#“guys we obviously aren’t getting new chapters- it’s been three years”

[aelinox]

reverse psychology can and does work on me

#this is at that one person who commented on my abandoned wattpad page like #“guys we obviously aren’t getting new chapters- it’s been three years” #fuck you /j #i’ll write new stuff just for you bastard #I haven’t even watched the show they’re about in a year #but you underestimated how petty I am #aeli rants #rip my fanfics #raising them from the dead like Victor Frankenstein #just manically laughing and typing on a computer #update: i thought i was joking but i genuinely just updated my fic family ties and web of lies #walking into that room three years older like “haha what did i miss?” #while all my readers stare like “bitch you were dead??”

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch7

Note: this chapter was added as part of a major edit/extension of this fic which is why it's being posted now and out of order. SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Aged up Five because things get smutty...obviously.)  Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

Having stormed out of your apartment, Five's getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

GIF by thisgameissonintendo

Chapter Seven: Scars

Now he knows why Lila’s been acting like more of a prick than usual lately. Since not murdering her is essential to maintaining his position as Santi's favorite uncle, he decides against doing his drinking at home. Instead, he sucks his final lime with his elbows on the bar before dropping the shot glass on the tray beside the other five. Tequila is an efficient delivery system, and the ritual of salt, tequila and then lime always appeals to him. 

“Jesus, son. Another bad day?”

“What?” he snaps, head whipping in the direction of the voice like a bated dog on the brink of biting.

“Woah,” says the old man, one hand held up in surrender, “just saying hi. We talked in here a few weeks ago, remember? You bought me a drink. Just repaying the favor.”

As Five looks at him from under lowered brows, the guy places another tequila slammer in front of him.

“Oh,” Five says, recognizing him and nodding, “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood to socialize.”

The guy, clearly drunker than Five is, (and nowhere near as drunk as Five intends to get), seems to brush off the rebuff.

“Name’s Geoff. What’s eatin you…?” the question tapers off expectantly.

“Five”, he supplies, reluctantly.

“Like th-”

“Like the number, yes,” Five snaps, irritated by the predictability.

Geoff, undeterred by his obviously forbidding attitude, sits down next to him.

“Sure. Five. Is it still chick stuff and job stuff?”

Five chuckles darkly. Drunk as it was like six shots from a revolver, the tequila’s permeating his brain extremely quickly. He finds that Geoff isn’t as annoying as he might have initially expected. 

“Just chick stuff now.”

Geoff makes a sympathetic noise as if he knows the situation of old.

“You in a fight with your girl?”

“No,” he says, “she’s not my girl. That’s kinda the point.”

Geoff looks his confusion and Five explains.

“I’m seeing her casually but she’s getting clingy.”

“Treating her mean to keep her keen, huh?” 

“No.” Five said, raising his new glass briefly to Geoff before downing the shot. When he surfaces, wincing slightly, he says:

“She knows the deal. It’s casual or nothing, but she’s sticking her goddamn nose in my past.” 

He’s becoming effusive, the liquid sounds in his words starting to drag and hand gestures becoming more pronounced than usual.

“What gives her the right to…to psychoanalyze me? To pathologize the only good thing I had- she has no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Sounds tough, son,” Geoff says, only understanding part of this, “she sounds like my ex-wife. Everything’s always ‘oh, you have a transactional understanding of relationships’, ‘you aren’t attuned to my emotional needs’ or some dumb shit like that.”

“Exactly!” Five says, pointing at Geoff, “she doesn’t know my goddamn shitass life. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. All we had was each other for over forty years. You don’t just forget that.”

“Exactly!” Geoff repeats, not really listening, “my ex could never understand that I’m not a mind-reader.”

The two men talk over each other:

“-You don’t just throw it away because it wasn’t normal or whatever.” Five says, tipping the shot glass again in the hope of a final drop of tequila. “She was the fuckin’ love of my life. She saved me. She was there when nobody else was and I don’t regret a single minute of it. So fuck her.”

“...just expected me to magically know when the housework needed doing. Here’s the thing, Karen: I don’t know if you don’t tell me.”

“-she doesn’t get to judge us. She doesn’t get to call her a fuckdoll just because she wants me to be her emotional support animal. Dolores was twice the woman she is-”

“...and maybe,” Geoff rants, “if she’d put out now and again I might not have got all that credit-card debt spending money on cam girls.”

“Looking up at me with those goddamn puppy-dog eyes and she thinks she can…she thinks she can make that all go away? Like it never mattered?”

They both stop talking at the same time, both of them having caught up with some of the contents of what the other said. There’s a brief moment in which they look at each other, confused.

“Well…thanks for the shot,” Five said, not wanting to hear any more about Geoff’s cam-girl debt. 

“No problem.” says Geoff, clearly deciding that the mental wherewithal to unpack how such a young man could have had a 40 year relationship with a sex doll is beyond him, “bye then.”

He decamps quickly, not looking back.

After the brief interruption, Five turns his attention back to the task at hand: getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

“Hey- you,” he says to the bartender, “will you do me a double tequila and ginger ale?” 

The bartender looks over at Five and the several empty shot glasses in front of him. “I think you’ve had enough. Your ID says you’re over twenty-one, and that’s fine, but I’m not serving you any more.You’re gonna end up having your stomach pumped at this rate.” Five tries to summon the wit needed to persuade the guy, but finds it’s missing after the sudden influx of alcohol to his brain. “Ah…well fuck you.”

He blinks with surprising accuracy given the booze and emerges, swaying, behind the bartender. He grabs an opened bottle of scotch and gives him the finger before disappearing again. 

Out on the street, he shivers in the sudden blast of chilly December air. Drinking out in the open isn’t exactly a problem for him: it’s where he’s done most of the drinking in his life. In the apocalypse, drinking alcohol was a rare godsend. It represented brief moments of respite: a break from obsessive reading, calculation and fight for survival. Alcohol even gave him sweet, dreamless sleep: something he learned to value above almost anything else.

And throughout it all, she’d been there. His angel, his saving grace: Dolores. She’d been there when he was thirty and sure he was going to die of an infection, she’d been there when he was forty-two and had the most severe of his nervous breakdowns. She’d been there through the good and the bad, and she’d borne it all with her Mona Lisa smile.

He takes off his tie and undoes a couple of shirt buttons as he walks, not knowing where he’s walking to. He’d clung to her; a lifebuoy in stormy oceans In return, she’d kept him afloat. Their love was a deep-rooted thing and, in itself, terrifying. In his fractured, beleaguered brain, she spread and clung, filling the gulfs, digging into the sinew and creating new, if diseased, pathways. His love for her was so essential to his sanity, so entwined in the basest part of his brain, that there was a time he thought she could never be extracted, even if he wanted her to.

At random, he turned down a sidestreet and then down the sort of alleyway he envisioned Klaus inhabiting during the worst of his addiction With numb hands, he twisted the lid off the whisky and took a long swing, smacking his lips appreciatively. 

He left her behind when he first got back because he felt himself come full circle: once again, he was a young boy in a strange world. He felt their lifetime together could end poetically...and she had always appreciated poetry. Leaving her behind in the department store had attractive symmetry: her back with her friends and him back with his family…but he’d anticipated visits. He hadn’t imagined skipping between timelines, encountering more apocalypses and ending up somewhere similar but entirely different, where that department store didn’t even exist.

He lowers the whisky bottle and slides down the wall, back leaned up against it and legs splayed in front of him.

Dolores didn’t even speak in his head anymore. 

Before, when he was apart from her, he had a direct line to her consciousness. The part of his mind reserved for her could communicate easily with the rest of him. When they were together, he liked to talk to her out loud, but he didn’t really need to: they could have entire conversations without either of them needing to speak a word. She simply wasn’t there now: at some point in the last six years of contact with other people, she’d faded into nothing.

He raises the bottle to his lips, inhales the smoky, molasses smell and relishes in the precious oblivion it promises.

An improvised fuckdoll. A fuckdoll, you called her?

His teeth work furiously at his lower lip.

“Fucking bitch,” he murmurs, inbetween deep gulps of whisky.

“Please! S’still Thursday.”

You awake suddenly, eyes wide. It’s him. He’s outside in the hall, knocking loudly and insistently.

“Please….please,” he begs, “c’mon…it’s Thursday for like ten more minutes.”

Cautiously, you get to your feet, grabbing your robe from the back of your bedroom door, wrapping it tightly around yourself and creeping out into the hall. You can hear him moving around in the hall: his heavy movement sliding against your door. 

“Please. I’m sorry. Pleeeaase.”

He doesn’t sound like himself. 

Briefly, you consider just ignoring him. You could pretend you never heard him and wait for him to leave. You waver on the cusp of indecision. 

Voice shaking, you call out, “Go away, Five.”

“Please…I won’t blink in but please… oh shit, I couldn’t blink in. But please, talk to m-” he cuts himself off with a dry heave.

Maybe it’s his increasing volume, maybe it’s the thought of what your neighbors will think, after this racket at ten to twelve, only for the whole hallway to smell of puke in the morning. Whatever it is, you open the door.

He all but falls through it, catching his balance at the last minute and stepping slightly back into the hallway, waiting to be formally admitted. 

“m’sorry”

He looks entirely and absolutely awful.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” you hiss, sticking your head out and taking a furtive look down the hall.

He sways, following your gaze as if expecting to see onlookers gathered. If his hair was mussed before, now it’s a disaster; some sticks up at odd angles and yet more is plastered to his face. His tie, waistcoat and left shoe are gone. His shirt is untucked and unbuttoned to just above his nipples. His face, though still handsome, looks slack, his eyes unfocused. He holds a bottle of scotch by the neck with less than a finger’s width left in the bottom.

“Shit.” you mutter, under your breath.

He smells so strongly of the whisky that it hangs in a miasma around him. 

“I need to pee,” he says, like a kid in school. You regard him for just one more moment before standing aside with an angry exhale, now just happy to get him off your doorstep. Better he be in here embarrassing himself than being out there embarrassing you. 

“Thank you,” he says. He stops a second, facing you in the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot:

“Your eyes are a lot like hers, you know.”

You’re not sure what to do with this information.

“How much have you had to drink?” you ask, worried, as he crosses the threshold, “have you drunk that whole bottle?”

“Nah. It was only…only half…maybe three quarters full. I only had that and some tequila.”

His words blur together. 

“How much tequila?”

He steps past you. At his first attempt he walks into the bathroom door frame, making it through on the rebound. You hear him urinate, muttering incoherently under his breath. 

“How much tequila have you had?” you ask, raising your voice to follow him through the bathroom door.

“Only two shots…or maybe like, six?”

“In…” you check the time incredulously, “under two hours?”

“M’fine.” he says, sounding more his age than usual: every inch the gruff old man.

Rolling your eyes, you go as if to wait for him on the couch, but then you hear a crash, a short yell and more retching.

“Five?” 

Yet more retching is the only response.

“Okay, I’m coming in.”

You push the door, still ajar, and find him kneeling with his head in the toilet bowl with vomit splattered on the cistern and toilet seat. He can barely draw breath in between bouts of vomiting. His whole body heaves with the force of the mostly-liquid mush surging out of him. 

You hover, unsure what to do. Him vomiting is probably good, right? Listening to his pained groans is difficult. As much as he terrified you tonight, hearing him in real discomfort tugs at you. Your hand hovers for a moment as you consider laying it comfortingly between his shoulder blades, but something stops you.

 When, at last, he subsides into watery gasps, you lean and flush the toilet.

“God…I’m so sorry.”

He falls back onto his heels. One hand still holds the bottle, standing upright on your bathroom floor. He looks up at you, chin caked in puke. The mixed smells of scotch, piss and bile are disgusting. You shake your head.

“Take off your clothes.”

He giggles drunkenly.

“This is hardly the time!” 

“Shut up and get in the shower.”

He laughs again and stands up, swaying. You catch his bicep and steady him.

“Whoops” he says, steadying himself with difficulty, “thank you m’dear.”  

He’s being ironic, but the use of this endearment makes you frown.

He manages his shirt and shoe alone, but needs to put a hand on your shoulder for balance to remove his trousers and underwear.

You turn on the shower for him and help him take the wobbly step over the side of your bathtub.

“Shampoo is next to you. Make sure you wash everything. You stink.”

