,” Y/N’s the only one talking, Spencer has no idea if he’s allowed an opinion on her body and he’s never going to give one unless she asks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it! Here are some facilities we like if you need recommendations,” she smiles as she hands them a booklet. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Y/N swoons, sitting up to look at her little baby photos and read the booklet.

Once the woman is gone, she smiles at Spencer, “I want to do a water birth, how are you feeling about that?”

“Like I’ll be there no matter what you pick?” He answers, “I just want you to be safe and in good hands, preferably in a birthing centre where they’re all trained to care for you. I’ve been a little stressed at the idea of us living so far away from the hospital, so it’s better to not do a home birth in case something goes wrong last minute.”

It’s a Reid rant of epic proportions, “okay, water birth in a birthing centre it is. Plus, it’ll be winter so I wouldn’t want to drive in that while giving birth.”

“How long do you have to stay here?”

“Once my IV fluid bag is empty, I can go.” She smiles wide, holding his hand gently as she looks at him. “They’re going to send a nurse to the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays to ensure I get more fluids in me, and I’m also going to take some nausea meds now.”

“Thank you for calling me,” Spencer whispers, “I’m so happy you feel safe with Derek, and that he could have been here for you, but can you call me first next time?”

She nods, “I was scared, I needed to know if she was okay before I told you because I love you a lot and seeing you upset made me more scared.”

“I don’t want you to feel like that,” Spencer shook his head softly, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. “I may be a worry wort and an anxious crier, but I will hold your hand and I will be here, you mean more to me than anything else.”

She cupped his face with her free hand, “the girls better be on the same level as me.” She brings a smile to his face, “if anything happens to me you have to be strong for them, I know nothing bad will. But I need you to know I do have faith in you to keep going after me, for them. They need a parent, be it me or you, at 100% all the time.”

“I promise,” he smiles so she knows he’s true.

—

Penelope Spencer and Derek laid all 3 of their ultrasounds on Y/N’s kitchen table, a sticky note on each one. Baby Garvez, Baby Morgan and Baby Reid…

The Big Three 2.0 coming this winter.

Penelope took a photo of it, opening the BAU text thread that has all members past and present included. Sending the photo to everyone while they patiently waited for a response.

Jordan Todd: way to go!!! Can’t wait to see all that cuteness!

Anderson: !!! Bring them by the office sometime, please!

Hotch: Jack said he’s excited to meet his new cousins. Congrats guys.

Elle: is Penelope having 2 babies or did Spencer get a wife I don’t know about?

Emily: Congrats!! (And yes Spencer has a wife and 3 kids now apparently…)

Elle: pics or it didn’t happen

Spencer:

Elle: no fuckin way... congrats Reid!

Alex Blake: so proud of you Spencer, I always knew you could do it. Love is full of endless possibilities. Your kids will be so loved, I miss you all.

Matt Cruz: congrats!

Kate Callahan: we need to get you a triple stroller

Penelope: Please!! Zoo trips are going to be a riot with that!

Tara: so happy for you all!

Matt: Welcome to the club Spencer and Luke!

Kristy: and Y/N! We need to throw a big baby shower on the farm before the cold weather!

Will: JJ…

JJ: no.

Will: Spencer, tell nini I’m really happy she’s finally going to be a big sis, she’s always been so good with the kids. You made some great kids!

Spencer: thanks everyone ♥︎

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

[sassycassie-s-writing]

A Future That’s Worth It

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+ (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Nothing in particular.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I have some headcanons on height and weight of the characters that I used for this one. Have fun!

^^^^^

The bed dipped behind me. I’d been more than halfway to sleep, but the movement shocked me awake. I rolled over.

Rhysand gave me a lazy smile. “Evening, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“Technically no, but a little bit.”

“Sorry.” The look on his face implied he was in no way genuinely apologetic. He shuffled to get more comfortable, one wing draping over the two of us, and loosed a long sigh. I snuggled against his bare chest, eyes on his tattoos.

“Something the matter?” I asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“If I never have to truly fight again, for the rest of what will hopefully be a very long life, I will be grateful,” he said, breath fluttering my loose hairs.

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt a claw against my mental shields, a single, gentle drag against the black marble I used to keep my private thoughts private. A request for entry. I reached out tiredly to feel his own mental shield was already lowered. A rare occurrence for him. He had one of the most complex shields I’d ever experienced.

I let the shield drop. His presence overwhelmed me almost immediately. I’d probably never fully witness the extreme depth of his power, but it dominated over my little well of magic by what was probably thousands of times.

His presence was the comforting, healing darkness of lovers clinging to one another. The gentle shade under a wide oak tree on a hot summer day. Nothing of the sharp, secret darkness of spies and assassins. The soft night of dreams. “Do you feel peace, now?” I asked. “Now that the King of Hybern is dead and his army decimated?”

“It’ll take years for me to reach true peace for that, after all the pain and death and suffering. But I feel peace right now, holding you. I feel a grim tranquility in knowing I would gladly cause more carnage if it meant keeping you safe. I hated releasing that beast inside me during the war, but I’ll always go feral to protect what’s mine. You, our family, this city, our people. All of it. I would fight until my own death to ensure the future of those I’m responsible for.”

“Self-sacrificing fool,” I teased. There was no bite to the words.

“You’re one too,” he retorted with the same tired lack of malice.

“Never said I wasn’t. Therefore, you can’t call me a hypocrite.”

“Touché.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me. “Get some sleep, High Lord. We both need it.”

He brushed some of my loose hairs from my face. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” I smiled slightly.

The sweet caress of his darkness in my mind soothed all the day’s worries. If neither of us ever had to pick up a blade for a battle ever again, it would be too soon.

I reached up with the hand around his waist and stroked the bone of his wing. He shivered, but he’d taught me where to touch to calm, and where to touch to excite. His other muscles were pliant, relaxed, as I ran my fingers gently over his wing.

We put each other to sleep not long after that.

—

“—told him it was a bad idea, but he was just like, ‘Stop telling me how to live my life!’” Mor’s loud voice woke me the next morning as the doors opened downstairs, the last bit dropping as low as she could go in a horrible but hilarious imitation of Cassian. Amren’s laughter followed.

The bed was empty besides me, but Rhys’ side was still warm.

I got up and pulled on my dressing gown over my nightgown. I brushed my hair briefly so it wasn’t quite so tangled and ventured out of our room.

Mor and Amren had already made it to the kitchen and were raiding the pantry for breakfast.

“What’s a bad idea?” I asked around a yawn.

“Cassian was gonna challenge Azriel to a flying race. From the House to the roof here,” Mor explained, pointing directly overhead.

“Azriel’s gonna win,” I said.

“That’s what I said. Cassian didn’t listen.”

I chuckled, joining them for breakfast.

Amren looked around. “Where’s your High Lord?”

“I was gonna ask you two the same thing. I assumed he got out of bed and came down to talk to you guys. Sheets were still warm when I woke up.”

Mor’s expression turned to one of amused dread. “He’s gonna join the race,” she said.

“I bet you’re right,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes. “They are five-and-a-half centuries old and they still behave like children.”

“Glad you’re his mate and not me,” Amren said with a smile as she drank from her goblet and shuddered. She hated food still, but she no longer had a choice.

“Frankly, me too,” I said. “I can’t imagine the chaos the two of you would cause.”

Mor laughed.

I assume you’re at the House of Wind? I thought down the bond, pushing the thought hard to make sure he received it.

Yep, Rhys’ voice replied in my mind.

I’ll be on the roof. Mor and I will referee.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The words were too laced with laughter to be the truth.

Children. All three of you, I fired back.

All I got in return was his rumbling laughter. Distant thunder promising a welcome summer storm.

“Wanna join me on the roof?” I offered to Mor and Amren.

“Not really,” Amren replied.

“I will,” Mor said.

The two of us climbed up the stairs and sat on the white-painted iron chairs. Mor had a cup of tea and I had a mug of molten chocolate.

I looked up at the House of Wind. So far, there were no figures flying around its peak.

Mor lounged on her chair and eyed me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. The early spring air was still clinging to the cold of winter and my satin dressing gown and nightgown were clinging to the cold right along with it, but it was something of a welcome change after the stifling heat under the covers in bed. “I’ll be fine for how long it’ll take Rhys and his brothers to get here.”

You ready? I asked.

Waiting on you, he replied.

We’re ready.

Then look up.

“They’re going,” I said to Mor, turning my attention back to the House.

Sure enough, three figures leapt off a balcony near the peak, streaking in a straight line toward us, wings barely extended to keep them aloft and at the angle they wanted. From their distance I couldn’t make out who was who yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Five gold marks on Azriel,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to always bet on Rhys?” Mor teased.

“Azriel is lighter than Rhys and Cassian. I’m making an educated guess.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five gold marks on Rhys then.”

We watched them get closer.

“Rhys is going to be offended you bet against him,” Mor remarked.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Rhys can winnow and Azriel… kinda does to. With the shadows. I’m not sure how he does it,” Mor mused. “But, Cassian—he just flies everywhere. So he’s probably a little better at it than both of them. More practiced, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah… how about, if Cassian wins, we each give Amren five marks?”

Mor laughed. “She’d love and hate that. That we made her bet for her and chose Cassian.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But she wouldn’t mind the money.”

“Not at all.”

I caught glints of blue and red. Rhys was on the left, no Siphons, with Cassian in the middle and Azriel to the right. I still couldn’t tell who was in front, but it looked like I might have been right about Azriel. He looked like he was barely ahead of Rhys and Cassian.

As the three drew closer, I realized this was the future we’d fought the war for. The future full of fun and joy. The future of stupid games and meaningless bets. No gambling lives. Just a few marks for no reason other than fun. If Rhys never turned into that beast again, if he’d done enough to ensure our safety and security—finally—then it was all worth it.

They were close enough to see their faces now. Mor and I cleared a place where three could land all close to the same time and not knock over any furniture or trip. While Mor thought it’d be funny, I didn’t want anyone to face-plant off the roof.

Azriel slammed feet first into the roof. I thought I heard the attic rattle. Rhys hit barely half a second after, with Cassian right behind.

Mor gave me a long-suffering glance and sipped her tea. “I owe you five marks,” she said before flouncing back downstairs.

“You placed bets?” Cassian asked.

“You’re surprised?” I retorted sharply. Azriel snorted quietly.

“Fair enough,” Cassian said.

“You bet against me?” Rhys sounded offended even as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth banished the cold clinging to my dressing gown.

I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to rise to his bait. “Azriel’s lighter than both of you. Skinnier. He can probably cut through the air easier. I made an educated guess,” I said, repeating what I said to Mor. I tilted up onto my tiptoes and kissed Rhys’ chin, since he was too tall for me to reach his cheek.

Rhys chuckled. “That’s okay, because I owe Cassian ten marks. I bet on Azriel too.” He kissed my forehead. The four of us still on the roof started making our way down. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever anyone can find!” Mor shouted from below.