“Yessirrr,” he slurs.

You draw the curtain and kick his clothes to one side. With a sigh, you turn to the cupboard beneath the sink and dig out your cleaning stuff: the heavy-duty antibacterial variety. You clean the floor and the toilet, trying not to puke yourself at the smell. As you work, you can hear Five stumbling in the shower.

What the fuck are you doing here? Here you are, cleaning the vomit of a man who screamed in your face today, someone who you had not-unreasonable worries could murder you if he chose. A man who trashed your apartment, who treated you like shit, who never even held you after he fucked and degraded you.

A small clatter and a whisper.

“Shit.”

He’s dropped the shampoo. Not wanting him to attempt to bend over, make his head spin and vomit again, you remove one of your latex gloves and lean over the bath to pass it to him. 

“Th-nks.” he slurs, face and hair covered in suds. 

He tries to take it off you, but his reactions are too shoddy, especially with the addition of soap on his hands, and he drops it again with an identical clatter.

“Shit,” he says, again, as if faced with an impenetrable problem. 

“Just leave it.” you say, firmly, “you got plenty on you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, sounding thankful that this insurmountable issue has been solved for him. 

You finish up your cleaning and close the toilet lid, using it as a seat whilst you wait for him to finish in the shower. Once or twice, you’re sure you catch him sing-humming a couple of bars of Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time. You certainly hadn't imagined any of this knelt on the floor with his gun to your head.

“You nearly there?” you ask, searching for a spare toothbrush.

“Yup.”

A few seconds later, the water shuts off and he opens the shower curtain. As he does so, he gives a small hand gesture as if to say ‘ta-da’. You can’t help but laugh at this with him standing there, looking so pathetic.. 

After getting him dried, his teeth cleaned and his underwear back on, you shepherd him into the living space and onto the couch. The water seems to have sobered him up slightly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He tries to take your hand, but you avoid his touch, instead throwing the blanket over him.

“No, you don’t.”

He lies down. You put a full glass of water on the coffee table and a basin on the floor near his head, just in case. He looks up at you.

“She did…challenge me,” his eyes appeal, begging you to understand, “i-in the ways I could imagine.”

He takes a few sob-like breaths before continuing

“She kept me sane…more or less.”

You sit cross-legged in front of the couch.

“I know- I know how it sounds. But she was real. She made me...laugh. Y'know, take myself a little less seriously? She didn’t always agree with everything I said. She wasn’t some…Stepford wife.”

He turns his face into the couch cushion, his voice muffled now.

“She’d kill me if she knew what I did today.”

You wait. He’s not done and you can sense it.

“But the love was- is - real. The grief is real. I know what a shrink would say. I know that I projected my conscience onto an…an object. But I love her. I love her and I miss her every day. I felt like I could fuck you and not betray what we had, but I couldn’t hold another woman like I held her.”

You can’t help now but pity him. Your anger and resentment ebb away as you watch him, hiding his face in your couch. You know how much this cost him to say. For once he looks like the lost, lonely boy of so long ago.

“She sounds very special.”

“She was”

“And,” you hesitate, “I’m no shrink, but if she was ‘just’ part of you, then…isn’t that good?”

He can’t unpack this. Maybe it’s the drink, maybe not. You try to explain.

“She sounds sweet and loving and she stopped you going mad. And that…that’s all inside you . You and she did that together. You can’t lose her if she never fully left. It means you have all that love to share. The love you have for her and the love she had for you. If she was loving, then so are you.”

“You're getting a little ‘kumbaya’, don’t you think?” Then, as his characteristic cynicism fades, “Thanks.”

You stand up.

“I have work tomorrow. Sleep on your side just in case you puke again. I’d rather avoid having someone who looks like a teenager choking to death on my couch.”

“ ‘kay,” he mumbles, eyes already closing as he shifts, “she always said I drink too much.”

“She was right.”

Friday morning. You intend to let him sleep, but when you enter the living room he’s not there. The blanket is folded neatly on the couch, the bowl and water glass clean and drying on your draining board.

He’s cleaned up the glass from the vase and your destroyed TV is gone. In its place is a note:

New TV arrives tomorrow. Sorry again.

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: June

Chapter 6: Where’s the helipad?

June prompt: Soulmates

AN: Enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air. I love the helicopter scene so much. It is happy-making. It just makes me love both of them for each other. (Let's ignore the fact that I wrote it.)

We are so close to the sex, guys. So close. This is the last SFW chapter for a while. Bask in the virginal dude-bro vibe, and let people know that you read the chapters before they were cool.

TW: Rewrites. Mystifyingly late posts. Drunkenness. If alcohol is triggering for you, no need to read the last teeny section after we first meet Barry. Rest assured that Simon gets home safely and says cute stuff, then happily goes to bed.

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

————/Simon/————

I am trying to stop thinking about falling to my death. Give me a minute.

Ok, so this is…………This is a long flight of fucking rickety, wind-blasted wood. Not like that metal set of stairs with all the switchbacks I was complaining about last time I encountered stairs. I take all of my complaints back about that place. That was the height of stair-building technology by comparison. This place is just…..language fails me, like I’m picturing the stairs failing me any second now.

Shush, I need to concentrate.

————/-/————

Oh my fucking god. I can’t breathe. Metaphorically kissing the ground due to sheer survival has become a feature of my stay here. Just cuz I survived. So much ground kissing happening in Italy. Especially near stairs.

So from the size and schmanciness I’m guessing this place was either for a huge schmancy family, or hardcore party animals needing lots of bedrooms (the olden days version). This coastline has been a summer getaway spot for centuries. Scratch that. For millennia. What, like maybe three thousand, four thousand years?

But actual beaches are rare here. Anybody with two inches of it will stick a beach umbrella in it. So imagine owning an entire beach. Right? Beside the hotel, the only other possible access is from the water. And there are a lot -- I mean a lot of yachts around here. They will never, ever look normal to me. But they’re starting to look like a normal thing around here. And I’m told these aren’t even the big ones. Fuck me sideways.

Both shots are from the website of the actual Hotel La Tonnarella, which is the hotel I based my fictional hotel on. Yes, it really looks like that. Yes, I did stay there. Totally worth going into debt. Best decision I’ve ever made. You can faintly see the stairs, at left. It’s that pale diagonal line down the cliff from the hotel at top left down toward the beach, crossing right in front of that ruin in the middle, halfway down the cliff.

Anyway, we’ve seen the (only) road and there’s definitely no place for me to do my morning run. It doesn’t even have a shoulder. I guess if I can’t run without going airborne off a cliff, I could do the steps when I wake up. Better than nothing. It’s just-

Well, we’ve seen that I hate stairs. Steep stairs. Cliff stairs.

Fuck. Besides being terrifying, it was tiring just getting down here. What am I going to do when I have to go back up?

Anyway, Billy’s working down here today. And I really feel like disrupting his job well done.

“Will yeh take a look at yer man now. Down the beach, explorin,” he calls, as I approach the hotel’s tiny beach bar. “You didn’t take the stairs, did yeh?”

“Um, yeah? Certo. I wanted to see the beach.” Obviously.

“Why didn’t yeh take the lift?” he asks me.

I fix the man to his spot with a very frowny, very deep, “Would you mind repeating that, Billy?” Exactly like if Kronk was playing me in the movie. I can barely see through my eyes that have now narrowed to slits of disbelief and distrust and discomfort. “There’s an elevator?”

“Well, yeah man. How else are people meant to get down here? The cliff’s a dangerous way down, innit?”

It’s ok, Lewis. You can incorporate this new information without flipping out. Just be proud of yourself for facing your fears. You descended steep, unsafe stairs. Good job! And you were only vaguely terrified the whole time. Good job!

“Is the cliff so dangerous that they should close it down due to the mounting death toll? Or is it only dangerous in an inoffensive, cute way?”

He huffs out a quick laugh, then returns to slicing up lemons.

“Billy? That was an actual question. Care to provide an answer?”

“Meh, it’s safe enough,” he says. And that, ladies and gentleladies, is all I need to convince me I can indeed use this as my new Italian Morning Exercise. 1. Cliff, 2. Coffee, 3. Cliff, 4. Vomiting coffee. Perfect.

————/-/————

I’ve spent all this week forging a grudging relationship with the beach stairs.

I’m getting a little more accustomed to it. I have a few specific stones and broken twigs I’ve chosen as landmarks, whenever I require reassurance that I am indeed climbing down the right cliff. And if I’ve survived it the last four mornings, I can survive it a fifth time. Flawless reasoning.

Behind the beach bar, Billy spots me and gives me a wave. “You packed, man?”

My insides instantly start fizzing. I am so fucking stoked. I got us an airbnb in Naples for the weekend so we can check out Sabina’s gig tomorrow night. Billy could not say yes fast enough. He’s a social guy, and there’s not a lot of nightlife around here. I have no idea how he’s managed it all this time. Oh wait, that’s right. He’s managed it with women. Lots of women.

Over the last week, I’ve come to the realization that management does not mind a guest hanging out at the bar distracting their employee all day, because while that guest is distracting the employee, he is also ordering drink after frothy fruit-based drink, and healthy fruit-based foods. It’s like they’ve realized that my distraction of Billy might actually be lucrative for them. I even have my own barstool. Officially.

I have an announcement to make. “I have come to a decision,” I announce. “We need a convertible.”

“Sorry?”

“A convertible. We need one,” I repeat.

“Yeah, mate, heard yeh.”

“What, it’s a convertible!”

Billy remains unmoved. “Why can’t we take the train? It’s simplest-”

“We are not taking the train.”

“But I quite like the train,” he claims.

“Because you’re insane and don’t like convertibles.” J’accuse!

“See now, I never said I don’t like convertibles. I-“ he begins.

But I totally interrupt him. “I need to go do something.” Because my brain just exploded with potential.

“What?” He might be alarmed.

Whereas I’m enthusiastic. “Be an Ugly American.”

“Er, that sounds terrible,” he says.

“If you’re gonna be American, you might as well own it. Watch me own it, Billy, watch me.”

Oddly, Billy still looks wary. “That sounds-”

“Awesome.”

“-terrible. You’re not plannin to wear one of them caps with straws into beer cans, are yeh?” He snorts at whatever he’s picturing. “Actually, I might pay yeh to do that.”

“Nah. Not my brand,” I say, sliding off the barstool. I snag an olive and pop it in my mouth, to avoid grinning like someone who grins because they’re about to do something awesome. “Ciao, Beelee.” I wave behind me.

I’ve got the phone out and I’m already dialing before I’ve even reached the stairs. And then I remember I can also take the elevator.

———/-/———

Billy has finally met up with me at the fountain by the hotel entrance. Thank god, cuz I really don’t want him to miss the arrival of that Ugly American thing that required a phone call. Ever notice there’s an ugh in ugly? Just occurred to me.

“There you are, Delaney. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh! Prepare to hear the sweet sweet sound of helicopter blades pulsing through the air. It’s done, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Simon-”

“So where’s the helipad?” I inquire.

“The what now? Mate, it’s not that kind of hotel. Why are we taking a helicopter to Naples?”

“The correct response would normally be ‘because we can’-” Obviously. Certo.

“That is not a normal response.” Billy looks mystified, yet still amused. So that’s a thing.

“-but not this time,” I finish. “That’s not the real idea.”

“Oh, so you’re tellin me this is a superfluous helicopter. That is ugly.”

“No! It is most definitely not superfluous.”

“Your carbon footprint’ll be spendin all eternity in hell, man.”

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Stop talking. And just enjoy the mounting anticipation. The mellow sense of horror, or at the very least a nasty case of creeping dread. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhh!”

“Stop it, mate. You’re gettin evil genius all over my uniform. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

“Just a little bicarbonate of soda. Gets out even the most organic of stains. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh.”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Stop talkin. Like an evil genius. We’re gettin complaints.”

“Are not.”

“From me. I’m complainin.”

“What am I going to wear?” I ask. It’s a fair question.

“Simon. Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! I packed for Italy in ten minutes. It’s all socks and shorts.” And sunblock. And chargers.

He’s shaking his head at me. For some reason, this makes me happy. In my tummy. How novel.

“Is that the fire alarm?” he asks.

“Huh? I mean, MWAH hah ha ha haaaah, oh no. What you’re hearing is the sweet sweet purring of a helicopter bearing my booty.”

“You didn’t think that one through, mate.”

“Oh, but yes, yes I did. This booty is worth baring. Can you feel it? The heady excitement of anticipation? The mellow terror?”

“Yes. I feel the terror,” he says blandly. He finds my terror bland.

Wait. “That would be the best cologne flavor ever. Mellow Terror, by Simon Lewis. Pour homme.”

“Are you manic right now?”

———/Billy/————

I was joking, but Simon just went very still. I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?

“I am a bit manic, am’nt I?” he offers, tossing off a fake laugh.

“Somethin wrong with your shoes, mate? Simon, man, my eyes are up here.”

“Just wait til you see what I’ve done,” he says sheepishly, eyeing me from under his furry eye caterpillars.

“Simon. Should I be worried?”

“Oops?”

Oops? I haven’t a clue what to do with oops.

He grabs me excitedly by the forearm and starts dragging me toward the hotel gates.

That’s…Wait, is that-

“Simon. Did you buy a Mini Cooper?”

“A convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But why?” I ask the reasonable question.

“Because I can!” He’s practically vibrating. I can tell he wants to do his jumping-clapping thing by the way he’s currently bouncing on his toes.

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“You bought a Mini Cooper. Convertible,” I swiftly add. “You’re in the land that built the Maserati, the Lamborghini, the Ferrari, and every other sports car that ends in i-”

“Not Audi.”

I huff in annoyance, “-and you bought a convertible Mini Cooper. And had it airlifted here. Because you could.”

“I’ve always wanted a convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But not a convertible Ferrari,” I clarify.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m awesome,” he answers, because he’s Simon.

I decide not to mention that we could have skipped the car altogether and taken the helicopter to Naples.

This is so childish, and impetuous, and reckless, and I refuse to find the actions of a grown man adorable. Jaysus.

“Oh my god!” he squeaks. “They were driving Minis in The Italian Job!!!”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head. “Did you have them airlift in some clothes, too?”

“Shit! I totally should have!” He appears to actually mean that.

“You should see your face,” he hoots. Feckin hoots, all half bent over from laughin.

And now he’s ignoring me. Suddenly I’m not even here. He only has eyes for his Mini. “Oh my god it’s so kawaii.”

His smile is kawaii.

“Go away,” he flaps a hand at me. “I want to fanboy freely and without judgment from a judgy Irishman.”

“Fine. I need to pack anyway.”

And off behind me I hear him call, “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

————/-/————

I’ve gathered my gear, and I can see Simon out by the car park. I’m hitching up my pack, so it isn’t really until I’ve cleared all the foliage that I realize Simon is humping his Mini Cooper convertible. “All right?” I ask, tryin to keep a straight face.

“Oh, yes. All is definitely right,” he purrs.

“Have you turned her on, too?”

He slides off the car til his Converse hit the pavement with a slap.

Now he’s draping himself over the boot. I can’t help it that I’m laughing. Sometimes he hits me just right to set me to belly laughin. Doesn’t happen often with Simon, but when it does, he wears the greatest surprised happy face I’ve ever seen. This time there’s giggling. Off to a good start, which is good. Yes. Good.

I hesitate. “Look, mate. Will this thing actually fit us?” I eyeball the car. “I am quite seriously concerned that we might actually need the top down to ride in this thing. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six feet. Why? How tall are you? Mate, get off the boot so I can shove this in there and we can go.” He does, and I do.

I have to say it, “Thanks for not getting the red, white, and blue one.” There is a god. Thank you, Poseidon.

“They were out of orange, white, and green, too,” he says with regret.

“You asked about the tricolor, did yeh?” Alright yes, he’s got me laughin again. Simon Lewis. Driving the Irish flag.

“Fuck out of the driver’s seat!” he’s suddenly roaring.

Blimey. He looks proper angry. I may have just flinched. “Don’t you want a car and a driver? No, serious, don’t yeh want me to drive, since I know the way?”

“Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat, Billy. Now!”

“Alright! Fine, fine. You’ll be usin GPS then, will yeh?”

“Si si si, certo.”

I groan. “This is all about to go so very-”

“Awesome,” he declares. “This is all about to continue to be awesome. Be the change, Billy. Be the change!”

“Oh my god Simon.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes from here,” he says from behind the boot, which he slams shut a little too hard. I feel it in every moving piece of this tiny automobile. Bigger than a SMART car, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin.

Well, here’s hoping he’s still so enthused about it at the other end. “Gotta say, mate. I’m surprised you’d want to drive at all.”

“Why not?” he’s askin.

“Because mate, it’s Italy, innit. Famous for frightenin foreign drivers.” He has to remember what the drivin was like on our three other trips down this road. “Well,” I sigh. “At least you get to drive on the ‘right’ side of the road in Italy.”

—--/-/—--

“See? I told you you’d fit.”

“Alright man, you did,” I admit to the muppet.

“Come on, give it up…”

“What?” I’m not laughing, I promise. “Is she a smooth ride? I don’t know, man, why don’t yeh start her up ‘n find out?”

“Well there is that. So yeah,” he says as he pulls out of the car park and up to the mouth of the hotel driveway. “It’s to the left, right?”

“Em, yeah. Yes, the city of Naples is still in the general direction of left. Like the other three times we’ve done this road together.”

He rolls his eyes, and all is right and well with the world. Until the moment he pulls out onto the road. Then I’m brought up quick by the realization that between us we know fuck all about the convertible Mini Cooper. “Wait, where’s the GPS on her, for the flat’s address?”

“I dunno, check the screen thing.” So helpful, yer man Simon is.

“Do you even have an Italian driver’s license? Or insurance? I love this guy. How’ve yeh managed to live this long?” I pause for an answer, but none is forthcoming. “I mean, fucksake, Simon. You called someone to buy you a car and suddenly you’re on the road to Naples. Do you even know where the directionals are? Or like, the wipers? Should I be concerned for my safety?”

“Shoosh. Don’t jinx us,” he sternly admonishes me. “Do you need to have registration in Italy? Or insurance? I don’t know. Italy doesn’t really strike me as a big insurance-y type of country.”

“Fair point. But I take it you have….whatever, I dunno, papers and all that?” How is he like this?

“Don’t know. What’s in the glove box?” He makes a flappy gesture in the general direction of my knees.

“How are you like this? Were you actually born like this, or did it come with fame and wealth?”

“You mean, was I actually born a flaming asshole, or just become one?”

“Meh. Yeah ok,” I shrug. “We’ll go with that. So, what’ll it be?”

“Ow. Straight for the throat, Delaney.” His tone is recriminating as he protects his throat with both hands. “Uncool, man. Uncool.”

I’m flipping through the owner’s manual. Before long I’ve programmed everything, located the GPS, found Simon’s Only In Italy playlist, and even found the button to pop the bonnet. “There you go. It’s workin now.” I toss the manual in the glove box.

“What’s working?” he asks.

I shrug. “Everything, man. Everything.”

He barks out a laugh, the grumpy fuck, and I realize I’m laughing as well.

I plug in the address for the flat and immediately the voice pumping out the speakers is a woman speaking Italian. So I’m maniacally fumbling with it again, while Simon drives on in a fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on! Let’s see how we do in Italian,” he gasps out.

“Fucksake. See how we do in Italian.” Shaking my head.

“No, seriously. Let’s hear what she has to say, this ummmmm, what should we call her - Maria! Because obviously.”

“Certo.” That gets me another laugh.

“Santa Maria, Holy Madonna, show us the way, in Italiano,” Simon pleads in a truly horrendous Italian accent. “I am so happy right now.”

He says it with a laugh. Such a thing to so easily roll off the tongue. Fella I met a few months ago, I never would have pictured bein happy, let alone noticing it, naming it, declaring it. Nice to see. Unexpected, know what I mean?

“I don’t trust you when you’re quiet that long, Delaney.”

“Hm?”

“Exactly.”

Am I missing something?

“Ok, so.” He clears his throat. “We know who I am. Who are you? Let’s hear it. Who is Billy Delaney?”

Aw, man. Serious? “How long we got?” Please don’t make me.

“How would I know?” he shrugs. “Maria’s speaking your language, not mine.”

“Fair enough.” I hit play, hoping the music will make the conversation trail off from there. But of course it doesn’t, because this is Simon. Si. Certo.

“What. Do you have some horrible second identity thing going on? Are you really even Irish? Truth time, Delaney.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“Yeah, ok,” says the cheeky monkey.

“Oh,” I answer, not sure how else to dodge Simon’s inquisition. Uh, erm….. “Soooo, what mate? What do you want to know?” I ask, though truthfully I wish he’d just let it go.

“Is your name really Billy Delaney, and are you actually even from Ireland at all?”

“Yes.”

“Boring.”

“Brief,” I counter.

“Obtuse,” he counters.

“Si.”

“Oh my god, Billy. So where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

He looks around us rapidly. “Is she going to start speaking Italian? Cuz we just passed Ercolano.”

“Already?”

“Yeah! I know, right? Time flies when you’re torturing someone for information. So should I panic?”

“Nah,” I reassure him. “We've a bit more road before we turn aside. Maria can sleep on.”

“Alright. But I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t start coughing up some details, I'm serious, I will pull this car over. Do I have to pull this car over, young man?”

“Wow, that’s forceful.” Cos it is. “Ow!” I flinch when he swats my shoulder with a backhand. “Fine, ye bastard. My name is actually Lola, but I go by Billy Delaney. And I’m only mostly joking. One of the summer cousins I used to play soccer with couldn’t say William when we were little. So for a few months every year, I was Lola. There. Was that not juicy enough for yeh?”

“Charming. But from that I got these few details: 1. You have cousins. Conceivably fertile ground. We could continue that way. 2. You play soccer, and you call it soccer. Isn’t that illegal outside the US? No- don’t answer that. I’m not finished. 3. You go someplace where there are cousins to play soccer with in summer. Are we even still in Ireland?”

Em. I just sort of sit here and wait.

“And you really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“You are so easily distracted,” I tease. “No, but seriously, here’s some details for yeh. I’m 27. Left Ireland at 18, after graduating culinary school, and was sent out to do my apprenticeship. That was at a manor house near Galway,” I say, wrapping up the conversation.

“And…..”

“That’s not enough?” I thought that was a fair bit of information, to be honest.

“Do I have to turn this car around, young man?”

“I fear I might be missin some essential cultural reference here, mate.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. Feed me.”

And that’s when Maria tells us to turn left.

—--/Simon/—--

I can’t fuckin believe that there are Irish pubs in Italy. Nor can I believe I’m in one. I mean, where do real Italians go to watch soccer? This can’t be right.

“All right?” Billy asks the bartender.

“Howeyeh,” says the man back to him, and Billy’s eyes go comically wide.

Next thing I know, I’m bored stiff, pretending to find the intricacies of European football interesting with a Welsh guy named Barry.

And whoa, turns out Billy’s day-to-day accent is pretty washed out in comparison to the thickness of his accent when he’s speaking to his new BFF. They’re speaking so fast that I can’t understand a word through their accents and grammatical errors. Welsh is so much easier.

That is, until I hear a voice disturbingly similar to Billy’s, requesting a Bud.

I swing back around in time to see Billy’s new BFF nod at him and begin turning toward the draft beers.

“No! Wait,” I wave. “He’s only joking,” I say, emphatically shaking my head no.

“Oh,” the Irish bartender looks back to Billy in surprise. “Were you?”

What, he thinks I’m lying? “Course he was! Certo.”

“Why ‘of course’?!” Billy turns on his barstool to face me. “What the fuck, Simon?”

“Sorry if I fucked up your joke, dude, but don’t drag it out, ok?” I say under my breath.

Disparaging other people’s beer of choice is like a national pastime in Brooklyn, because it frequently employs irony, and we are naturally good at it from birth. Don’t blame him, he’s new.

“I’ll take that Bud,” Billy reiterates. “Ta, mate.” The barkeep returns his nod and goes about the business of it.

“Billy? We’ve talked about this. You swore you’re Irish. Were you lying to me? Are you a lying liar who lies?”

“Why do yeh say that?”

“Because you can’t – you’re not – you’re not, like, allowed to drink bad beer when you’re Irish. Isn’t that illegal? Or fatal, or something?”