I grabbed Rhys’ wrist and held him so Cassian and Azriel would get ahead of us. When we were alone, I wrapped my arms around him. “This is the future we—you—fought for,” I whispered. “Is it worth it, to you?”

“I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

“Me neither.”

We held each other for a few more moments.

Then Cassian was calling us to haul downstairs before the food was gone.

Laughing, we descended.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #A Future That's Worth It

[whereflowersbloom]

La tendresse

She wakes with sunlight bright in her face, body aching all over and a slight headache. She felt like she might vomit but swallowed it down. She had been worse off before from a little wine sickness and survived. Rhachel sat up slowly, closing her eyes when the world tilted dangerously. When she figured she was steady enough, she opened them again.

The sun was streaming in through her open window, painting pinks and orange hues in the sky. Though the shadow led her to believe it was later than she normally woke. How long had she slept? It’s usually the birds that woke her up, their chirping a sweet melody that reminded her of homeland or the warm, familiar sensation of Damian’s lips wandering the curves of her body. She looked around, and spotted a flower on the little table next to the bed along with a breakfast tray of something. There were a few thick slices of Ma’rouk bread, some figs and grapes, and something that looked like rice custard.

She picked up the white rose, noticing the little card tied to the stem with a delicate silver ribbon. ‘To my lovely Princess of thorns, this flower pales in comparison to your beauty and grace. I’ll come find you after my council meeting. With fondness Damian.” Immediately a smile was curving her lips and all she could think about was her Damian. ‘Love can blossom over time just as it can capture you in a single breathe’ Lady Z had told her once before coming to the land of Sand for the tourney. One moment with him had been enough to set her world ablaze. His eyes like wildfire ignited her soul and engulfed her completely in the flames of ardor.

The first fingers of the coming winter caressed her bare legs, a false spring giving way to chill. The thin robe she wore did little to help her chill from the open window, the ivory satin clinging to her torso and hips but providing no heat. The last days of autumn brought a freezing cold breeze and even behind the safety of the red mountains, the blistering hot deserts of Nanda Parbat were not safe.

Soon it would be winter and it meant her seven and ten nameday was coming as well. Much had changed since she married Damian, she thought dropping her hands to the soft curve of her belly. Almost unnoticeable but there was no doubt a life was growing inside her womb.

The reason of her morning sickness became obvious after the imperial physician asked when was the last time she bled. She had not bled for two moons, she realized then. There had been a look of such happiness on Damian’s face when she told him the wonderful news and suddenly he was the sun itself. Radiating joy the same way as the colossal star did warmth.

She proceeded to eat her breakfast slowly, keeping almost all of it it down despite her stomach protesting. Kori was missing at the moment. Perhaps she was letting her take a rest from court. Nonetheless, she still had duties to attend that could not be ignored. Just as she was finishing her meal, someone knocked on her chamber’s door.

“Come in.” She replied, assuming it was Kori and preparing to greet her. The door groaned when it swung open, protesting. To her surprise, she met familIar green eyes she knew too well.

Damian.

“Awake now?” He murmured with an slightly amused expression. Her cheeks warming faintly at his question.

“The babe seems to be restless just like his father.” She pressed a hand to her stomach where she imagines their child to rest. After a brief moment she asks. “Is the council meeting over?”

“I left for a moment.” Damian said with a twinge of disappointment as he was reminded they still had much to discuss. He parted his lips as if to speak, but closed it again, thinking carefully of his words as he didn’t want to stir her emotions. “I wanted to spend time with you before I ride north with Jon.”

Her chest tightened painfully. Damian was riding with Jon up the snowy Kunlun mountains to distribute thick garments and goods for the less fortunate. She tried to remain neutral and collected as the crown princess she was, but her voice faltered, betraying her distress. “You could take me with you.”

“I do not want to risk your good health.” Damian shook his head lightly, the tension evident on his clenched jaw. He understood that she did not went to part from him but given her condition. It was best his wife stayed in the capital as he could not risk his heir. “Conner and Jayson will stay behind to protect you.”

The thought that this child in her womb could die sent jolts of heartache through her bosom. She just nodded, shaking off such dark thoughts.

Even if she was raised to be dutiful queen, it took her some time after marrying into the Al Ghul house to understand such a responsibility bore a heavy weight. Watching her every step as Damian assured there were enemies between them at court. Life was filled with rules and expectations she was if being frank unprepared for.

“Come lay with me.” She pleaded gently, reaching out an arm and patting the empty space next to her. She was far too tired to do much else.

Promptly, Damian kicked the door shut behind him. Ghosting to the large bed, climbing on before lying next to his wife. She nestled close to him, enjoying the warmth he provided, letting her head fall to the side to admire his face, and he did the same, those otherworldly indigo eyes bright and alive, burning with pure devotion.

“I’ll think of you every day we are apart.” Damian grasped her left hand, kissing the palm. “Both of you.” He added as one of his hands slid to the swell of her belly, stroking it tenderly.

His fingers travelled up, ghosting along her jaw until he's cupping her face, like she’s fragile and precious, a treasure to be hoarded. Damian was a generous and passionate lover, mouth moving over hers tenderly only pausing to whisper words of love and reassurance. She reacted instinctively, responding in kind to his probing tongue.  

“I love you.” She breathed against his mouth. Damian’s expression softened, and for a beat he looks younger, much more like a simple young man in love than the future ruler of the Nanda Parbat.

He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, a gentle caress of his lips on her skin. “You are my queen, Rae. My only queen.“ His words achingly soft and genuine.

“After the babe is born. I promise to take you to Siodonna.” He murmured against her neck, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

The word piqued her Interest. Damian had mentioned it several times while narrating tales of his ancestors and foreign lands he wished to explore. It’s said to be so beautiful it took your breath away. The Homeland of his grandmother, lady Shyla, who came from the tribe of Four Winds. Faraway land of the gray wind and freedom. The city of Sidhe rumored to be built high in the sacred mountains of Rudrà.

“Truly?” Rhachel asked with glee in her voice. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide a hearty laughter when Damian nodded solemnly.

Oh Gods, how she longed for the freedom to roam where she pleased with her husband. To have some time for themselves away from court and royal duties. It won’t be long. It won’t be long before their babe is born.

He gazed at her, his expression bore a twinkling smile. “You have my word.”

“You wish for a boy or girl?” The question slipped past unguarded lips. She never worried about the gender of her child before but the Azarathian queens gave birth to girls as the mystical gifts were inherited only by women. Perhaps Damian wanted a son as any ruler wanted a male heir.

His brows raised at the sudden question. For a beat appeared to be genuinely considering how to answer when he merely shrugged. “A healthy child.”

“Damian...” She pressed as nervousness palpitated in her chest. Chewing on her lower lip as she usually did when distressed. “What if it’s a girl?”

His furrowed his brows. “What would you like to name it if it’s a girl?” It shouldn’t have surprised her that he wanted to have her opinion on the name, but it did. She hadn’t thought about it.

“Manon.” The young woman answered. Would Damian like the name for their child? She envisioned a little girl with silver tresses and golden skin as the sun’s rays, and bright emerald eyes as the man she loved. “In my homeland it means blessed child.”

Damian smiled in content. “Our child is surely a blessing.”

“If it’s a boy, you can name it.” She ventured.

Damian breathed out a sigh. “Grandfather would want a strong name like Ra’ miel.” Rhachel immediately frowned. She was not entirely sure she wanted their child named after a past Al Ghul king as some of them did not have particularly great reigns. His green eyes flicked down to her belly, fingers caressing fondly and his smile widened. “We can think of one together when the times comes.”

“Boy or girl, it does not matter.” Damian’s orbs were twin pools of tenderness and awe. He tapped the tip of her nose affectionately. “I shall love any child you bear.”

A radiant smile graced Rhachel’s features, heart overflowing with joy at the declaration. The future seemed more hopeful, the weight of worry lifted off her chest. Damian was right; it did not matter if she gave birth to a boy or girl. This was the fruitful result of their love and sole heir to the Al Ghul throne. . Azar please grant your protection to this child of mine, the princess prayed in silence, her hand on her abdomen.

Yooooo. Have some damirae dorm your favorite teacup. 👀👀👀👀

I wrote this sleep-deprived so there’s probably mistakes but I’ll edit soon. This is for the damirae week.

Babies and Damirae fluff and shadows of thorns. Clarifying this is not a chapter but a Spin-off. I tried to avoid including spoilers. 🙈🙈🙈💜💜

@chromium7sky @carnationmilk @tweepunkgrl @amethyst-witch-05 @ravenfan1242 @opheliawillowbrook @alerialblu

#creative writing #damirae #damirae week 2021 #damian al ghul #raven roth #jon kent #jason todd #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #conner kent #batfamily #dc fandom #dc universe #historical au #the author is way too tired to type #no beta or editor we die like robins #robrae #damian wayne

[witching-hour]

Mother [Jax Teller x Reader]

REQUESTED BY @talicat713 Hi love can I request a story with Jax Teller? Maybe the reader is hired to take care of Abel after he is born and Jax is slowly falling in love with her. Maybe she gets really upset when he get kidnapped and starts blaming herself.

(A/N): thanks for the request! sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy <3

SUMMARY: when the reader gets caught in the crossfire with baby abel and half-sac, and gets kidnapped, the reader only blames herself, but jax assures her otherwise

TW: usual sons of anarchy violence, blood, death, guns, kidnapping

“P-P-Please...”

“A son for a son....it’s perfect.”

“Please, he’s just a baby.”

“Take me instead.”

“ABEL!”

You jumped awake as the memory as clear as day plagued your dreams once again. It’s been a week since the blonde haired, blue eyed baby boy you’ve grown to love and cherish as your own was taken from his own home under your care. The club was on lock down when shit hit the fan, first it was Gemma’s desire to seek retribution for her attack, leaving you to drive home with Abel in the backseat. Then it was the tragic death of the prospect who swore and died to protect you and the baby boy. And finally it was your failed attempt to save him before getting knocked out, only to wake up to Jax hovering over you in panic, with Chibs and Opie standing behind him.

“(Y/N/N)!” Jax yelled, shooting into the house with two of his brothers coming up from behind him. “(Y/N)!”

He ran into the kitchen, his white Nike’s getting stained in the puddle of blood he stepped into. He looked down at his foot, alarms blaring in his head. He followed the puddle to its source, “Oh shit...”

“Brother?” Opie eyed Jax’s back, coming closer and seeing the body of their prospect, Half-Sac, on the floor by the table. “....Goddammit.”

Jax saw a pair of bloody footprints lead from the puddle to the back patio door, which was broken, with glass shards everywhere. “(Y/N)!”

The three men wearing cuts stepped through the pane-less door seeing your body on the concrete littered in scrapes and scratches from the glass, and a fresh wound at the temple from being hit in the head with the butt of the Irishman’s gun. The VP rushed to your aid, flipping your body onto your back, and inspecting your face for any other injury as he shook you from your unconscious state.