The big ape is just lazing back against the bar, sipping his pint of piss beer, looking at me in amusement.

“You’re like a caricature of yourself sometimes, Simon, d’yeh know what I mean?”

“Fuckin- What?! That’s not very nice! I’m outraged.”

“You should see yerself, mate. Yeh look like your face is about ready to split down the middle and outrage’ll start pourin out like lava from the fissures.”

I stop and cock my head at him. “That was both specific and descriptive. Nice one. But that said, how dare you! I demand an apology.” I’m trying really hard to keep a straight face. He has no intention of making it easy for me.

“Apologize? For what?” He gives me a cock-eyed grin. Oh look, his cock eyes are doing that twinkly thing again.

“You have offended my good taste and have let down your countrymen and native soil. Or water or whatever it is that makes all beer taste better in Ireland. The least you could do is the decent thing and apologize to your countrymen, and me, and then hide it in your jacket where no one can see you sneaking sips!”

He laughs because he thinks I’m joking.

“Do you just not like beer at all? And that’s why you don’t order the good stuff?” I prod.

“Simon, you are such a snob,” he says, and goes right on twinkling.

“Correct. And if you’re going to drink cheap beer, for god’s sake, order PBR and salvage at least some of your self respect.”

“Do you know this man?” the bartender asks Billy. “Is he harassin yeh?”

Billy is now laughing so hard that he’s almost fallen off his stool.

“We know each other,” I reassure the barkeep. “Don’t know how long that’ll last, all considered, though. Check back for updates.” I raise my pint of Guinness in respect.

“It’s czech. Budvar,” the man informs me.

“Ah, no! Why’d yeh tell him, mate!” Billy raises his hands theatrically. I’m telling you, theatre school. “Yeh just had to put him out of my misery, yeah?”

“And my misery,” says the man.

—--/-/—--

Ok, so what is it with the whole pub drunkenly singing “oh-ay-oh-ay” at the top of their drunken lungs, sloshin beer out of their pint glasses, whenever Europeans play soccer. Mebbe they sing it in Southmerica, too. Butwhatevercuz I don’ really care.

If you can’t – beat em then join em. Thassmymott, um, -o. Thassmy motto. Motto.

Where’s Billy? I can’t see him. If thissperson would get out of the frickin way. He’s all backed up against my face’n I can’t see. Anything. Nothin to see here, folks. Move along, people, move along.

Where’s Billy? Oyeah, right right right. Right here in my face.

I figure it’ll be easier to keep track of him if I hold onto his belt loop. Or a pocket or something. Yeah, I’m just gonna hang on to his pocket.

Pocket.

I like the word pocket. Lossa hard consnits that pop. Pop.

Pop.

I like the word pop. It sounz like it pops. And it’s the same backwards and forwards an’itsall about the lips. Pop ’ing.

What? Where’s he going? I’m trailing after him with my hand in his pocket. He keeps pullin it out and I keep puttin it back in. Oth’wise I’m gonna get lost and then where would I be? Huh? I wouldn’t even know!

“Oh! Now I know where we are! We’re on the block where we’re were where gonna sleep.” If make it up th’stairs. But Billy’s helping. He’s nice like that.

“You’re nice like that,” I say with a big smile. “And you‘re funny lookin.”

Wait.

“Oops! I mean yerlookin funny at me right now. Whass funny? ‘m’I funny? ‘r’Juss funny lookin?”

I crack myself up. Like in real life, cuz I’m laughing. Right now. Sometimes iss hard to stop laughing but I’ll be ok.

“Billy. Billy! Hey, Billy. What’re you doing? Tryin to get in my pants? That tickles! Oh, hey! Did we win? I mean, I don’really care - just wonren.”

Hey! Tickles! “Stop that! How’dyou know I don’t wanna wear those? I’ll take ‘em off when I feel like it. Prollymaybe take ‘em off tomorrow. Hey! I was wearing that! And that!”

He’s very pushy. “You’re very pushy. Stop pushing!”

I land on the bed and it’s like fluffy clouds of teddybears. “K, fine. I’ll go to bed, jeez.” Alls I wanna do is bury my face in pillow, but can’t breathe when I do that.

“Don’t close the door all the way, Ma. And leave the hall light on, K? g’Night, love you too.”

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

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#simon x billy #year of the otp #robert sheehan #simon lewis #billy delaney #crossover #robert sheehan character fic #the mortal instruments fanfic #the mortal instruments #tmi #the mortal instruments movie #the mortal instruments: city of bones #me and mrs jones #bbc me and mrs jones #tmi fanfic #year of the otp 2023 #june #chapter 6 #where’s the helipad? #pinned post #pin

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 11: Home for Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2642

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Notes: Today’s story was written during the hiatus between 5a and 5b, so obviously a number of the Underworld events referred to in the story did not come to pass. We’ll just call this a canon divergence. Newly back from the underworld, Emma finds a way to give Killian the best Christmas present he could ever hope to get.

Genre: CS 5b canon divergence

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Emma woke, as she woke every morning any more—with a smile on her lips and a song in her heart.  The sun shone brightly into her bedroom window, letting her know it would be time to get up soon, but her bed was warm and cozy and she had no intention of leaving it until she had to.  She stretched and turned over, hoping to spend a few more minutes snuggling with her husband before it was time to start the day.

Only her hand landed on empty sheets rather than a furry pirate chest.  Emma sat up abruptly, her heart stilling before beginning to race, the panic hitting with no warning.

It had been three months since she, Killian and the rest of her family had returned from the Underworld, and though time had eased the pain of their two-month-long ordeal with the darkness and Killian’s subsequent death, it was still difficult for Emma to let her true love out of her sight; it was still difficult to keep the fear at bay whenever they were apart.

Emma tossed the covers aside, stepped into her furry slippers, and wrapped herself in her warm bathrobe.  She tossed open the bedroom door, and hurried into the hall.  No sooner had she stepped out of her room then the smell of frying bacon teased her nose, and the sound of her boys talking and laughing met her ears.

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.  They were fine.  They were both fine; safe, happy, and here with her.

“Come on, Killian!” Henry cajoled.  “It’s Christmas morning!  Can’t we just wake her up?  She’ll sleep all day if we let her, and I can’t wait for you guys to open my present!”

Emma grinned as she stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe waiting for her two true loves to notice her.

“You know as well as I that’s a dangerous prospect lad,” Killian said, turning toward the stove and flipping the pancakes with the handy spatula attachment he’d replaced his hook with for the task at hand.  “You know full well that waking your mother is akin to bearding the lion in its den.” 

Emma cleared her throat, masking her amusement with a fierce scowl.  “Excuse me?”

Two pairs of startled eyes met hers, and then Killian reached up to scratch at that much abused spot behind his ear.  “Merry Christmas, love!  I just…I wanted to let you sleep.  I didn’t mean…you see, we understand.  But when you don’t get your sleep you are sometimes…not that you aren’t bloody brilliant at all times, but…” 

Emma chuckled, sauntered up to him, and placed a quick kiss against his lips.  “Merry Christmas, Killian, and I think you’d better stop while you’re ahead.” 

She noticed the tips of his ears reddening as she pulled back.  “Aye, love.  Perhaps you’re right.”

Henry launched himself at her, wrapping her in an exuberant hug.  “Merry Christmas, mom!”

“You too, kid.  From what I heard, it sounds like someone’s excited to open presents.”

He grinned.  “Yeah, maybe a little.  But Killian convinced me it would be better to have breakfast first.”

Emma’s stomach growled.  “Smart man.  So what can I help you guys with?”

Killian stepped to her side, kissed her cheek and handed her a mug of hot cocoa, topped, of course with whipped cream and cinnamon. “Not a thing at all, my love.  You do so much for us, for all of the townsfolk.  It’s time you allow your men to spoil you.”

“Yeah, mom!” Henry said, turning her toward the living room.  “Why don’t you go relax; maybe turn on some Christmas music.” 

Her smile widened.  “How could I say no to that?”

After turning on the stereo, Emma settled into their plush, comfortable couch, looking up at their magnificent Christmas tree as she sipped at her cocoa. 

This was Killian’s first Christmas in the land without magic, and Emma and Henry had been determined to make this a holiday to remember.  Her inquisitive husband had jumped into the holiday traditions with both feet, spending long hours searching out books and movies about the season, peppering everyone with questions, setting out to fulfill each and every time-honored ritual.

He and Henry had taken an axe and trekked into the woods on the morning after Thanksgiving, and they’d subsequently returned with the biggest, most magnificent Christmas tree Emma had ever seen.  The three of them had spent hours stringing it with lights, hanging ornaments, positioning it just so, ensuring it was an outward expression of their inner joy.

Killian had gone on to hang three stockings on the mantle–meticulously neat and tidy, of course—and sprigs of mistletoe everywhere he could think of.  Emma had to admit, she was rather glad she’d told Killian about that particular tradition. 

(Henry, not so much.  The way he complained about the two of them making out all the time you’d think the kid was traumatized for life.  Henry couldn’t fool her, though.  She saw the pleased grins he tried to hide behind his eye rolls and groans of adolescent angst.  Truth was, all of them were utterly, stupidly happy just to be together and alive and in the land of the living.  Not much would really annoy any of them for some time to come.)

The result was that their home looked like something out of one of those cheesy Christmas movies, and Emma couldn’t be happier. 

Other than the year with Henry in New York, Emma had never been much for Christmas.  Watching all those happy families smiling and laughing, enjoying each other’s company, the love and joy clearly showing on each of their faces—well, it was nothing short of agonizing for a lonely, lost girl. 

But she wasn’t a lonely lost girl anymore.  She was part of a family—a family she deeply loved, and one that she knew loved her just as much.

She couldn’t ask for anything more perfect or more magical.  Christmas was a time for love, a time for family.  Emma smiled to herself as she thought about the plans she and her parents had made for today.  She had one last plan for making this a Christmas her husband would never forget, one last surprise for the man who’d proven there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her; the man who had given her her happy ending.  When her parents had come to her with the idea, she’d cried, overwhelmed at the beauty of the plan, at the joy it would bring Killian.

Yes, Christmas was a time for family, and she was bound and determined to show her pirate that he never needed to spend a lonely holiday—or any other day—again.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma laughed at something Henry said, and Killian smiled to himself, picking up her hand and lacing their fingers as they walked.  It was a bitterly cold afternoon, but yesterday’s snowstorm had given way to a brilliantly sunny Christmas day, and he and Emma and the lad had decided to walk the few blocks to her parents’ abode for Christmas dinner.

It did his heart good to see his wife so happy.  The darkness and its consequences had weighed heavily on both of them, and for weeks after their return, Emma had woken nearly every night with the nightmares.  The haunted look had finally begun to leave her face; the fear to leave her eyes.  Killian knew her excitement over this Christmas holiday was a large factor, and for that alone, he would adore this holiday to the end of his days.

Killian sighed softly to himself, careful not to let his small family hear the wistful sound.  He was happy; truly he was.  Having Emma as his wife, Henry as his son…it was more than he could have ever dreamed.  Not for anything in all the realms would he give up this life he was privileged to lead.

This holiday, this Christmas, it put such emphasis on love, on family joining together.  He loved Emma and Henry with all his heart; he was profoundly humbled and grateful for the way Emma’s parents had welcomed him with open arms into their family.  (Even now, some three months later, his eyes still welled remembering the moment he realized not only Emma and her lad, but her parents, Regina and Locksley had all travelled to the Underworld for him, because they cared about him, because they couldn’t stand the thought of him being gone from their lives.)

Even so, there was a bit of bitterness mixed in with the sweet.  The truth was, Killian missed his family—his beloved brother and the father he’d been privileged to reconcile with in the Underworld.  It had been a beautiful time among the horror and ashes, and Killian would never be able to fully express his gratitude to Emma for agreeing to wed him there, in the underworld with Liam as officiant and his papa as witness.

But all things must come to an end.  When he and Emma succeeded in breaking Hades’ stranglehold over the Underworld, his father and brother had finally been ushered to their eternal reward in the land of paradise.  Killian had willingly returned to the land of the living with his new wife at his side, secure in the knowledge that the two men he loved more than anyone in any realm (save for the woman beside him) were finally happy and at peace.

Henry ran ahead up the steps and knocked on the Charmings’ door, his gift for Grandma and Gramps held proudly in his free hand.  A moment later, the lady Snow opened the door and soon enveloped each of them, in turn, in a warm, motherly hug.

“So glad you guys got here!” she said, ushering them inside.  “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Killian looked around at the assembled group, the Charmings, the young prince Neal, Regina and Robin with their children–all smiled happily, talking and laughing, welcoming him with joy.  It was enough.  It was far more than enough; far more than he’d ever thought to have.  Far more than enough to push the tiny ache of loss to the far corner of his mind. 

“Smells good in here!” Henry said, peering into the oven.  “Did you make your famous lasagna, mom?”

Regina ruffled Henry’s hair.  “That I did.  And my apple turnovers—and don’t worry, Miss Swan…er…Mrs. Jones, this batch is completely free of sleeping curse—for dessert.”

“Awesome!” Henry said.  “Can we eat?”

“In just a minute kid,” Emma said.  “We just have to wait until a couple more people get here.”

Killian looked around in surprise.  It appeared the family was all assembled.  “Who else are we missing, love?”

Emma shared a look with her parents, and Killian noticed the tears in her eyes, the secret smile on her face.

Charming stepped forward, holding out a small, non-descript canteen, which Killian automatically took.  “Hook…Killian,” he began, “before Merida took the portal back to her land, she gave us a gift as a token of her appreciation.  That canteen you’re holding.” 

“That was…thoughtful,” Killian said, staring in bemusement at the object in question.

“Yes, it was.  It really was,” Snow said, stepping forward in her turn, “but it’s not the canteen, but the ale that’s in it that’s the real gift.”

“Killian,” Emma said, smiling up at him.  “It’s not just any ale.  It’s a special ale Merida got from a witch in her land.  The person who pours it on the ground can bring back loved ones who have passed on—temporarily at least.”

Killian’s eyes widened, and he shot startled looks at all of them.  “You mean…you mean, I could bring…?”

“Yeah,” Charming said.  “We discussed it, and we all agreed.  That last cup of ale should go to you.  Emma wanted to make your first Christmas special; she thought you might like to invite your own family to our feast.”

Killian’s vision blurred as he looked down at his wife.  “You’d do this for me, love?”

She reached up and cupped his face, bringing him down for a quick kiss.  “I’d do anything for you, Killian.  I thought you’d know that by now.  I know how much you miss them, and, well, I just wanted to make you happy.”

Killian smiled shakily, returning her kiss, brushing away a tear from her cheek.  “You do make me happy, love.  Every day you make me happy.  I wouldn’t trade our life together for anything.” 

“I know,” she said with a smile, “but it doesn’t mean you don’t miss those you’ve lost.  I get that.  I really do.  So, when I found out there was a way to bring them back for the afternoon, I hopped right on that.  Besides, I think it would be amazing to have the whole family together for Christmas. 

“I love you,” he said, swooping in for another kiss.

“And I love you.”

“All of this love is great,” Regina drawled, “but you think we could get on with it?  My lasagna just came out of the oven, and if it gets cold because of your yearning looks and doe eyes, I might start throwing fireballs.”

Killian grinned.  “I wouldn’t dare risk such a thing, your majesty.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the stopper from the canteen and poured its contents on the floor of the Charming’s loft.  Before it hit the ground, it transformed into a fine, golden mist, and when it cleared Liam and Brennan Jones stood before him, brilliant grins draping their handsome faces.

“It looks like you’ve done quite well for yourself, little brother,” Liam said, stepping forward.

“I think you mean ‘younger’ brother,” Killian said, voice suspiciously gravelly, before launching himself into his brother’s arms.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Several hours later, Emma lay in bed with her head cushioned on her true love’s chest.  She reached up and absently fiddled with the charms on his necklace as she listened to the winter wind howl outside. 

Killian leaned down and captured her lips in a tender kiss that went on and on.  When it finally came to an end, she rested her forehead against his.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?” She asked, smiling at him.

“I love you so bloody much, Emma, sometimes I cannot contain myself.”

She chuckled, settling back in against his chest and planting a quick kiss against the space above his heart.  “I love you too.  So how was your first Christmas?  Did it live up to all the hype?”

Killian was silent for a moment, absently running his fingers through her hair.  “It was everything I could have imagined and far more, love.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  You will never know what those two hours with my brother and my father meant to me.”

“I think I can guess,” she said.  “We’re kindred spirits, remember?  The lost boy and the lost girl who finally found each other.”

“Not lost anymore, love,” he said, and she felt the deep rumble of his voice as much as she heard it.  “Though we each possess but half a heart now, mine has never felt so whole or complete.  Liam may have spoken of all the wonders he’s found in paradise, but I’d wager no wonder could compare to having you here in my arms on this Christmas night.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #home for christmas

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

10/4/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Matthew 3, Mark 1, Luke 3

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm China. Today is the fourth day of October, welcome. It is a joy to be here with you today. I have been loving the month of October. I always think how much I really love the month of October. And it's like I was talking about yesterday kind of transitioning out of the heat and really into fall. We don't get a very long fall in Nashville. I wish we would, but the moment leaves turn color, we get a bunch of rain, and they just all plummet. So our fall is, like, on the ground. I guess that's why they call it fall. But I'm pumped. Wish I had sound effects, but you just got my mouth for today. Today we're kind of like bouncing around in the Gospels. I don't know if that has the same fun effect as bouncing around the Psalms, but this is the fun part about reading chronologically. So we're reading it in the order, which is to be believed, that things happened in things that were recorded in. And so we kind of go through the Gospels and we get to hear potentially the same story or picking up from a story where they're the one left off. And we get different obviously they're different writers, so we get different perspectives and different flavors. And you almost walk away from reading the Gospels and you somewhat have, if not a favorite, like a preferred one. And I feel like every year mine switches, so we'll see which one comes out, feeling the preferred one if that does happen this year. But today we are in the Book of Matthew. We are reading chapter three, when the Book of Mark reading chapter one. And the Book of Luke was chapter three. Continuing on with the New International Version for this week.

Commentary

So we read about the story of John the Baptist preparing the way. And up until today's, reading, baptism had not really ever been a thing. So imagine John, who is coming out of the wilderness, who is wearing camel skin clothing and eating locuts and wild honey. So probably very mangy wild looking and is now speaking of things that have never been shared about if this were to be happening in today's time, I don't think we would really bat an eye at it. We'd be like, okay, that person is a follower of Jesus. Okay, cool. I'm already baptized, but I'll pull up my phone and take some videos, maybe upload them, get some likes, like that kind of a thing. But imagine that this is the first time that you are seeing people getting dunked in this lake, in this river, and you're being told there's value in repentance. There's someone who's more important coming, someone who's actually so much greater that this man is claiming he couldn't even carry his sandals or untie them. I feel like that would have two different responses. One that's very compelling and you feel the Holy Spirit convicting you and you feel that move and you're running up there and you are probably weeping, and you're confessing your sins, and you're like, yeah, I want to get baptized. And I don't even know who you're talking about, but sure, this sounds great and true and something seeming to check out in my spirit. I don't even know what that means. But then all of a sudden, here comes Jesus. And you're like, who is this guy? And John is emotional and saying, what, do you want me to baptize you? Aren't you supposed to baptize me? And then you watch Jesus get baptized. And in a bodily form, a dove is descended upon Jesus. Sorry. In bodily form. The Holy Spirit is descended upon Jesus. And there's a loud voice from heaven. Now, I've never heard a loud voice from heaven, but could you imagine all of that being shifted? And I don't know, up until this point were people still sacrificing everything that they needed to make atonement for their sins? I'm not really sure. But imagine hearing a different way of reconciliation happening where it requires something internal and not something external, which has been all these generations. That's honestly pretty groundbreaking. And so then we start reading about Jesus performing healings and performing miracles. Well, I think that healings are miracles, and I think that falls underneath that category. But I do know that the quote first miracle Jesus does is at a wedding. We'll just say that's what they are healing, I think their miracles, but I'm not sure, philosophy wise, if those meshed together, if that counterproducts that that was his first miracle, I'm not sure. I don't know that that fully needs to stand up in a debate. But anyways, so Jesus is revealing himself, revealing who he is, but God is also revealing who Jesus is by a loud voice. There wasn't just a couple of people at the river. There were many people, and many people of importance, too. Soldiers, tax collectors. Probably, people walking around being like, dude, why are you soaked and weeping and saying that you're changed? And then people being like, you gotta go to the river, man. You gotta go to the Jordan. And then kind of like this ripple effect. I don't know, my brain kind of goes into what are the other parts of the story that could have happened just to kind of paint the picture? But who knows if that happened or not? But we do see Jesus in the Book of Mark, starts to choose some of his disciples. We're getting into Jesus'ministry. It's like, man, he was just born a couple of days ago, and yesterday I'm reading about him in the temple and boom, now he's 30. They really grow up.

Prayer

But Jesus, I thank you for your word. I thank you that we are finding so much about you by just slowly taking in your gospels. And I just thank you that everything you did was with intention and with heart and with character. And I thank you so much that we have a savior who is personal and personable that you understood so much more than what I think we even give you credit for. You are fully God and fully man. And even though our brains cannot fully fathom that, I thank you, that it's still the truth. And I thank you that as we continue to find ourselves in these stories, that we find a Savior, we find someone who was willing to save us from our ways and to be committed to reconciling us back to the Father. And I thank you that you gave your life so that we could have that. And I pray that we would have just so much gratitude in our hearts that would center us. And it's in your name we pray, amen.

Announcements

Dailyaudiobible.com is our website. That's our homebase. Check that out. You can also go to Facebook.com/dailyaudiobiblechronological, and that's also a good connecting place with other DABCers and other believers. So be sure to check that out as well. That is all for today. I'm China, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here, tomorrow.

Community Prayer Line

Good morning. D-A-B-C. Family, this is Rodney from Atlanta. I want to lift up a couple of family members in prayer today. Follow me. Thank the Lord for the day. We thank the Lord that you told us to come boldly before you're thrown in grace to come with confidence. Lord, I pray, Lord, right now for my family member of Atanya. God, we pray the Lord for her son, for the case that he has to go to court for. God I pray, Lord, right now, you are a lawyer in the courtroom. So God thank Lord right now for making this situation to your glory, that he will see your glory and he will give you the glory for the situation right now. God, I prayed for, for Abigail and for her sister Blossom, I come against that suicide spirit right now. You are a liar. I thank Lord for life in the name of Jesus, satan lose her mind and God, I think, Lord, for deliverance right now for Blossom, she'll rise up to do what you have called her to do. God, I pray, Lord, for Aaron and God for her missing brother in law. Lord, you know exactly where he is. So God, I pray, Lord, in the name of Jesus, that truth will surface right now and bring this burrow off back home safely. Let your angels cover him. In the name of Jesus, I come against any violent person coming to his realm right now. And God, I thank you for the finding of Abigail's brother in law. Lord, we give you praise right now. God, you are prayer answering God. And God, you send your word if we pray according to your will and your word that you will answer our prayer. God, you told, you were granted the petition we bring before you now. So God, thank you for answering prayer, and God, thank you for deliverance. In the name of the Lord Jesus, no weapon form against these family members will prosper. And God, I thank you for doing it right now. In the mighty name of Jesus we pray. Amen. Amen and amen.

Hello D-A-B-C family, this is Diana from Florida and I have a praise report to share. So of the two girls that I had requested prayer for that I am currently mentoring one of them who was set to give birth to her baby girl has already given birth and her baby girl is doing very well and she's doing very well and working out all the kinks of feeding and naps and all the things, but she is doing well. By God's grace. And we're still praying for my other Amenti who needs a car to keep her in prayer. But I just wanted to thank this community and Simone from Texas for persisting in prayer for them. I will come on soon to provide updates as those updates come up. What I did want to request prayer. About now is that the same young lady who just gave birth recently found out that her dad has cancer and it is very difficult for her and her mother and the family. This is her adopted family, she was adopted at a very young age. And so if you could please pray for them, pray for God to do a miracle in their lives. They are not Christians, neither is a young woman. This ministry, Florida is a ministry that works to help young ladies with their pregnancies and deliveries and doing life with them and encouraging them to come to crisis. So I pray that that be the case that her father may hopefully be. Love you all, bye.