You moaned in discomfort as you felt yourself drifting back to consciousness. Your head was pounding, making you wanna go back to sleep and ignore the pain. Opening your eyes wasn’t an easy task. It felt like you had to pry your eyelids apart as a heavy weight fell on them.

You felt a hand slide under your back, helping you sit up. You groaned out as the blaring alarms in your head only grew louder. You managed to get your eyes open, only to slam them back shut at the blinding light of the sun. “Shit.”

“Ye alright there, Lass?”

Your eyes open once more, this time staying open as you took in your surroundings. You saw the Scotsman and your favorite beanie wearing patch standing by the broken patio door.

You were outside.

Your hand moved against the concrete, letting out a hiss when you scraped it up some more on the broken glass under you. Jax, who you saw was knelled down next to you, laid his hands on your waist and guided you to stand back up. Looking around so vigorously, trying to piece together why the hell you were even in the backyard of Jax’s house, bruised and bloody, when you were supposed to be on lock down at the clubhouse. Jax tried to coax you to say something but your mind was racing a mile a minute.

Bits and pieces were coming to you at a time; Gemma kissing your cheek, walking in Jax’s kitchen with Abel in his carrier, Half-Sac on the floor gripping his stomach, your screaming and pleas, talking down the Irishman with a gun, you being thrown through plate glass during your tussle with the Irishman, and Abel wailing.

“Abel.” Your eyes wide, head spinning around to meet the other three pairs staring at you, “He took Abel!”

“Who? Who took Abel?!” Jax demanded.

“The Irishman. The one Tara patched up.” Your words were so swift you didn’t even know if you said them correctly.

You told the Sons you would call an ambulance and not worry, and to just find the precious boy you failed to defend. They shot out of the house in search of the baby, but came back emptied handed. The Irishman got on a boat at the docks and stolen Abel before any of SAMCRO could get their hands on him. And it was all your fault.

You could’ve done more. Maybe tried a different approach that would’ve taken down the guard of the unhinged and grieving man who kept going on about loosing his son. Maybe if you’d hit sooner or waited a bit longer before grabbing the gun. Maybe you missed a window of opportunity to grab Abel and make a run for it. The scenarios played through your head relentlessly. Every move you made was different, but only one thing remained the same: it was your fault.

You missed the sweet boy you cared for everyday. But you didn’t deserve to miss him. You were the one who lost him in the first place.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

While you battled the demons screaming in your head, Jax was battling his own on the floor of his son’s nursery drowning in booze, cigarettes, and weed. And it was your fault.

You had grown up with the club, with your dad as a mechanic at TM, and your brother as a member of SAMCRO, you’d grown accustomed to the lifestyle. But you weren’t an Old Lady or member since it was “boy’s club.” You didn’t have any responsibilities besides paying rent and bar tending in the Clubhouse or helping Gemma in the office. So when Wendy was shipped off to rehab, and Tara skipped town back to Chicago, Abel was left with no mother figure or caretaker for when his father had “work.”

You barely did much in the office at TM since Gemma had a system and didn’t want you messing with it, as much as she appreciated the help. The bar tending was mostly nights, only ever making tips here and there when the guys thanked you for serving them after church, or when they threw a party. Not that you desperately needed the money, but you needed a hobby—something to keep you busy during the day and nights where you weren’t working at the parties. So you offered Jax a position he desperately needed: a nanny.

Jax and Ope were closer to your age and were patched brothers with your blood related one, so, naturally, you all grew up together wreaking havoc all over Charming. Jax and Ope both trusted you, especially when it came down to their kids, and you babysat for Donna and Ope when they needed a night to themselves. Jax didn’t wanna way the burden down on you, but agreed after your convincing argument.

You took on the role as Abel’s guardian when Jax wasn’t around, Gemma even dared to call you his mother once. It shocked you when she did, almost like she hand-picked you to be the mother of her grandson, but you couldn’t be entirely surprised considering the woman played a part in raising you. Of course she approved. She didn’t mention it again, but you knew every time he was in your arms that’s what she thought.

Your job was to care for him. Protect him. And you couldn’t even do that.

You knew Jax blamed you. You knew if Gemma knew she would definitely blamed you, and was most likely planning your murder to look like a suicide. The Club tried to check in on you, but you rarely opened the door. Why would they come to check in on someone that lost their VP’s only son?

Missed calls, voicemails, and unanswered messages had filled up your notifications on your phone. All from your brother and your family of SAMCRO. You couldn’t bare to talk to them. Hell, even look at them without the guilt crushing down on you. You would wake up in the morning and the guilt would appear out of thin air.

After your recollection of the day Abel got kidnapped, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to back to sleep. It was still morning, seven to be exact, and you managed to pull yourself out of bed. You’d gotten dressed after your shower, and made yourself some coffee to start the day.

You haven’t seen or heard from Jax since he showed up at the house with the club, but without Abel. He had passed Hale and his officers with the CSU for Eddie’s body, and locked himself in the nursery. Not once did he come out, leaving the club and yourself to vacate the area to let the father grieve.

It’s been a week, and you knew you needed to visit him. Whether he wanted to see you or not. You grabbed you keys off the counter which had a spare key to Jax’s house, slipped on your shoes by the front door, and rushed out to your car.

You pulled up to the house that only screamed the horrors that’d taken place. You saw the cavalry of bikes lines up in the driveway and on the grass and sidewalk. Sighing, you parked your car in front of the house, leaving room for the bikes when the guys pulled out.

You took hesitant steps up to the porch, reeling over how this confrontation could go with either anyone in the club or the father whose child you lost. Your hand raised up to knock, even though formalities weren’t necessary, but the door swung open before you could and Clay stood behind it.

“You know better then to knock, sweetheart,” He smiled, moving out of the doorway, and inviting you inside.

Swallowing thickly, you forced a smile back and stepped inside the threshold. You suppressed the urge to cry when your eyes landed on the kitchen. A big red stain remained from the attack--from when Eddie was killed. And when Abel was taken.

“Come on,” Clay guided you away and out of the hallway, keeping the kitchen out of your sight, “you don’t need to be looking at that.”

Your brother, Opie, and Chibs emerged from the hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom were. You heard the shower on and saw the wet spots on Opie’s leather jacket and kutte from when he set Jax in the shower to sober him up.

“How is he?” You manged to ask without getting choked up.

“As expected.” Opie answered.

“From what we can tell, he’s been like this since it happened. Cigarette butts and clips everywhere...empty bottles of Jack.” Your brother listed, sympathy for his brother coating his features, as did everyone else in the room. The guilt was noticeable on your face, which made your brother shake his head. “It’s not your fault, you know.” 

“Yeah...yeah, it is.” You didn’t give him or anyone else a chance to argue as you backtracked into the kitchen. You paused, staring down the blood stain, then catching sight of the broken patio door that now had a piece of plywood boarded up. Blinking away any thoughts, you moved to the sink and bent down to the cabinet, and grabbed a garbage bag.

You ignored the looks shared behind your back and the stares burning holes into your skull as you headed to the nursery to clean up the mess Jax made from his grief.

As you tied the garbage back closed, you heard someone walk into the room.

“You didn’t have to clean up.” Jax said leaning against the white dresser, watching as you avoided his gaze and fidget with your hands—a tick he picked up on when you were feeling nervous or guilty. He could sense both coming off of you.

“I wanted to.”

“Haven’t seen you.”

“Could say the same.”

You were being short with him. You knew that he noticed. He knew that you knew that he noticed. But you didn’t know how to react with him.

You’d lost his kid. Shouldn’t he be screaming at you right now? Kicking you out of his house?

“They have a lead on Abel,” he told you, making your eyes widen and actually look at him. “I don’t know what it is yet. They’re gonna show me at the Clubhouse. Just thought you deserved to know.”

You scoffed at that. “I didn’t. I don’t.”

“Babe-” He tried to coax you with a nickname only he called you, knowing that you probably blamed yourself for what down. But in his head it wasn’t your fault. It was his. He was Abel’s father, and should’ve known the club life was going to catch up to his family. He shouldn’t have been so naive to believe that he could have both.

After finding his father’s manuscript, he started to see the bigger picture when it came to the club. And his family when it intertwined. Even though the manuscript opened up his eyes, it pissed him off. How could his father write about something like that and then not do a thing to change it? Now he felt like that burden now rested on his shoulders. His father believed he could’ve been the one to save SAMCRO. And he didn’t.

“How can you call me that? How can you even look at me right now?!” Your vision clouded as anger coursed through you. Angry at the man who should’ve been livid with you for failing the one job he trusted you with. “Scream, yell, push me. Do something!”

“I’d never lay my hands on you, (Y/N).” He said in the most serious tone you’ve heard out of his mouth. “I’m not gonna scream at you, or yell.”

“Why not? Why aren’t you pissed? Why?”

“I could ask the same, babe.” He threw back at you, waving his hands at you. He was getting agitated with the fact you weren’t gonna drop it. 

He loved you, and it broke his heart to see you this way. You guys had crossed the boundary line of friendship when you took on the role as Abel’s guardian.(Or at least he did). And as much as no one but Gemma had stated out loud, you stepped in as Abel’s mother. That’s when he fell. Seeing how you acted with Abel, treating him as your own, and that the little boy had seemingly picked you as his mother with the way he acted over you. He my have been just a baby, but Jax had picked up on it. When he would get up in the morning for Abel, the child was of course gleeful to see his daddy, but he looked for you. Jax knew because it was the same look he had on his face when he wanted you, and then once you would step in the room Abel would be jumping for you. The kid once screamed bloody murder in the middle of the Clubhouse when you handed him off to Tig to use the bathroom, once you got back he was placed back in your arm and calmed down. He was definitely a mama’s boy--your boy. 

In a way you did see Abel as your own, but you and Jax weren’t together, and you were just the nanny. Yes, you were family, but regarding Abel you could have passed as his Aunt (Y/N/N). Certainly not his mom. You didn’t want to overstep.

“Why do you want me to yell? Hmm? Why do you want me scream?”

“Maybe, Jackson, because I’m here and he’s not.” You crooked your pointer finger at yourself, pronouncing each word carefully, trying to make him understand it was your fault. Why didn’t he blame you? He did, didn’t he? “I had one job. One fucking job.” For someone who didn’t curse often, it would have come off as a shock, but him seeing you in the distraught state you were in, he anticipated for the unexpected. “Take care of Abel; feed him, change him, protect him. And I couldn’t even do that.” You were shaking your head at yourself; disappointed, ashamed, and angry. “Maybe I want you to be pissed because I lost your goddamn son! You should be yelling! You should be screaming! You should be off your damn rockers right now!” You threw you hands up in exasperation. “Just at the sight of me! You trusted me with his life and I betrayed that trust!” Stepping closer to the blonde, you shoved him in his hard chest, “Come on!” You shoved him again when he made no effort to move. “Come on!” 