Hi, this is Josh from Illinois, formerly from Indiana and I wanted to call in to call for Christie in Kentucky and her husband. Lord, you know everything that needs to go on with the body. We know exactly what needs to happen. So Lord heal the body. Lord, let it be whole in the name of Jesus.

Hey, this is Chassis from Kansas. I just wanted to call and just pray for those who don't call in because I know that we all are going through things even if we don't call in. So Lord, I was just coming to you and I lift up all of those who are in this community, this amazing Bible community that don't call in. Lord, we know that they are going through things as well. We lift up their prayers to you. We lift up the heartaches, the pain that they're going through, the loss, the grief. Lord, we also lift up their joys to you and thank you for those where we are so thankful that we can be in relationship with you God, thank you that you love us. Thank you that we can praise you and that we can be in this community. Lord, I thank you for Joe and Chyna and their family that they are healing. And Lord, I just thank you so much for their faithfulness to listening to you in Jesus name. Jill, China and Brian, I want to say thank you so much to all of you for when you say I love you at the end of the podcast every day. I don't know that you all realize how much that means. These past couple of months have been really hard for my family. My marriage was practically falling apart. Praise the Lord. He turned that around. We are better than we've ever been in our relationship. But on those really hard days just when you all said I love you at the end of the podcast, that honestly helped me get through the day because some days that was the only time I heard I love you. So God bless you guys, every single one of you. I love you all.

[percontaion-points]

Lifeblood chapter 16

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 16

How am I supposed to prepare Dior for what’s to come? I’m not prepared. Who’s to be her Troikan Barrister? Who will risk his—or her—life for a human who might cave under pressure? No one has volunteered yet.

I kind of feel like if nobody’s willing to die for you, then the court case should be cancelled, and you should simply stay over there.

Like JFC, nobody should have to go through their seconddeath because you chose so poorly in your firstlife. 

“But what about Javier’s free will? He refused our aid.” 

“His three-greats grandfather petitioned for a second chance.”

JFC, that’s so distantly related that it barely even counts. Why do you bother at that point?

General Agape is waiting for us at a table in back.

Okay, so like… I’m pretty sure that the author meant for this to be read in the Greek way, not the English way. Which are two completely different pronunciations, and obviously different words. 

But at the same time… The target audience is like 12-16 years old. Would you reasonably expect somebody in that age range to read this AND TO UNDERSTAND that the author was talking about “sacrificial love”? And not simply “mouth open in wonder”?

I’m not saying that there aren’t smart teens out there who love Greek mythology so much that they understand the reference. All I’m saying is that… bell curve, man. Most of the target audience will likely file the name into the same “weird name” as Ten and Sloan. 

Over the years, Javier grew into a hard-core guy’s guy, sleeping around, drinking as if alcohol poisoning was a myth to be challenged and making money by stealing cars.

[...]

“He’s been offered a covenant with Troika before but declined to accept. He believes equality is overrated.”

So, we know that Dior wanted to be a doctor and to help everybody (which is what she’s being punished with right now). Yet we’re also learning that her BOYFRIEND is a serial womaniser who commits grand theft auto and thinks that equality is overrated. 

Girl, quick question: what the fuck. 

This woman killed me, yes, but long before the madness drove her to strike, we shared a wealth of love and laughter. When my father refused to spend time with me, she played games with me. When my mother was too busy painting to listen to my childish babble, Lina sang songs to me. 

Literally the only thing that I’m getting from this is that Lina was both the parents that Ten never had. 

“I’ll be back,” I tell my aunt and move to Deacon’s side. In a matter of minutes, I’ll meet Javier Diez...and spar with Killian. Ready or not, here I come.

Chapter 16 summary: Ten is in full panic mode as she thinks about what Dior must endure for her own trial. Simply to risk that 10% chance to be free from the shit deal Killian tricked her into. 

Outside the courthouse, Levi finds them and tells Ten that her new mission is to go to Javier. That Killian is his new ML, and she’s to be his new TL. Kayla gives Ten a makeover, and then sends her to the library, where she gets the files about Javier. I said what I said about him and his behaviour. 

There’s a bit of time before she has to go meet with Javier and Killian, so she decides to go visit Dior, and then Lina. Deacon is her guard for this trip, so they first go to Russia. Dior looks really terrible, and Clay tells them that her darkness has been eating her from the inside out. But she knows now. Ten encourages her to keep fighting, and that if she does, this could all be over soon. It’s a speck of bright light in the otherwise dark storm of her life recently. 

Deacon then takes her to Lina. Who says another nursery-rhyme style prophecy. This one about a “fox in the henhouse eating a mouse”. It doesn’t take much for me to guess what that’s going to be about, but it’s a complete and utter “mystery” for Ten. 

#lifeblood #everlife series #bookblr #book review #scifi #dystopia #religious imagery #ya novels #romance novels

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter two rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

Moving and finding an apartment can be an incredibly long and stressful process. Unless you’re you, and life likes to throw a lot of curve balls at you for the utter hell of it.

Your dad dropped dead three weeks after you told Andy you were moving to New York. Coincidentally, right in the middle of you trying to find a place to live. He drank himself to death. Figures. You doubted you’d ever had a conversation with him that he was sober enough to remember. His untimely demise was unfortunate for him, because he died or whatever, but very fortunate for you. As his only child, you got his apartment in Queens and all his smelly hoodies.

You said your goodbyes to Andy and Dani after a night out in the streets of San Francisco. You had originally moved there after high school to start your show, The L/n Report. San Francisco was known for its crimes against the homeless population and you wanted to start with a story on that. You ended up interviewing Andy at the police station while investigating a missing person, and dated him for two years. Now, you were spending your last few hours in San Francisco with the very boy you once loved and the very girl he now did.

“Are you all packed?” Dani asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Pretty much. I gotta put my toothbrush and hairbrush in my suitcase in the morning. Other than that, I’m good to go.” You answered her. She smiled fondly at you as she linked her arm through yours.

“Hey, I’m really gonna miss you. More than that guy over there.” You whispered, nodding towards Andy, who had his head buried in his phone. Dani laughed and nodded in agreement as you continued to walk.

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re my best friend here.” She sighed sadly.

“I’m glad we’re friends. Most women in our position would hate each other.” You thought out loud.

“Uh uh. You’re thinking of women in films. It’s 2021, baby. Women support women. You and I are two talented, smart, beautiful women who would never be caught fighting over some boy. Especially not one who can’t take his eyes off his phone for two seconds.” Dani said loudly and smacked Andy’s arm. You laughed at the domestic moment but couldn’t help feeling a pain in your heart knowing he used to be that way with you.

“What, sorry?” Andy looked up. You and Dani looked at him before looking at each other and laughing.

“What’s funny?” He asked, growing annoyed.

“We’re laughing at you babe. Put your phone away. It’s Y/N’s last night here.” Dani scolded playfully. Andy sighed and reluctantly put his phone in his pocket.

“Right, sorry. And it’s not her last night here. She’s coming back. You are coming back, right?” He asked you. You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure.

“Of course I’ll be back.” You shrugged. “I just want to experience something new for a while. I’ve done a million pieces on homelessness and poverty. I want to see what fresh stories New York has to offer.”

“You’re quoting the Daily Bugle, aren’t you?” Dani teased you.

“That is verbatim what they said to me.” You admitted with a laugh. “But hey, it worked. As of tomorrow, I’m the Daily Bugle’s newest investigative reporter.”

“Who are you reporting on anyway?” Andy showed a rare interest in your work.

“Some guy named Cletus Kasady.” You answered. “He’s some hot shot serial killer down in Queens. No one knows how he’s hiding his victims bodies. Apparently none have ever been close to being found.”

“And they want you to write the story on him?” Andy raised an eyebrow, always with the condescending tone.

“Well they heard about the whole Carlton Drake situation and decided I hadn’t been through enough trauma in my career.” You replied, earning a laugh from Dani but not Andy. You and Andy had already broken up by the time Carlton Drake contracted a symbiote and tried to kill you and Venom. You stopped him before he could hurt anyone and wrote a career defining article on his lethal human experiments. You managed to leave out all information regarding symbiotes from the article, so your secret was still safe. You were a fairly well known reporter since the incident and your next job was waiting for you in New York.

In the morning, You and Venom got on a plane and made your way to New York. Being on a plane with Venom turned out to be the equivalent to traveling with a toddler. You tried to sleep, but every two seconds you had to stop Venom from getting into trouble. She kept trying to open the window, even after you explained to her that everyone on the plane would die horrible death if the window were to open.

“Stop that.” You whispered when you noticed a black tendril creeping towards the window. The lady in the seat next to you shot me a look of confusion. You gave her a fake smile and turned back to the window, doing your best to conceal the small black tendril that was coming out of your body and fidgeting with the airplane window.

“We want it open.” Venom replied telepathically.

“Do you also want us to blow out of the plane and into space?” You said through my teeth.

“We didn’t anticipate that but it’d be appreciated.” Venom answered, making you groan. The rest of the plane ride followed in similar fashion.

Seven hours later, you arrived at the apartment building. You had never been to your dads apartment, you didn’t even know he had one. You wondered what happened to your childhood home as you looked around the place. The apartment wasn’t too small but not too big either. The rent was practically nothing compared to how expensive San Francisco was, and The Daily Bugle offered to cover your expenses until the story was done. You figured after some redecorating and moving in, it would make a fine new home.

The first seven days in the apartment went by smoothly. You unpacked, with little to no help from Venom, and set up the furniture. On the eight day, you sat on the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels in the TV when you had a thought.

“Oh shit.” You said out loud.

“What?” Venom, who was curly nestled around your neck like a neck pillow, asked.

“I forgot mail exists.” You frowned. “We better go check the mailbox before it overflows.”

You and Venom grudgingly walked to the mailboxes and back again. No one was around, so she manifested herself and rested on your shoulder as I looked through the mail.

“Oops. I grabbed someone else’s mail too.” You clicked your tongue when you read a strangers name off the envelope. “I gotta find them.”

“Let’s go.” Venom said and pulled you towards the front door.

“Sorry, babe. This is a me thing, not a we thing. You know I love you but I don’t want to scare our neighbors. Not yet anyway.” You reasoned. Venom grumbled and went back inside your body.

You checked the address of the envelope and discovered that it belonged to the apartment directly across from you.

You knocked on the door and patiently waited for someone to open it as you mindlessly cracked your knuckles. Just as you were about to walk away, the door opened.

“Hi, are you May Parker?” You asked right away. You looked up from the envelope and your face instantly flushed. The person staring back at you definitely wasn’t May Parker. It was a boy around your age, maybe a little younger. He had soft brown eyes and wavy brown hair. It was gelled back loosely and you could see the outline of soft curls. To your surprise, he was just as flushed as you were. You stared at each other for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to blink.

“Yea. I’m May Parker.” The boy said finally. He shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head.

“I mean, no I’m not. But that’s my Aunt. May is my Aunt but I’m not May. That’s my Aunt May. I’m her nephew…obviously. Aunt May is my Aunt May. I…what?” He stumbled over his words and somehow turned even redder. His blush reached all the way down his neck, to his blue jumper that read “Midtown Tech” in yellow letters. You recognized the name of one of the most prestigious high schools in New York, already impressed with your new neighbor.

“Well hello, not May Parker. I’m also not May Parker. But I seemed to forget that when I grabbed your mail this morning. Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly as you handed his mail to him. The boy rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at it and attempted to redeem himself.

“It’s not problem. She and I always forget to check the mail so you actually helped us, um, whoever you are.” He smiled weakly. His voice was cute. He had that Queens accent that the people of San Francisco lacked, for obvious reasons.

“Oh, right.” You laughed in embarrassment. “I’m Y/N L/N. I just moved here from San Francisco. I live across the hall.”

You pointed to the door behind you as if he didn’t know what “across the hall” meant. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were never this awkward.

His eyes lit up a bit once you told him where you lived.

“Really? I thought that smelly guy lived there.” The boy said and you stifled a laugh.