You continued to shove him again and again, yet he did nothing but take it. You were only wearing out your energy. Your hits became less forceful as the anger diminished and was gradually replaced with the sorrow you felt for the missing baby you were once responsible for. Thinking about where he could be, who he was with, if he was being fed or had been changed, made your heart grow stiff and heavy. What if he was cold? Or was he overheated? 

Once the tears started falling, they didn’t stop. The silent trail of tears turned into ragged breathing attached to the meltdown you were coming down from. Small sobs crawled up your throat, you attempting and failing at suppressing them. You couldn’t pinpoint when the biker pulled you into his strong arms, but he did. He cradled your head with his hand as you sobbed into his chest, letting his fingers fun through your hair soothingly. 

He managed to keep his own tears at bay, only letting one slip. Between the hole in his heart from Abel’s kidnapping and the tear you were creating from your breakdown, one bypassed the barrier and slowly ran down the tanned skin of his cheek.

When you heart rate fell back down and your breathing became even, you lifted your face from the wet spot you created on his navy blue SAMCRO shirt. “Mm sorry,” you mumbled tiredly. 

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe at your face of the tears that remained.

You fell into a silence as he cleaned your face, the deep concern and empathy written on his face. When he was done, you wiped at the drying stain of the one that fell down his own, and you asked softy, “You don’t blame me?”

“No, I don’t.” He answered. “You did everything you could and ended up getting hurt in the process.” He motioned to the stitches by your temple, they were healing rather quickly and you were able to get them taken out in a couple days. 

“I’m okay. Just a few stitches, Jax.” You brushed off.

“They’re still stitches.” He deadpanned.

“Whatever.” You said dryly, with a roll of your eyes before they met his once again. 

You watched as they flickered down to your lips before back up, as if asking for your permission. You copied his actions, tilting your head up, waiting for him to follow in suit. He slid a hand to the side of your neck, caressing your jaw, and leaning down to press his lips against yours.

His lips were slightly chapped from the dehydration, no doubt. They clashed with your soft ones and it was enough. He was enough. As cliche as is sounded, you could kiss this man forever. He really did live to the many rumors you heard around the Clubhouse from the crow-eaters and sweet-butts. But even they didn’t do him the justice he deserved.The kiss wasn’t aggressive like you imagined kissing him, but it was sweet--passionate, meaningful, and sadly, not as long as you would wanted. But it was enough.

He pulled away, leaving you both breathless and craving for more, but there were more important things at hand. This, whatever this was, would have to wait until Abel was safe and back home where he belonged. You guys would have to resume another time, but you could live with that as long as you got your boy back.

“You did your part. Now I need to do mine.”

You sat at the bar in the clubhouse with Piney, Tig, and Kozik as you patiently waited for the arrival of Jax and others. Jax has called you the night before (around five due to the time difference) that Abel was back where he belonged. The club, Gemma, and Abel were on their way back to Charming first flight this morning on the private jet that belonged to the Oswald's.

Your foot tapped against the bar connecting two legs of the bar stool, nerves obviously taking control, and driving he three men insane.

Tig put his hand on your knee, keeping it from bouncing. “Doll, you need cool it. Take some breaths or somethin’.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, string down into the beer you haven’t touched.

“Hey, it’s okay. He’s safe with his daddy. And they’re gonna walk through that door any minute now.” Piney assured you, messing with the tubing of his oxygen tank, before taking a shot of the whiskey he ordered from the crow-eater, Kelly, behind the bar.

“I know, I know....” you sighed, shifting in your seat. “It’s just...what if he doesn’t remember me?”

Piney reached over for your hand and held it in a firm grasp, but not hurting you. “(Y/N), you took on that boy as your own. A bond between a mother and her child is unbreakable. Biological or not. Family doesn’t end in blood, and it sure as hell don’t start there either. You hear me?”

Your eyes clouded and you patted his hand with your free one. “Yes, sir.”

You felt Kozik, who had gotten from his seat on the opposite side of Tig, rub your back comfortingly.

You all sat there in silence until the sound of bikes rolling into the lot caught the attention of everyone in the Clubhouse. As Tig and Kozik went out to welcome their brothers and Gemma back home, you and Piney stayed seated at the bar. Piney noticed your nerves as soon as the engines were heard. “He’s home. They both are.” 

Nodding slowly at his words, you took a deep breath and reached over for one of his shot glasses that were still full, throwing your head back and allowing the amber liquid to run down your throat into your stomach with a satisfying burn. Once you let it settle and manged to even out your nerves enough, you slammed the small glass back down and made you way out the Clubhouse door.

Gemma was the first one you saw, granted that she was probably on her way to get you. She brought you into a warm and comforting hug. “He’s here, baby, he’s here. He’s okay.” She ran her hand up and down your back as you coughed out a laugh, letting out a sting of genuine ones filled with joy and relief.

Across the lot, Jax was letting the guys who stayed behind to see the baby who had all their hearts on the chopping block. He heard a familiar laugh that always manged to make him smile. His head turned and saw you in Gemma’s arms, a couple tears running down your face as you laughed in relieved joy. Bouncing Abel in his arms, he started striding over to the two women he loved the most.

You looked up, catching the eyes that managed to pierce through you every time he was near. A grin spread across your face, one that you haven’t seen on yourself in a long time. Then your vision zoned in on the bundle in his arms, and the world stopped.

At the sight of the boy you nearly taken on as your own, your eyes filled with tears. A breathless laugh crawled up your throat as your hand came up to cover your mouth in amazement. “Oh, my God.” Gemma rubbed her hand up and down the side of your arm soothingly. He was actually here. Hearing about him was one thing. Seeing him in the flesh was another.

Abel had grown over the weeks of you not seeing him. He’d gotten some meat he needed on his bones, letting you know that he was fed. The lack of bruising and scars (from what you could see) showed that he had not been harmed. He was clean and wearing his baby blue reaper beanie from SAMCRO on his little head.

“Look, son,” Jax spoke in a small voice, “it’s mommy.”

Mommy?

The look on your face made the VP break out in a smile. Abel turned, and at the sight of you he squealed in happiness, little gurgles making their way out of his mouth. You sobbed as the little boy reached one of his hands out to you.

Your feet guided you to the two, using your thumb to rest in the palm of Abel’s hand, and him gripping it for dear life. You couldn’t contain the tears anymore. “Hey, baby. I missed you so much.” Jax adjusted the boy so he could put him in your arms. You sighed in content; finally feeling whole again with Abel in your arms. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jax brought you into his side, wrapping one arm around your waist, and using the other to cradle Abel’s head. Placing a kiss at your temple and one on his son’s forehead, he finally felt peace after all the shit that’s been hitting him. This is what peace felt like; having his family enveloped up in his arms.

He wasn’t planning on letting either of you go anytime soon.

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

#jackson teller #jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #samcrow #soa #soa imagine #soa one shot #jackson teller x reader #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy #samcro #soa x reader #jax teller x you

[cafeinthemoon]

From the Human Heart - Chapter III

Chapter: 3/4

Wordcount: 2905

Title: The Lamb and the Knife

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols: ⭕ . ➕ . 💛 . ▶️▶️

Warning (s): Mental breakdown, mental instability (one occurrence in the beginning of the chapter)

N. A.: I confess I was a bit afraid that this chapter ended up too sad or depressing during reader's return to the village, because what she sees there is something that could break anyone's spirit, and with her things are not different. However this story has a happy ending, so I guess I can make up for it 😅 Also, I was planning to finish the story in this chapter, but the text ended up being too long, so I had to add a fourth chapter. I usually avoid establishing a number of chapters in my wips because they always get longer than I plan, but this one should be a short story (guess I failed in this smh)

A shiver ran all over your body and woke you up in an instant.

You didn’t open your eyes yet, but you knew you were lying on something cold, having your cloak to protect you from the chilling breeze of the morning. Morning? Something was telling you that it was morning already. Well, in that case… when did you fall asleep? What happened to you while you were not awake?

The rustling noise of the leaves was heard when you moved on your spot, your right arm aching after spending a long time in the same position. You opened your eyes at last and found a gray, autumnal day around you, the fainting light barely breaking through the dense top of the trees. All you could see was brown, red and yellow, as expected. Fortunately, winter hasn’t reached you yet.

That was strange, to be honest. Why would you think you’ve spent more than one night in that place, long enough to not see the change of seasons?

You sat on the forest’s ground and checked your own state. Everything was in its place: your dress, with the slit in the cleavage made by the King of Curses; the cut in your cloak’s stripe was still there, but the stripe was tied up again around your neck, a bit tighter; your empty bag was on the ground, serving as a pillow in that wild, improvised bed. Was it you that arranged things this way? Was it him? You didn’t know, and you didn’t think that finding out the truth would bring you any comfort.

In an urge to make sure you were alright, you opened your cleavage and checked your skin in the spot touched by Sukuna to seal the pact. There was no stain, no wound, no mark there; you weren’t feeling pain, burning or ache. Nothing changed in it. Of course not, you old yourself: what he did was an enchantment to change your soul, not your body. Any change that could come from it would not be visible to the eye.

With effort, you took your bag and stood up. You shook the leaves and tugs off your dress and cloak and took a second look at your surroundings. That was the same clearing in which you met Sukuna, and you were lying among the roots of the same tree you stopped at to read the sentences of the ritual.

The clearing didn’t seem so large and mysterious now that you were seeing it under the day light. It was silent, unlike the moment when you found it, full of sounds of night birds and small predators rushing their paws through the leaves, out of your sight. All that life was now gone, as if it has never existed.

A blow of cold wind twirled and passed by you before you could see where it came from, carrying leaves and dust with it. You took it was a sign to leave, as if it was saying to you that there was nothing there but death and oblivion. You protected your eyes and once the column of dust moved away, you ran out of that place.

You didn’t know how you managed to run through the same way that brought you to that cursed forest without ending up breathless, aching and out of your mind. Your feet were carried down through its declined territory, full of traps and roots, not stumbling in a single one of them, nor your clothing were ripped or got stuck while you ran.

To you, you’ve been running forever: the more you moved forward, the more the scenario around you looked the same. Was it part of the enchantment or were you just tired, eager to return to your village and see the results of the treaty?

You relied on this latter and continued to move.

***

The village, seen from the high spot of the hill, was the same since you left it. Not that you should expect something else – you were changed, nor your old home. Besides, you couldn’t have left for so long. But it felt like years in your heart, and the night before landed as a dream in your memory now. You adjusted the hood upon your head and tightened your grip around your cloak: the cold breeze ran free without the trees to obstruct it and you wanted to protect yourself; and, despite your trust in the results of the enchantment, you still had no ways to know exactly who were going to see you or not, so that you didn’t want to expose yourself before you had the chance to explore the territory.

Well, when you were reaching the lowest spot of the hill you were left with minimal choices regarding this.

A commotion was happening at the village’s entry, not so far from the place you where standing: a group of people stared with desperation to two or three men who you recognized as members of the Jujutsu council, the ones your father used to refer as his closest allies among them; these men were trying, with great effort, to contain a man who screamed incomprehensible words in a harsh, animalistic voice and scaring the villagers. The man was dressed in the same traditional clothing of the sorcerers, but all the noble aspect of it was gone, replaced with rips and blood as if its owner was kept locked inside a cage and tried everything in his reach to escape it, fighting with people and weapons.

Your blood ran cold in your veins when you recognized the insane man as your father.

After that, it was like your ears were uncovered and you started to understand what he and the other men were saying. They were arguing under a case of thievery: a treasure has vanished from the Jujutsu collection at your father’s house; the masters were convinced that the responsible for the crime was now far away from the village and must have been a clever Jujutsu sorcerer since they managed to deceive all of them, including your father; however, they were confused by the story your father was telling.

Between one growl and another, this was what you could understand from his speech.

- I know exactly who did this! My daughter did this! My own daughter! And I will hunt her till the end of the world!

His own daughter. You.

Your feet stepped back in an unconscious urge to run, but somehow you stood to listen to the rest. You immediately understood the agitation among the Jujutsu masters: the treasure that disappeared was the flower, without which they could not stand a chance against its true owner. Without the jewel, all the lies told by them and their leader were going to be brought to the surface and the whole village was going to pay for their dishonesty.

But none of this has hit you like the realization that your father was talking about you, that he still remembered about you and was willing to come after you to recover the jewel.

And that the situation was not the same to anyone among the people around him.

- Please, enough with this nonsense, master y/sn! – one of the sorcerers was saying, struggling to hold the furious man by his arm.

- Enough with this! – a second man shouted with less patience – You have no daughter! You’ve never had!

Yes, it wasn’t that surprising that the elders couldn’t see you – they never hid their distaste towards you, the greatest obstacle to their ascension in your Jujutsu society. But you didn’t take too long to notice that they weren’t the only ones who have forgotten about you: the entire village has, or at least all the people who were at your sight, some of them known to you for years. Some of them you yourself used to love and respect, and have trusted with your life in the worst moments of your relationship with your father – people you could swear to love you back.

Could it be that you, known by your connection with the most important sorcerer of the village, was an unpleasant presence to them as much as your father must have been? Could it be that they only tolerated you because of him?

A tear rolled down your left cheek, dried by the cold wind that passed at that moment, strong enough to take off the hood of your head. You still weren’t sure of what was more painful: to realize that your father was the only one who remembered you or to see that not even the people you liked were able to reciprocate you just enough to not forget you after an enchantment.

Something died inside you while you saw that. So you just put your hood back and turned your back on your old home, restarting your way up the hill again and hurrying up before your father noticed your presence.

***

It wouldn’t make a great difference if you decided to stay in that forest if the next night reached you there, for you had nowhere to come back as much as you had no place to go to. You were no longer on a hurry: running up that hill twice in so little time has taken the remaining energy in your body and your spirit, so you started walking; if you were passing by the same paths you’ve crossed before, you didn’t know and didn’t care.

To say you were walking was too much. Your legs were shaking, and your numb feet were stumbling even before reaching the obstacles; your hands were doing their best to hold on to the branches and any other support they were able to find, since you couldn’t count on your eyes to guide you: you hadn’t go blind, but you weren’t seeing anything in your way. Your attention was all in what you just witnessed, not in what you had in front of you.

It was as if you just died and had the opportunity to come back to see how the people you knew were dealing with your absence. If you were honest to yourself, you would have already accepted that what you saw wasn’t unexpected at all; still, it wasn’t something that you could completely understand until it happened to you.

At some dense spot of the grove you stopped, despite not having any hopes of finding some rest. You held tight on a low branch to not fall of exhaustion and concentrated on your breath. It was when you noticed you didn’t sense the expected harshness of wood while touching its surface.

You looked at your hand and screamed – your skin, exposed until your fist, was blue. Blue, but not just as a way to say it was cold: it was indeed blue, as a frozen lake reflecting the winter sky. You stepped back as if that was the hand of a stranger, but it followed you and obeyed all your commands, not letting any space for doubts; it belonged to you. You turned it to see its back and noticed variations in the blue, stains of a darker shade, and saw that your nails were now indigo, all of them in a sharp shape, just like…

Just like Sukuna’s nails. A curse’s nails.

You gasped at the memory of his warning. This was what supposed to happen in case you didn’t accept the result of the enchantment. You looked again at your palms and saw no cut nor wound that the branches could cause to a human’s delicate skin – yours were intact, as expected from a resistant curse’s body part. You rolled up your dress’ sleeves to see if your arms were blue as well and observed in horror as the slow transformation reached them.

You adjusted the sleeves and stopped looking. There was no use in desperation. You adjusted the cloak around you and crossed your arms around yourself, accepting the punishment.

- For someone who was so determined just one day before, you do not seem so happy now… child.

His voice grew from the depths of the forest and reached you as if it vibrated by its own will, shaking every nerve you had in you, waking you up to the darkness of your new reality.

You turned to find the King of Curses in the middle of the clearing, just like the first time you’ve met, but now the day was still there above you, with no sign of the red shadows of the summoning. That could only mean one thing: he hasn’t left after the treaty; instead, he remained in those lands, perhaps observing you while you were unconscious or waiting for the next events in the village to take place.

Having him witnessing your downfall in all its bitter details disgusted you in a way you didn’t think to be possible. Still, you found strength to give him a verbal response.

- Haven’t you had enough fun by now? – and after a gasp – Why are you still here?

Sukuna shrugged, not even a little upset by your hostile reception.

- I was just passing by and happened to meet you again – he raised an eyebrow –I am surprised to see that you are still here, to be honest. I thought you have left these lands yesterday. This is the reason why you wanted the enchantment, is not it?

Before you could formulate an answer, he approached and lowered his four eyes to your hands; you clenched your fists and tried to hide them behind your back as a last attempt to save your dignity, but your move was ignored by him, who passed his hands around you and brought yours to his sight, examining their skin with simulated preoccupation. You gave up on any attempt to pull them back: though there was no harshness in the way he was holding them, you knew he had enough strength to break them in such case, or cut them off with the same easiness he has cut the stripe of your cloak or the lock of your hair.

- So it is happening already? – he frowned while caressing them with his thumbs, speaking more to himself than to you – So soon…

- Soon?! – you spat the word – Are you telling me you deceived me?!

Sukuna’s gaze turned to you in surprise at this accusation.

- What do you mean, brat?

- I gave you back the jewel my father stole from you and didn't ask for anything near its price in return, and yet look at me now!

- You knew that I was going to… that this was going to happen to me anyway… is this what you’re telling me, right?

- Hm?

His carefree manners were making you more and more furious and desperate.

- What did I do for you to deceive me like this?!

- Who said I deceived you? – he sighed – I thought you were smarter than this, dear. I was honest with you in our whole treaty. The seal was established according to the rules and the enchantment worked as well. Otherwise you would not have noticed any difference or, in a worst hypothesis, you would have died in the process. Well, not even I would be here in such case. If I broke the rules, I would be punished. You must know that.

You fell silent. That was true: in the Jujutsu world, if two individuals established a pact, both of them were under the obligation to respect the rules of the said pact, otherwise they would be punished – with death in the case of a human and with exorcism in the case of a curse. Still, you were convinced that something was wrong with your own deal.

- It cannot be…

You felt your eyes burning, full with tears that you weren’t able to contain. The weight of what you have done has reached you at last, and from it you couldn’t escape. But were you capable of carrying it? You doubted that.

You felt his hand wiping the tears of your cheek.

- Shhh… No more whining, dear – he lifted your chin to make you meet his gaze – Now, tell me what is going on... What is it that is upsetting you so much regarding the enchantment?

You were impatient, of course, but didn't offer any resistance. You spoke all at once before your voice could crack in a new burst of desperation.

- I came back to the village and found out that the only person who was able to see me was my father. No one else remembers me. And this situation made him insane… – you sobbed – Tell me, how is this possible?!

He giggled and assumed the tone of a Jujutsu teacher.

- You want me to confirm what you are not willing to tell yourself even in thoughts? Alright. I think I can do this for you. You know the rules as well as I do. If someone does not love you, they will forget about your existence. If they do, they will remember you, whether they are the only one in this case or not – and then, he had nothing for you now besides the logical conclusion of the case – So, if your father is the only one who can see you now… He must be the only one who loves you.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x y/n

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (8)

Warnings: hoo boi.

Word Count: 2k 

"Y/n?" Chan gently shook your shoulder. "Come on baby, you've got to wake up."

You peeled your eyes open, cheeks flushing as you noticed how close Chan's face was to yours.

"Good, you're awake. Listen...I've got to go to the airport and pick up my parents, and your mom was blowing up your phone just a few minutes ago." The corner of his lips twitched in amusement as your phone started vibrating. "Well, there she goes again. Sounds important, you should answer." He straightened up, handing you your phone and heading to the kitchen. "I’ll be making breakfast."

You smiled as he left, expression dropping as you answered your phone.

"Yes, mom...?"

"Oh! My baby! Thank god you answered, finally...I'm so sorry about last night, darling..."

"It's oka-"

"No it wasn't! I'm a terrible mother. I'm sorry, it's just, he was so hot, and I was super intoxicated. We're going to go on a second date! Whose place did you stay at, by the way? A boy answered the phone earlier." She asked, her tone dripping with suggestiveness. You could almost see her wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ew, gross, mom! He's just a friend." You said as Chan came back into the room with a plate of waffles, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, darling, whatever you say. Although I'm certainly not opposed to you getting laid, it was long overdue anyw-"

"Haha okay, bye mom!" You cut the call, shuddering as Chan giggled, passing you the plate.

"Just a friend? Do friends kiss each other the way we did last night?"

"Shut up." You smiled, digging into your waffles.

***

You watched Chan's car leave as he left for the airport, standing there until he became a speck in the distance before turning around to enter your house.

You found your mom sitting on the couch...but this time, she wasn't passed out with drool running down her chin and clutching a bottle of beer- she was sitting with an odd sense of poise, wearing a pretty summer dress and a huge smile.

"Y/n! You're home! How was your night?" She grinned, winking. You narrowed your eyes, her cheerfulness catching you off guard. Your gaze drifted to the table, on which rested some plates and two empty wine glasses.

"Nowhere near as good as yours." You said pointedly, tearing your gaze away from the table as you moved to go upstairs.

Flopping on your bed, you scrolled through your text messages. Nothing new from Chan. You sighed, reminding yourself that there was probably no Wi-Fi at the airport.

Suddenly your phone dinged with a new text message. Oh. A response to your tutor ad. You'd put it up a long while ago and had honestly forgotten all about it. Well, you definitely needed the extra money. You replied affirmatively to the text and tossed your phone next to you on the mattress.

***

It had been a while since Chan had had dinner with the boys. The conversation was light, and he had missed his friends..however he found himself missing you more, despite having seen you that morning.