“That smelly guy was my father. He died a little while ago so I live there now.” You told him, malign the boys eyes widen. They were so brown. Like little pools of honey. Or little pools of the Hudson River. You had seen a million pairs of brown eyes before, but none like his. They were quite distracting to be honest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I had. I had no idea-“ he began to frantically apologize but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. We never got along. And you’re right, that man stank.” You chuckled. It was the first thing you said that felt like your old self. You hadn’t really talked to anyone since moving to New York, with the exception of Venom and the occasional phone call from Andy or Dani. You liked talking to this boy, though you still had no idea who he was.

“Oh thank God. I thought I screwed this up before it even went anywhere.” He immediately turned red when he heard his own words. You saw the regret in his eyes and decided to throw him a bone.

“Well it certainly can’t go anywhere until you tell me your name.” You flirted. Again, he relaxed. You felt a surge of confidence knowing he wanted this to go well.

“Parker. I’m Parker Peter. I mean, Peter Parker.” He fumbled over his words again, making you smile fondly.

“We like him. He’s cute.” Venom said telepathically. You looked down at my shoes and blushed, knowing you liked him too.

“And he looks delicious.” She added, ruining the moment.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter Parker.” You gave him your best smile. “I’m glad there’s someone my age around here. Everyone I’ve met so far is either an old bitty or a creepy uncle type.” You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. You didn’t know what his sense of humor was like and he might not find you the slightest but funny. Andy always told you you were bad at telling jokes, and you feared he might be right.

Lucky for you, Peter burst out laughing.

“Ah. I’ve seen you’ve met Henry.” Peter pointed a finger down the hall. “Yeah, I’d stay away from him. He asked me if he could have pictures of my feet once. He said he’d “pay me handsomely” for it too.”

“Damn. So he beat me to asking you.” You pretended to be upset, which made Peter laugh again. The sound of his laugh made your heart pick up speed. You weren’t used to feeling like this. Boys rarely impressed you, Andy was just lucky you liked a man in uniform.

“Yeah. You better stay away from him.” Peter advised.

“It might be hard.” You clicked your tongue. “Our mailboxes are pretty close. I’ll make a mental note to never check my mail while wearing flip flops, though.”

Peter smiled at your joke. He had the kind of smile that you would make the person laugh just to see it again. It was brilliant.

“Well my mailbox should be directly above yours. So don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He grinned, and you grinned back.

“My hero.” You gushed as you put your hands over your heart. The tips of his ears went pink, like he was shocked that you said that.

“I’m no hero.” He sounded almost panicked, like you touched a nerve or something.

“We’re hungry. We need to eat.” Venom interrupted abruptly, causing you to jump. Since Peter couldn’t hear her, he looked at you strangely, not knowing the cause of your sudden jolt.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought I saw a spider.” You lied.

“If there was a spider, we’d eat it. We need food. Now.” Venom demanded.

Peter looked up at his doorframe for the imaginary spider.

“Yeah, New York is full of them.” Peter said skeptically. “Not that full, though. And some spiders are nice. One might even call them friendly.”

“Right.” You laughed at his strange wording, unaware that you were both keeping a secret.

“Would…” Peter began but trailed off, seemingly mulling something over in his head. “Would you like to eat dinner with my Aunt and I? I remember when we first moved in, it took us a while to get into the swing of things and make dinner every night. If you like, you could join us. And, you know, we could get to know each other.” He offered. It all came out in one breath. You could tell he was nervous and that only drew you in more.

“I’d love to Peter.” You said, and he smiled in relief.

“Great.” He gave an awkward thumbs up. “We usually eat around six so maybe come around then? She’ll be so happy to meet you. She loves cooking and she always tries to get me to learn but I once burnt cereal and I still don’t know how.” Peter began to ramble. He cut himself off and shook his head again. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Then, you did something stupid. You put your hand on his arm like the dumb bitch you were. You barely knew this guy. Who the hell were you to touch him? He must’ve been thinking the same thing, since he instantly froze under your touch and stared at your hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. I can’t cook either. Unless you count making tater tots as cooking. Then I’m Gordon Ramsey.” You assured him, feeling him relax under your touch.

“You’re just gonna mention tater tots without warning us first? Our mouth is watering. Can we eat Peter?” Venom asked, making your eyes widen.

If it was socially acceptable to scream at your symbiote in public, you would’ve yelled “NO, WE CANNOT EAT PETER” from the top of your lungs. But since you didn’t want to scare Peter and the rest of the neighbors away, you merely smiled and made another mental note to smack the shit out of Venom later.

“I love that man. “Where is the lamb sauce?” Peter mimicked in a bad British accent. He had no right being as charming as he was.

“No no no.” You shook your head. “His best line is “I’ll get you more pumpkin and I’ll ram it right up your ass. Would you like it whole or diced?”. He’s said some pretty wild things but that one makes me cry.”

Peters laugh rang through the halls. To be the cause of that laugh was a feeling like no other. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His eyes grazed down your body, but not in a crude way. You berated yourself for not dressing better when going to meet the neighbors, clad in nothing but a grey hoodie and some leggings. Peter looked cute, but you had a feeling he always did. His jumper was pretty baggy and you could see a collared shirt poking out the top. He was dressed almost professionally and you found it incredibly endearing.

You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know his secrets and his hobbies and what makes him itch. You wanted to see if he dresses this way on weekends too or what his summer clothes looked like. Your gawking was interrupted by Peters phone ringing. He broke out of his trance and answered it quickly.

“Hi, Mr. S. No I’m not busy. I mean, I’m super busy but I can totally make time for you. Yea, Happy talked to me. Okay. Okay. Where? Okay. See you in a bit.” Peter hung up and looked at you apologetically.

“That was my job. I have to run but I’ll be back in time for our dinner. I live at…you know where I live. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” Peter called as he ran down the hallway, towards the elevator.

“I won’t. See you later.” You called back.

You went back to your apartment and like a kid, broke out into a happy dance.

“Venom!! Did you see how cute he was?” You gushed. “And how funny he is? I have to get ready for tonight.”

Venom manifested and swirled around my arm.

“Someone has a crush.” Venom smirked. Well, as much of a smirk as she could muster with that huge mouth of hers.

“I don’t have a crush. I just think he’s cute okay?” You replied coyly. “Cute. And funny and sweet and charming and amazing. But that’s it.”

“We can feel your heart beat.” Venom reminded you. “It was going ten miles an hour. What would Andy say?”

You had been rummaging through your closet and stopped in your tracks. With Peters new inhabitance in your mind, you had forgotten all about Andy. You moved to New York to avoid his wedding and his moving on, and you might’ve succeeded.

“I don’t care what he’d say.” You decided. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But we want him to be.” Venom insisted. “We want him back, remember?”

“I don’t know what I want.” You answered honestly. “I just want to get ready for tonight.”

“Why are you getting ready now? You have 5 hours until you have to be there and it’s right across the hall.” Venom teased.

“Only 5 hours?” You sighed. “We better get moving.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron man

[study-coffee-chicago]

Stupid Game...But They’re All in High School This Time AU (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

Trigger warning for very graphic attempted sexual assault

"What are the rules?" Jay asked you as you double-checked your backpack to make sure you had everything for the first day of your freshman year of high school.

You sighed and zipped up your backpack. Your two older brothers, Jay a junior, and Will a senior, had already gone over and over this with you. "No spaghetti straps, no backpacks in class--"

"Not written school rules," Jay told you, abruptly cutting you off. "Unwritten school rules."

"Oh," you said as Will entered the living room, holding his car keys in his hand. "Walk on the right side of the hallways, always remember your locker combination or write it somewhere so you will remember it after long breaks, and no talking to the varsity football players unless it's Adam, Kevin, or Kelly because all the rest of them are absolute douchebags."

"There it is," Jay said and grabbed onto the handle of your backpack. "And if someone does this?" He tugged hard and you flew backward.

"Turn around and swing," you told him and quickly regained your balance once he let go.

"Jesus, Jay," Will said and smacked Jay upside the head, resulting in Jay letting out an ow in response. "Don't scare the poor girl. No one's gonna do that. It only happens in the movies." He turned back to you. "Don't listen to him."

"So, all that unwritten rules stuff I can just forget?" you asked.

"No, that was all legit. Just the backpack tug thing was a lie. Now let's go before--"

"Will, Jay, Y/N!" The three of you groaned when you heard your mom's voice calling you and then stepping into the living room. "Take off your backpacks and go on the front porch."

The three of you groaned again.

"Mom," Jay whined. "Do you we have to take a first day of school picture every single year?"

"Yes. And it's your brother's first day of senior year and your sister's first day of high school in general. So, get out on the porch and quit complaining. The faster I take this picture, the faster the three of you can leave."

You all grumbled and then went out on the porch to take a picture. Even though it was early September in Chicago, it was sweltering hot out. You thanked your lucky stars that Will's car had working AC because you knew that some of your friend's older siblings didn't have working AC in their cars and they always complained about how hot it was on the ride to and from school. But, it was better than taking the bus.

Once you had finished taking the pictures (and Jay pulled your hair in one of them so Will told Jay he has to sit in the backseat on the way to school and you got the passenger seat), you got in Will's car.

***

"So, meet you right here after school?" you asked Will when you entered the high school through the double doors of the main entrance.

"Yup. Jay, you got a ride home from soccer practice?" Will asked.

"Yeah. Adam's dropping me off at home. But I swear to God if I have to sit in the backseat one more time--"

"Give it a rest. I could've stepped on your foot, but I figured you'd need it for soccer. So, I let you off easy."

"Whatever," Jay mumbled.

You started to walk towards the freshman hallway and wondered why Jay and Will were still walking with you when you passed the junior and senior lockers. But, then you saw a huge group of varsity football players in the long hallway between the sophomore and freshman hallways, pointing at girls they thought got prettier or skinnier over the summer or new freshman girls for them to hit on or have a one night fling with.

"I'm gonna need to tell Kelly to keep his boys in line," Jay said to Will.

"No shit," Will replied.

"Don't you creeps have anything better to do?" Jay yelled at them. "And, I see at least three of you who are eighteen, so I'd recommend you stop ogling at minors and get back to watching tapes or something so we can actually make it to the playoffs this year."

"And what are you--" a football player who was obviously new on varsity stepped forward and started to say, but another one pulled him back.

"Dude, he's stronger than he looks and they're both best friends with Severide. So, shut the fuck up," he told the new varsity player.

"Yeah, listen to your friend," Will said. "C'mon, Y/N, just keep walking."

You did as he told you and shook off the weird encounter.

"They stop after homecoming," Will told you as he took a piece of paper from you and looked at what locker number you had.

"What do you mean after homecoming?" you asked.

Jay and Will shared a look. They had never told you about the game the football players had from late September/early October until homecoming which was usually mid-October/late October.

"We'll explain later," Will said. You walked a few more steps until you found your locker.

Next to you, there was a girl with blond hair who was wearing a flannel and jeans and brown combat boots who was helping a freshman with their locker as well.

"Alright," Will said. "So, this is your combination. Don't feel bad if you forget it after Christmas or spring break. Everyone goes to the office to ask for their combo when they get back, so don't feel embarrassed about it."

Will showed you how to unlock your locker, but it didn't budge. He tried it again. Nothing. Then, he let Jay have a go at it. Again, nothing.

"Need help?" the blond next to you asked. She was now done helping the other freshman with their locker.

Jay opened his mouth to tell her no, but you said yes faster than he could answer.

Will handed her the paper with the combination and she tried it. Nothing.

She looked down at another paper she was holding. "Ah, I know why this one isn't working. It's on the flagged list."

"The flagged list?" you asked.

"Yeah. They didn't have time to fix  some of the lockers during the summer, but they'll be getting to them this weekend, so you should only have to deal with it being crappy like this the first week," she answered.

She tried your combination again, pushed up on the lock, and then kicked the bottom of the locker.

It opened.

"Upton!" A teacher yelled. "No kicking lockers!"

"This one was flagged!" she yelled back. "Only way to get it to open!"

"Fine. I guess it's okay for this week." The teacher narrowed his eyes. "Halstead."

"Mr. Williams," Jay said and then turned back and rolled his eyes.

"What's up with him?" you asked Will.

"Yeah, Jay may or not have fired spitballs at Mr. Williams freshman year," Will answered.

"That was you?" the girl asked. "I remembered hearing that a soccer player did it, but I never got the name. Guess now I know it was you, Jay."

"Yes, it was me, Hailey." So, this girl's name was Hailey.