"Minho, I don't know how you get away with making out with her in the hallway. I can barely hold hands with my girlfriend without some teacher giving us detention-"

Chan looked up as Felix shoved Changbin's arm, making him stop mid-sentence. Changbin raised an eyebrow, realization dawning on him.

"Ah sorry, Chan. I didn't mean to rub it in."

"Seriously, though." Jisung rolled his eyes. "It's been weeks, and you aren't any closer to getting that book. I hate to say it bro, but I don't think Miyoung would want to be with you even if Minho breaks up with her."

Hyunjin nodded, glancing up from his phone. "I've noticed her and Y/n are really buddying it up. It's girl code not to date your friend's ex."

"Of course, you're the expert on girl code, Hyunjin."

A small squabble broke out and Chan wanted to slither onto the floor and just...stay there. He glared at his plate, deciding he’d had enough.

"Stop it!”

Jisung and Hyunjin stopped talking, staring at Chan in surprise.

"I will get that book soon. I love Miyoung, and I'll make sure she's mine, through any means possible. I don’t care about your opinions, so you guys can just shut the fuck up." He hated lying through his teeth, but there was no way he was going to tell these judgmental burdens he called his friends that he loved you- at least not yet.

Chan relished the silence as he continued eating, trying his best to ignore Minho's burning, inquisitive gaze directed right at him.

***

You sat in bed, clutching your blue book as you tapped your pencil, your head filled with thoughts of Chan. In all your 17 years of life, you'd never known what love felt like...but now you did. And as a result, you were completely consumed with the burning need to tell Chan exactly how you felt.

When you'd moved to this town, you really hadn't expected for it to one day feel like home. But it did, and you were sure it was all because of Chan. His presence somehow made you feel safe, and protected, and you hadn't felt this secure since your dad left you.

You wanted- no, you needed to know if Chan felt the same way about you. You pushed the self-doubt deep inside as you imagined telling him.

You turned red just thinking about it. Fuck it, you were too shy. You'd be a blubbering mess two words in.

Sighing, you looked back down at your book...when an idea struck in your head.

Uncapping your pen with your teeth, you placed the nib on the paper and inhaled, letting all your feelings flow out onto the page. It felt kind of cliché, writing a love letter like this, but you always did have a tendency to over-romanticize everything.

Besides; it was more of a love poem. Gah, was that worse? You hoped to god he wouldn't find it cheesy, especially since you'd bared your heart to him with these words. As you finished, your eyes ran over the last sentence. 

"If you feel the same, please meet me behind the tree near the lake, where we had our first conversation, and where I started falling for you."

You shut the book and placed it on your bedside table, flicking the lamp off and rolling over. You nuzzled your pillow, your mind drifting to last night, the memory of Chan's lips and body pressed against yours still fresh.

***

It was a bit early to be having an ice cream date, but neither of you could honestly care less. As soon as you'd woken up in the morning, Chan had texted you to meet him at the ice cream parlour near his house.

"I can't believe you like salted caramel. Its such an old person flavor." He laughed, staring at you fondly.

"Like mint chocolate is any better." You rolled your eyes.

"Fine fine, let's just accept we have different tastes in ice cream."

You smiled. "That I can get on board with."

There was a comfortable silence as the two of you ate. You glanced up from time to time, your heart pounding as you psyched yourself up. Come on, this was the moment. You can do it, Y/n.

"Hey, Chan...?"

"Mm?" He asked, pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Uh...are you free tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, I'm playing soccer with the guys. You could come watch, though."

"Oh no, I have a tutoring appointment in the evening." You muttered.

Chan quirked his eyebrow. "Why'd you ask in the first place, then?"

"Uh, I just wanted to know. I mean-" You groaned, letting out an exasperated sigh. Bending down, you grabbed your bag from the floor and put it on your lap.

Confused, Chan watched as you pulled out your book, the book, swallowing. Slowly, you slid it over to him.

"I...what's this?" Chan asked as nonchalantly as he could, running a hand through his hair.

"It's...kind of my diary. I just-" you inhaled. "Look, I've bookmarked a page. When you go home- and please don't open it before then- read what I've written." You gulped, as Chan didn't make any move to take the book.

"Look, Y/n, I-"

"Please, just take it. Don't ask any questions." You looked down, trying to hide your flushed cheeks, trying to calm the beating of your heart.

Chan sighed, fingers reaching out and slowly curling over the book as he took it into his hands, tucking it into his pocket as you let yourself smile.

"Thank you."

***

Huh. This was definitely not what you'd been expecting. The house was a lot smaller than you'd imagined it to be, especially knowing how much you were charging.

You breathed in and came forward, knocking on the door and waiting. A few minutes later, a young girl opened it.

"Hi! Are you Dea?"

"How do you know that?" She asks, scrunching her nose, her hand gripping the handle tightly. "Mom says not to talk to strangers."

You shook your head quickly before she could close the door. "Sweetheart, I'm your tutor."

"Prove it."

You sighed, straightening and looking past her. "Is your mom here?"

The girl paused for a second before shaking her head, moving to slam the door closed, when a woman showed up from behind the corner.

"Oh good, it's the tutor!" The woman placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smiling at you. "Come in, Y/n. I've actually got someplace to be, but I'll be back in two hours. I assume you'll be done by then?"

"Yeah, most probably." You smiled and let her take you in, leading you to Dea's bedroom. The girl herself followed cautiously, and you found yourself a little amused.

"Right, this is her desk." The mom ran a hand through her hair, gesturing to the table. She glanced at her watch and swore, shooting you an apologetic glance.

"In sorry Y/n, I've got to get going soon- please focus on her maths, it's really bad. We'll discuss your fees and other logistics when I get back, okay?" She smiled at you, waving at her daughter before hurrying out the door.

You watched her leave, frowning slowly as she walked away. Something was niggling away at the back of your mind. Why did she look so familiar?

Turning back to the girl, you sighed inwardly at her knitted eyebrows and scowl. She was avoiding your stare, fiddling with her pencil and muttering under her breath.

This was going to be tough.

***

Minho sighed, watching Miyoung wave from the bleachers. Fuck, it was like she was physically incapable of giving him some fucking space.

He glanced over to Chan, clad in his uniform as he chugged water from the bottle Felix handed to him. When was this asshole going to get that fucking book? He couldn't stand having to date Miyoung any longer.

As the girl blew him an exaggerated kiss, Minho decided he had had enough. Needing to be alone, he turned around and went to the locker room. Just a moment to breathe, that was all he was asking for.

As Minho entered the cool, air-conditioned locker room, he let out a sigh of relief. He went over to sit one of the benches, planning to rest in solitude for just a few minutes... until he noticed Chan's clothing lying on one.

His shirt and jeans were carelessly strewn on the seat, and Minho narrowed his eyes as a flash of blue caught his eye, almost immediately.

Peeking out from the pocket was a very familiar looking little blue book.

He came closer, slowly pulling the book out and inspecting it. Could it be? The bastard had your book all along? Opening it, he flipped through the pages with a smirk slowly growing on his face. Yup, it was yours.

It was like the gods were smiling down on him, finally.

#chan series #chan smut #chan fluff #chan angst #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #minho smut #felix fluff #felix angst #minho angst #lee know angst #skz smut #skz fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #skz angst

[halcyonstorm]

my contest submission for LH drabble week! @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë, Kuchel Ackerman Additional Tags: Sick Levi Ackerman, Leukemia, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Accidents, Doctor Hange Zoë, Angst, Slight OOC, sorry Series: Part 9 of Short Fics Summary:

Hange and Levi were separated for several years for reason they couldn't help. They finally found each other.

At just 18 years old, Levi received the worst news of his life. He was sick. Extremely sick. If someone even coughed or breathed on him, he could die. He had leukemia, a disease which attacks the body’s white blood cells. Our white blood cells are our guardians, protecting us from any infection that dares to enter. He had one friend he wanted to tell the most: his best friend Hange. She had been his friend since the beginning of high school. He didn’t like her at first, but she kept showing up, eager to be his friend. He eventually warmed up to her, allowing her to sit with him at lunch, hang out after class; soon, they were inseparable.

Levi’s heart was in his throat as he mentally prepared to present the life-changing news to his best friend. “Hange, I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice trembling. Hange looked at him funny. He never spoke in such a strange manner before. Hange hesitantly sat in front of him at the empty desk, turning around in the chair to face him.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned. She was starting to get nervous.

“I’m sick,” he began, almost inaudibly. “I have leukemia… I am gonna have to leave school to be in the hospital. I get so weak, and my immune system is absolute shit… I can’t even risk getting a cold, otherwise I can die.”

Hange’s heart sunk into her stomach. She took a deep breath and looked into her lap. She had to be strong for Levi, and she knew that. 

“I’ll be here with you. We can text, call, facetime…”

“Yeah, we can,” he replied.

“We will! I’m your friend,” Hange said, grabbing his hand. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind.”

-

At first, Levi thought he’d be strong enough to withstand the chemotherapy. That he’d be the rare case to have no side effects. Boy, was Levi wrong. After his first two weeks, his health was tanking. It tanked so bad, in fact, that no one was allowed in the room except the doctors and nurses. Hange was one of the only people to call him daily besides his mom. Hange would Facetime him after class, telling him all about her day. Levi never had much to share from his monotonous days of drug infusions and immobilizing fatigue, but he enjoyed listening to Hange’s voice. Over time, Hange began to notice her friend change: His skin became ghostly pale and his words were mumbled. She would show him the blooming flowers in the spring, the fallen leaves in the autumn, the snow in the winter. She would show him anything to distract him from the excruciating pain he suffered each day. 

After a year of chemotherapy treatments, the toxins started to take a toll on his body. He’d find clumps of black hair on his pillow every morning, until one night he insisted his mother shave it all off. Each clump of hair reminded him of the life he should’ve had. Going to class in-person instead of online for the rest of the semester, graduating through a computer screen. He fucking hated it. His physical and mental state began to worsen each week. He was like a walking corpse, sleeping about 16 hours each day. When he was awake, he was wishing he was asleep. Each day he withered away in the hospital bed. He would miss Hange’s calls frequently due to his concerningly deep slumbers. If he managed to pick up, he would fall asleep on the phone with her. Despite her busy school schedule, she found time to text him every day. That is what kept him going.

Every day turned into once a week, which turned into once a month, and soon not at all. He had officially lost touch with the only friend in his life. He felt it was his fault: he had no energy to ever respond to her texts. He couldn’t blame her. She did try. Alone in his hospital room staring at his old texts from her, his heart ached and tears spilled down his face.

Another year had passed when his doctor came into his shabby hospital room with a look of hope. Levi felt his heart begin to race. 

“Levi, we have some good news and some bad news,” He began, shutting the door behind him. He wore a bright yellow gown with a blue face mask and latex gloves. “The good news is, your white blood cell levels are elevated. This is an improvement compared to last month’s tests. Since they’re higher, you’re well enough to receive a bone marrow transfusion from your mother, who’s a perfect match. The bad news is, there are many risks to having this transfusion. Your body can reject the bone marrow, which may cause massive complications. However, I think it is best for you to get the transplant. It is your best hope for overcoming this disease.”

With no hesitation, Levi agreed. Let’s do this thing.

He tried to reach out to Hange to tell her the news, but after a week with no response, he was disheartened. A part of him hoped she would respond. He had his family, and for that he was forever grateful, but who would he have once he left the hospital? Who would he talk to? Who would he be? He completely lost the miniscule amount of social skills he had. He did make friends with some of the patients on his floor. Unfortunately, he outlived most of them. 

Fortunately for Levi, the transplant was a success. Within the next few months, he began to regain the color in his face, and hair started to sprout on his head again. He was sleeping less frequently, he was finally able to do a lap around the hospital floor without getting too tired. He was still on chemotherapy, but he was regaining his strength, and more importantly, he was getting his life back.

Levi was in (and rarely out of) the hospital almost four years. The day he was discharged for good was a beautiful spring day. The stale air became fresh as he exited the hospital in a wheelchair. He heard the bright green trees rustling and saw some beautiful pink flowers that reminded him of Hange. He took everything for granted until he was cooped up in a hospital room for years. He was grateful to Hange for being his eyes to the outside world. He felt a breeze run through his buzz cut. He took a deep breath, tears helplessly streaming down his face. He was finally free. 

It wasn’t long before Levi started searching for his long lost friend. He hated himself for forgetting how to spell her name. Was it Hanje, Hangi, or Hange? He couldn’t quite remember. He searched her name and was shocked to find out Hange was a medical student practicing at Shinganshina General Hospital. Shinganshina General wasn’t far, so she must still live in the area. He couldn’t, however, find any of her social media accounts. She was off-the-grid. Great… he thought. She was always difficult. He was one to talk, though. He hasn't used social media in years.

Throughout the summer, Levi was able to land a job as a mechanic and he worked endlessly. He had to repay the debt he placed his parents in. His mother especially hated the idea of him working just as he finished his treatments, but Levi was persistent. Eventually, he saved enough money to send monthly deposits to his mom and move out. He couldn’t have his mom taking care of him anymore after all she sacrificed for him. He had made enough money on his own to afford a cheap apartment two blocks away from her house. 

After getting settled, Levi told himself he couldn’t begin college without knowing about Hange’s whereabouts. He decided maybe if he drove to Shinganshina city, he would be able to find her somehow. Someone ought to know her… He got in his car one evening, punched in a diner’s address in Shinganshina, and started to drive. As he drove, he started to realize his plan was stupid. What, am I gonna stalk her at the hospital?

 After finishing a 10-hour shift at the shop, he impulsively drove past his block and hit the highway. The highways were ruthless that Friday night. He had never been to Shinganshina before on his own. He drove, hovering his head over the steering wheel with his elbows tightly tucked to his sides. The speed limit signs read “65 MPH''; however, everyone was quickly steering around him, going way over 75. He was very tempted to turn around in spite of his impetuous road trip; but he couldn’t find an opportunity to do so.

On the other side of the road, the two lines merged into one. One of the drivers did not recognize this, and suddenly swerved onto the other side of the road where Levi was driving. Perhaps if Levi didn’t work so hard that day, there was a slight chance it could’ve been avoidable. The last thing he saw were bright fluorescent headlights before he was knocked unconscious.

-

“We checked his driver’s license. His name is Levi Ackerman, age 22, victim of a head-on vehicle collision. He was wearing his seatbelt and had an airbag. He may have suffered a SCI and concussion. His heart and lung sounds are normal although his sternum and ribs may be broken,” A paramedic announced as they wheeled the unconscious man through the glass doors of the emergency room. 

“Get him up to imaging. We need to do a MRI, CAT scan, and x-ray STAT!” the doctor replied, taking her stethoscope to listen to his chest. She recognized the man right away but allowed her feelings to be suppressed for that crucial moment. Of course she recognized this man. He was her long lost friend, after all.

After finishing the tests, Levi was brought to a hospital room where he was changed into a hospital gown. Dr. Hange Zoe and Dr. Erwin Smith discussed the results: MRI showed signs of a concussion; CAT scan showed no signs of hemorrhaging; x-ray showed a cracked sternum and ribs 4 and 5 were broken. No signs of broken extremities, however he presented with ecchymosis on the bony prominences, such as his hips, knees, and collarbones.

As Levi awoke about two hours later, groaning loudly.

“My chest!” he complained, finding it hard to move. The two doctors turned around to find the patient had regained consciousness.

“Hello, Levi,” Dr. Smith began. “You were in a car accident. You’re at Shinganshina General Hospital. I am Dr. Erwin Smith, and this is my intern, Dr. Hange Zoe.” Levi’s eyes widened when he announced her name. 

“H-Hange…” he whispered, attempting to sit up but failing. Dr. Smith placed his hand gingerly on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to sit up. Just relax. How is your pain? We can give you some medication.”

“It’s fucking horrible. Please,” He whimpered, grimacing. Dr. Smith nodded, leaving the room. Hange immediately grabbed a chair, sitting next to her patient, but more importantly her friend.

“Levi, dammit what happened?” She said softly, looking at him. His face was not scratched, it was just the rest of his body that was injured.

“What happened to you?!” He retorted, looking her in the eyes. She could tell he was hurt, not just physically. “So much for not losing you...” 

“I was texting you as much as I could, Levi,” she explained, feeling guilty. “I had lost my phone and got a new one, but I couldn’t remember your number. I tried to find you online but I couldn’t… I am so sorry.” She hesitantly grabbed his hand. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he squeezed her hand.

“I was too sick to reply,” he said. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not-” A knock rang on the door and Hange stood up almost on cue. 

“On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?” She asked, switching the topic.

“A big fat 10,” he groaned. Dr. Smith wheeled in an electronic machine with a wire and handle attached.

“This is a patient-controlled analgesia pump. You can push it as many times as you’d like to help alleviate your pain. You will not overdose since it has a set amount of medication you can receive per hour. Also, we have some acetaminophen for you.” Levi downed the pills as soon as it was handed to him. Dr. Smith hooked the tubing up to his IV and handed him the button.

“Hange, gather your information on your patient and then meet with me in the conference room.” Dr. Smith left the room, Hange hesitantly looking at her friend again.

“Let me just do a quick physical assessment,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her pen light. As she did her assessment, he admired her. Being a doctor really did suit her. She was wearing a white lab coat with her name embroidered into it. As she would move his gown around to assess his heart and lung sounds, his breath hitched when he felt the tips of her fingers touch his bruised chest. He looked at her face as she worked. She simultaneously looked the same and different. Different in how she wore her hair, in the shape of her glasses, and she stood taller, more confidently. Same in her eyes never losing their sparkle, her focused pouty face, as well as her smile. That breathtaking smile never changed.

Once she finished, she cleaned off her materials and tucked them away.

“Levi, you’ll be kept at the hospital overnight to monitor your heart on the EKG. If you are able to walk in the morning, you will be discharged. Do you have anyone you can call?”

He thought of his mother. He thought of the burden he crushed her with. He decided to deal with this on his own.

“I live alone,” he replied, looking towards the foot of the bed.

“I can stay with you,” She offered instantly. Levi’s face flushed as he met her eyes. “I-I mean… if you want! You have a concussion. You can’t drive yourself or be left alone.”

“Isn’t that like… against the rules?”

“...I am not working tomorrow. I can pick you up and we’ll go from there. Since you won’t be in the hospital for long, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” The corners of Levi’s mouth curled upwards.

“That is fine with me. Let’s do it.”

The next day, Levi was able to do a lap around the hospital floor. He walked around with one of the nurses to make sure he didn’t collapse. He was ready to go home. Correction: He was ready to go home with Hange.

Hange went to his hospital room in her normal clothes. Her style changed. She used to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans. She looked more mature in her white button-up top and black slacks. He had to prevent his mouth from opening when he saw her. She was beautiful, but of course he would never mention it. Hange walked down to the entrance of the hospital with the nurse and Levi. She went to get her car. A few minutes later, she arrived in her dark red Honda.

“Levi, you just have to direct me to your house…” She began, tapping at the car’s GPS. He gave the address and she punched it in.

“Hange? Why are you doing this for me?” He asked, almost by accident. She shifted the car into Drive.

“I… never stopped thinking about you, you know,” She began, driving away from the hospital. “Even though we lost touch, I still hoped to meet you again someday. You are the reason I wanted to be a doctor… and whenever I lost hope, I thought of you. Whether you know it or not, you pushed me to keep going.” He looked at her blushing face.

He was shocked by what she said. He felt the same. “Me too,” he confessed, looking in his lap. “Your calls saved my life. You were the only one who stuck around. I will never forget that.”

He was never one to say what he meant, but knowing he had the courage to speak those words to her, Hange felt a strong urge to kiss his lips. She always had feelings for him. Her feelings never changed, despite their time apart. In fact, it only confirmed her feelings for him even more.

“Even before I was hospitalized, I took everything for granted…” Levi said. “I have been wanting to tell you something ever since my diagnosis…” Hange felt her heart skip a beat as he spoke. 

“Thank you for being there for me.”

At the red light, Hange looked at him and squeezed his hand firmly. She noticed his cheeks were dusted with a red blush. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” 

He met her eyes, those radiant hazel eyes. He took advantage of the long stoplight to kiss the woman’s lips. He couldn’t contain his feelings anymore. He swore he’d tell her how much he meant to him one of these days. And God, her lips were soft and velvety and everything he’d imagined they’d be, but ten times better. She was shocked at first, but kissed him back. His lips were a little chapped from his rough night, but they were warm. She dreamt of this moment for years (as did he). It was better than how she thought it’d be too. She was intrigued by the quiet boy in school ever since she met him. Maybe she thought he’d lack passion, but it was the opposite. The kiss was full of passion and relief; after years of being in love with each other from a distance, they melted into each other. Suddenly, there was a beep behind her; the light had turned green. Hange chuckled, starting to drive again.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

#i hope this is not confusing... #also its slightly ooc #sorry #levihan #levihan fic #levihan angst #levi x hange #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi x hanji #aot #snk #aot fic #snk fic

[thelibrarbian]

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 2384

Read on Ao3

or below:

---

Movement on the upper floor made Papyrus look up, just in time to see the door to Sans' room open and his brother step out. Sans shuffled up to the banister and leaned against it, looking down into the living room. When his gaze landed on the two skeletons on the couch, his eyebrows shot up, but all he said on the matter was a small "huh".

"did he wake up? thought i heard you guys talking."

"He did - well, somewhat." Papyrus glanced down at Fell, who appeared to be deeply asleep once again. It was less alarming now he knew that Fell wasn't Falling Down, but it was a strange sight nevertheless. He didn't even twitch in response to the talking right next to him, and Papyrus got the distinct impression that he wouldn't stir even if somebody broke down the door and started supplexing the couch. He made sure to keep his voice low anyway. "But I think he will be alright." Eventually. "For now, I suppose he has earned his rest."

Sans gave a vague hum of agreement, leaning heavily against the railing.

Papyrus looked his brother up and down, frowning slightly. "Sans… I know this is a rare thing for me to encourage, but I think you, too, should try to sleep a little. It's still the middle of the night, and while I may not need to nap for such an excessive amount of time, I do believe you're used to your eight hours of snoozing."

Sans chuckled and shook his head before pushing himself back from the banister.  "eh, it's fine." He began to shuffle down the stairs. "you keep telling me i should find hobbies other than napping, right?"

Papyrus raised an eyebrow. "That may be true, and far be it from me to curb your enthusiasm! But maybe we should postpone these plans to a time when you don't look like you're going to pass out standing up?" His quota for passed out skeletons this night was already filled.

"you mean i look bone tired?" Sans winked.

Papyrus let out a huff. "Do not attempt to distract me with your perpetual punning! That one was low even by your standards." He sighed. "But I suppose I can't be too hard on you today. How is Red?"

"still sleeping." Sans reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the banister. "and snoring like a chainsaw, that's why my napping's on hold."

Instead of pointing out that Sans usually had no trouble falling asleep even in the noisiest environments, Papyrus waved his brother over. He couldn't exactly give him a hug with Fell on his lap, so he settled for the closest alternative, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Sans raised an eyebrow. "you okay, bro? i mean, i'm not complaining about unprompted cuddles, but…"

Papyrus straightened himself. "Of course! I, the Great Papyrus, master of first aid and healing magic, am perfectly fine!"

Sans didn't look entirely convinced, which was absurd - after all, what reason did Papyrus have to not be okay? Everything was fine. Or would be fine very soon. No, Papyrus was more concerned about his brother - and he would have asked if he really was alright, but he already knew the question would just be shrugged off with another pun.

Setting that aside, though, there were currently two unconscious skeletons in their house, and even though everything was certainly going to be just fine, their unexpected guests would need something to help them recover both health and magic when they woke up. He shared the thought with his brother. "And as much as I would love to volunteer my culinary expertise, I am a little stuck here at the moment," he added. "So if you don't mind lending a hand again…"

"i gotcha, bro." Sans pat Papyrus' hand that was still on his shoulder. "and by that i mean, i'd get grillby's, but-"

Papyrus sighed. "But it's two in the morning," he finished the sentence for him. Grillby, too, belonged to the majority of monsters that slept at night, and therefore couldn't keep his establishment open around the clock. "Fortunately, because I can not in good conscience subject our guests to anything that comes out of that greasehole."

Sans chuckled faintly. "hey, you did like the milkshakes last time."

"The milkshakes are an exception! And do not distract from the issue at hand, brother! No Grillby's! You will need to make do with what we have. Such as…" Papyrus paused, mentally going through the contents of the fridge. Which was a rather small selection, now that he thought about it. Had he known that they would have visitors tonight, he would have moved his weekly shopping trip forward by a day. "Well, aside from your empty chips bag - which I am only tolerating because it's in your half of the fridge - there should be some spaghetti left over from yesterday…"

"oh. uh…" Sans looked aside, rubbing the back of his neck.

Papyrus was still waiting for the day when his brother would speak his honest opinion on his pasta, but today was not the time to have that conversation. He decided to rescue him. "I see what you are thinking, brother! Reheated pasta is not an appropriate meal for our recovering guests. It will be much better fresh, so we shall hold off on the spaghetti until I return with the groceries tomorrow."

Sans' shoulders visibly sagged in relief. "sounds great, bro."

"In the meantime, I believe we still have tomato soup in the freezer."

"nice." Sans gave an appreciative nod, the corners of his permanent grin rising up a little higher. "leave the tomato stuff to me, i got it."

"Thank you, brother." Papyrus gave Sans' shoulder another squeeze before letting him go.

It took a good minute before a realization struck him. "Sans!!" he whisper-yelled after him. "You are not going to put ketchup into that soup!"

All he heard in response was his brother bustling about in the kitchen.

---

It was hard to miss the exact moment when Red woke up. There was a thump and a muffled curse from the upper floor, then the sound of displaced air from a shortcut right next to the couch as Red appeared there, kicking a tangled blanket off his feet. The tension was practically oozing off of him, his eye lights darting once around the room before settling on his brother.

"is he…"

"He is going to be perfectly alright, yes." Papyrus made sure to inject as much sincerity as he could into the statement while still keeping his voice quiet. "He even woke up a little while ago, and I'm sure he will be on the mend in no time at all."

Red only gave a nod, his eye lights still fixed on his brother. Papyrus couldn't blame him.

"How are you feeling, Red? We were worried when you suddenly passed out - as comfortable as our carpet is, I do not think it was intended-"

"'m fine," Red interrupted him. The hollow tone to his voice, the dim eye lights, and the tense set of his shoulders told a different story, but Papyrus didn't press.

"My brother is making soup for all of us," he said instead. "Unless he has fallen asleep in the kitchen, that is. Which, while hardly surprising, would be rather ill-timed, not to mention a fire hazard…" He craned his neck to try and peer into the kitchen, hoping that Sans wasn't really asleep at the stove…

"nah, i'm soup-er awake over here," a familiar voice from the kitchen reassured him.

Red didn't even react to the pun. Instead, his eyes suddenly locked on the skeleton in Papyrus' lap with increased intensity, and Papyrus followed his gaze down.

Fell's sockets were open again. Maybe it was just Papyrus' imagination, but his eye lights looked a little brighter than before, even if he still didn't seem entirely aware. He wasn't trying to move, but the impression Papyrus got was more of a grouchy monster whose sleep had been disturbed rather than anything he really needed to worry about.

Red cracked a grin that was still looking strained. "heh. lookin' pretty cozy there, boss."

The only response was an unintelligible grumble and what seemed to be a weak attempt at a glare, although Papyrus couldn't tell for sure from his position. However, he didn't miss the way Red's shoulders sagged and his expression turned into something less of a tense grimace.

"Would you like to join us, Red?" Papyrus asked.

Red shook his head. "nah, 'm good. don't think ya two cuddle bugs have left enough space for my bony ass, anyway."

The pillow rustled as Fell lifted his head just slightly to look at his brother, and whatever Red saw on his face, it apparently made him change his mind. With a cautiousness Papyrus had never seen him use before, he shuffled over and perched on the very edge of the couch next to Fell's feet, settling a hand on an uninjured part of his leg. "there. happy?" he asked, the gruff tone to his voice not quite matching the care with which he was moving.

Fell gave a vaguely affirmative grunt and snuggled back into the pillows on Papyrus' lap, letting out a soft huff as his body relaxed again.

Red was watching his brother with a rare soft expression on his face that Papyrus had the strong feeling he wasn't supposed to see. He quickly looked away, occupying himself with rearranging the blankets.

There was a brief moment of silence before Red spoke up again. "y'know, i'd say sorry for dumping this on yer doorstep, but…"

Papyrus quickly shook his head. "Oh no, we're very happy to have you as our guests! I mean, I do wish we had you as our guests under different circumstances, but given the situation, I am very, very glad you came here!"

Red shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the couch. His hand remained on his brother's leg. "wasn't like we had much choice." His expression darkened slightly. "'t was either you guys or the doc, and who knows what she woulda…" He trailed off.

Before Papyrus could ask what the issue with their world's version of Alphys was, there was a familiar rush of displaced air as Sans appeared next to the couch, balancing a tray of soup bowls in his hands. "mornin', sleepybones," he greeted the latest arrival on the couch.

Red grumbled good-naturedly, grabbing a bowl before slumping back into his end of the couch, somehow without jostling Fell's legs in the slightest.

Sans unceremoniously plopped down on the ground with his own bowl after handing the third one to Papyrus. "bone appetit."

That particular pun was about as tired as Sans looked, but Papyrus still awarded the attempt with an eyeroll. He carefully took a sip - and yes, there was the unmistakable sweet tang of his brother's favorite condiment. "Sans…"

"'sup, bro?" He let his skull roll back against the couch, innocently grinning up at Papyrus.

"You know exactly what is 'up', brother." It didn't even taste bad, if Papyrus was completely honest, but it was a matter of principle.

"what, not a fan of the soup-prise ingredient? i think it tastes soup-erb."

Papyrus took the bait. "That's three times that you've used 'soup' in the span of five minutes!"

Sans shrugged. "what can i say, it's a classic. though i soup-pose i should ketchup on some new material…"

Papyrus let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to the other Sans in the room. "What about you, Red? Are you enjoying the soup? We can get you something" – he side-eyed his brother – "less ketchup-heavy…"

Red shook his head and gave a thumbs-up at the same time, emptying what appeared to be half the bowl in a single gulp. "nah, soup's perfect. gotta condiment yer cooking, comic."

"Don't encourage him!"

A snicker came from the ground next to the couch. "thanks. gotta admit, i've been stewing over it for a while, so i'm glad at least someone's relishing it."

Papyrus groaned. Quietly, of course, even though Fell seemed dead to the world again… no, that was a bad one.

Red's face suddenly split into a sharp-toothed grin that filled Papyrus with dread. "but ya know, i wonder if we could spice it up-"  

"Please do not wonder!" Papyrus tried to cut him off, but it was already too late.

"say no more." With an equally wide grin, Sans got up and disappeared into another shortcut. He returned a second later with a suspiciously yellow condiment bottle and tossed it at his alternate on the couch, who expertly caught it.

"Do not think I don't see how you're fully exploiting the fact that I can't get up right now!" Papyrus whisper-yelled.

Red made full eye contact as he uncapped the bottle and, teasingly slowly, turned it upside down above his bowl. Somehow, his grin widened even further.

Groaning, Papyrus threw an arm over his eye sockets (albeit slightly less dramatically than he would have done without a sleeping skeleton on his lap) so he didn't have to watch him squirt an ungodly amount of mustard into his soup. "Why??" he lamented. "Why must I be plagued by the only two monsters in existence who will ruin a perfectly good tomato soup with condiments?"

He sensed more than saw the bottle flying past him and back to Sans. There was another squelch of mustard being squeezed into soup.

"I swear, you're only doing this to torment me!"

"hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, bro."

"I don't need to try it to know that mustard has no place in a tomato soup!"

"nah," Red chimed in. "i think ya just haven't mustard up the courage fer it."

Papyrus buried his face in his hands.

"what's the matter, creampuff? can't take what we're dishin' out?"

Papyrus let out a perfectly silent screech to keep himself from smiling at the horrendous puns. Not to smile at the two Sanses' laughter that rewarded him proved more difficult, though. Playing along with their jokes was comfortable, familiar - and just for a little while, it was easier to pretend that everything truly was alright.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #papyrus #sans #underfell sans #underfell papyrus #(although he's unconscious for most of the chapter) #platonic edgepuff #hurt/comfort #my writing #out of action fic