"Wait, you two know each other?" you asked.

"We had what, an English class together last year?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, first semester because then I got put in the honors class," Hailey said.

"That class always seemed so much more for than the normal class," Jay mused.

"Too bad you can't write papers for shit," Will told his little brother.

"Shut up," Jay groaned.

Will looked up at one of the digital clocks in the hallway. "We should get going," he said. "We've only got fifteen minutes until we have to be in homeroom."

"Good luck, fresh meat," Jay joked and you rolled your eyes as your two older brothers walked off to their wing of the school that housed their lockers.

"Want some help putting your things in here?" Hailey asked. "I have a pass to get to class half an hour late since I'm on student council and helping you guys out."

"Uh, sure, since you're here. Mind if I close my locker and then try opening it myself?" you asked.

"Go for it."

You closed your locker and then did the exact same thing she did to get your locker open, including the kick. It opened on your first try.

"Perfect!" Hailey said. You unzipped your backpack and you and Hailey stooped down to grab folders, binders, and notebooks out of it. "I'm sorry, I never actually introduced myself. I'm Hailey Upton."

"Y/N Halstead," you replied. "Those two doofuses who just left are my brothers, Jay and Will, seems like you already knew Jay, though."

"I mean, I don't really know him. I guess I know of him if that makes sense."

"Makes total sense."

The two of you continued to put stuff in your locker until everything was in there, just in time for the five-minute bell to ring.

You looked at your schedule. "You don't happen to know where Mr. V's room is, do you? My brothers told me it's not in the freshman or sophomore halls."

"Oh, yeah. You just go down the connecting hallway and past the junior and senior lockers and then you'll see-- you know what, I'll walk you there. It's kind of hard to find."

"Thank you."

"No problem. We've all been freshmen before."

***

Hailey entered her AP biology class just as the late bell rang. She took the first empty seat she saw...which ended up being next to none other than Will Halstead.

"Hey," Hailey said. "This seat wasn't saved, was it?"

"No," Will replied. "It's yours now." He looked at Hailey. "You were the one who helped my sister with her locker this morning, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm Hailey."

"Will," he told her.

"So," their teacher, Mr. Davis began, "since this is an AP class, there will be a lot more homework than a typical biology class. I also know some of you are juniors, so I hope that you take AP anatomy and physiology next year with me if you do well in this class. As for you seniors who are taking this AP class and AP A and P--which stands for anatomy and physiology by the way--I know that the first three chapters of this class overlap a lot, so I'm sorry if you get bored.

"But, the person you have chosen to sit next to, will be your partner for any projects we have this semester. And, they aren't typical projects like presentations and the like. They're mostly practice AP tests that I want you to take with another person so that you can talk over the answers and make sure you don't make the same mistake twice. Obviously, around February, I'll ask you to take the practice tests by yourself so that you can practice for the real tests.

"Every chapter there will be presentations. I will give each pair a sub-topic of the chapter and I want you to do a five to ten minute presentation on it for the class. I also want you to put together a Kahoot for your subsection after the presentation because I found that that makes students pay way more attention than when there isn't one because everyone wants to win."

Hailey raised her hand. "Yes, remind me of your name," he said when he pointed to Hailey.

"Hailey," she told him.

"Hailey," he repeated and scribbled her name on the piece of paper with the seating chart on his desk. "Oh, and after I go over all this, I would like all of you to come and write your name on the seating chart. Hailey of course won't have to write her name because she doesn't need to be on there twice. Anyway, what was your question?"

"I was just wondering how many practice tests we'll have to take and how often you were should meet up with our partner outside of school?" Hailey asked.

"Both great questions. For the practice tests, we'll start taking them in November because that gives us time to go over the format and content. Don't worry, I won't put any new content on the practice tests. I'm not that mean. You'll take one in November, one in December, and one in January. These will all be done with your seat partner. Then, from February on, you'll have one every month, but these will be taken by yourselves so that you get used to it before the actual test.

"As for meeting up with your partner, I'd recommend every two weeks. That way you won't fall behind on the presentations."

Hailey nodded and scribbled this information down in her notebook. But, she was also nervous. She couldn't let Will come to her house. She just had to hope that Will would have all the meetings at his house.

***

"How was your first day?" Will asked when you met him at the main doors after school.

"It was good. Not as scary as you guys made it seem. Still need to make sure I get to my classes on time, though," you replied as the two of you walked out of the building and through the parking lot towards his car.

"They'll give you a grace period to get to class on time," Will told you. "It's usually a week, week and a half until they start handing out tardies."

You were about to ask how his day was, when someone yelling stopped you.

"Nice ass, Halstead!"

Your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head as you and Will both turned around. Of course, it was a varsity football player who yelled that, of course, it was.

Will put his hand in front of you. "Y/N, I'm gonna give you my keys and you're going to unlock my car and get inside."

"Will, he's not worth it," you argued.

"Y/N, take my damn keys. I don't want you anywhere near this."

You relented and took his keys and then went and got in the passenger seat of his car. But, you watched as everything unfolded.

Will stalked up to the football player, who he knew was Derek Evans, the school fuck boy who every girl liked because he was a shoo-in to get drafted by the NFL right after high school and had really good looks even though he was a total sexist asshole.

"What the fuck did you just say to my sister?" Will roared.

"Said she had a nice ass," he replied while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"You son of a--" Will lunged at him but Kevin and Kelly ran in to hold him back. Turns out they were walking out of school and saw the entire exchange.

"Will! calm the fuck down!" Kelly shouted as he pushed Will back.

"Did you not hear what he said?" Will yelled as he kept reaching out to Derek.

Kevin was pushing Derek back, too.

"We did. But you can't be fighting on the first day. If you're gonna do it, do it somewhere else not on school grounds."

"Both you, take a damn breath and walk away," Kevin told them.

Kelly pushed Will back and then grabbed his arm and walked him towards his car while Kevin walked Derek towards the football field.

"You better fucking do something about that, Severide," Will told him.

"Believe me, I'll make sure he runs lap for the entirety of practice."

"I meant punch his face in."

"Can't do that, man. I got scholarships on the line."

"At least let me bring my baseball bat to school and bash his face in. If my batting average is any indication, I could knock him out and kill him in one swing."

"That would be murder and then you'd be in prison instead of going to med school." Kelly paused and took a deep breath. "I guess now's not a great time to tell you, but freshmen are up for grabs in the game this year. The players all said they weren't going to do it because the coaches banned it, but they're going to try and be sneaky. Only writing the points down on paper and burning it, no texting about it or putting it on social media, you can only talk about it on the phone or in person, and it can't be talked about at school."

"Fuck. So the girls won't really know what's going on until it starts."

"Exactly. Just, let Y/N know, okay? And have her pass it on to some of the other freshmen...because we both know if they go to Principal White he won't do shit."

"Yeah, he's as much of a son of a bitch as Evans. But, I'll tell her. Thanks, Kelly."

***

"Jay!" Will yelled when Jay walked inside all sweaty after his soccer practice.

"What? Dude, I need a shower," he said as he threw his soccer bag and his backpack down by the door.

"Better pick that up before Mom gets home. She'll be pissed if she comes home at 3 am and trips over it."

Your mom was a nurse and worked from 2:30 pm-2:30 am, which meant she only saw you in the morning for four days a week...even though she's only supposed to work three days a week, so 36 hours, but she always picked up an extra day so that she could put some money in all of your guys' college funds. Sometimes, she'd even work five days a week and she'd be exhausted once her week was over. But, she was the hardest worker you knew and inspired you to work as hard as you possibly could at everything you did; you never did anything half-assed because you never saw your mom do that. She always gave it her all.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want to shower," Jay said.

"Wait five minutes. This is important," Will told him.

Jay sat down on the couch next to him. "Fine. What is it?"

So, Will explained what happened when he and you walked out of school today and how Kelly had to hold him back so that he wouldn't beat Derek Evans to a pulp. He also told him that the game was still on...and this time freshmen are fair game.

"Fucking hell," Jay muttered.

"Yeah," Will agreed.

"Should we tell her?"

"Probably. The sooner the better, too."

"Okay. Let me jump in the shower and then we can tell her and tell her how to protect herself."

Ten minutes later, Jay was out of the shower and he knocked on your bedroom door, Will right behind him. When he didn't get an answer after a few rounds of knocking, he opened your door.

"She's sleeping. Guess we'll have to tell her when she wakes up," Jay said.

"As long as we tell her tonight," Will said. "The more time she has to prepare for what's to come, the better."

***

"Jesus. Fuck," you muttered as you rolled over and looked at the time on your phone. After stretching and jumping out of bed, you walked from your bedroom into the kitchen, to see your brothers both eating pasta. "Neither of you two bothered to wake me up? It's 6:30."

"Figured you needed the sleep," Will shrugged. "Dinner's in the fridge. Mom made lasagna."

You grabbed yourself a plate and then put some lasagna on it and put it in the microwave. Then you sat down across from Jay and Will who were both sitting on the same side of the kitchen table.

"How was your first day?" Jay asked.

"Good...other than Wiliams making me sit in the front right in front of his desk. I don't mind the front because then I can see the board easier, but his desk, really? This one's all your fault." You pointed your fork at Jay.

Jay held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, really wasn't thinking about you when I fired those spitballs."

"What were you thinking about?" Will asked.

"That I needed to aim for his head."

"My god, you're a child," you laughed. "And, Will about ripped a football player's head off today. I think his name was Derek? He would've, too if Kelly didn't hold him back."

"But he said you had a nice ass," Will quoted. "Pretty sure that warrants me ripping his head off."

"Will's right," Jay agreed. "I would've pushed past Kelly and beat Evans to a pulp."

"Good to know you guys have my back. But, I'm in high school now. You can't keep fighting my battles for me."

"Too bad," Will said. "You're stuck with us."

"Ugh," you groaned and took a bite of your lasagna. "How was your day, Will?" you asked once you had finished the bite. "Any talk of what the senior prank will be?"

"We didn't actually talk about that. But, the girl who helped you with your locker, Hailey, she's my partner in my AP bio class," Will answered. Jay coughed. "You alright there, Jay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Anyway," Will began, "she'll be coming round here a bit because we have to do these presentations. She said her brothers are usually home, so she'll probably come here most of the time. Oh, Y/N, she also told me to tell you that if there's ever a day where you can't find anyone to sit with at lunch, that you can always sit with her."

"Really? That's so nice of her. I wish I had classes with her," you said.

"Okay, since it's obvious neither of you is going to ask about my day because I'm the forgotten middle child," Jay started, causing both you and Will to roll your eyes, "I'm just gonna tell you. Nothing important happened. They just drilled that we have to take the SAT into our heads. Oh, and we have read like this 16th century crap in English 11, so that sucks."

"English 11 is the worst," Will agreed. "Good luck."

The three of you continued to eat and the Will started talking again when he and Jay were finished and you were almost done.

"So, Y/N, there's this sick and twisted tradition at school," Will began with a worried look on his face. "And it ends after homecoming."

"So that's what you were implying earlier," you said.

"Yeah, so what happens is that the football players kinda sorta get dares to do, but they aren't specifically dares. It's like there's a list of things they do with a girl and there's points attached to them. Like, apparently if a guy grabs a girl's ass in the hallway or anywhere else on the school's campus or at a school event, it's 50 points. But, since that's pretty tame, that's the only one that actually has to be done on campus. The rest of them can be off or on-campus...but they'd probably be off-campus," Will explained.

"I'm confused. So they get points for assaulting us?" you asked.

"Technically, it's just harassment...but some of the other ones could be classified as assault. But, those ones are supposed to be consensual, so the only risk you really run is having your butt grabbed in the hallway. Jay, you wanna take it from here?"

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered. "Usually freshmen are off-limits, but this year they changed the rules, so they're allowed. But, Kelly, Kevin, and Adam opted out because they're decent human beings, so if you see them in the hallway, you're safe; you don't have to be scared of them."

"But the rest...?" you trailed off.

"The rest of the varsity football team you need to be aware of."

"So, when does this game start and what do I do?"

"It starts in two weeks and goes on for a month, so until homecoming. As for what to do, well most girls just wear long shirts to cover their butts and not wear super tight pants," Jay told you.

"And if me or Jay have a class close to one of yours, we can walk you to your locker or to your next class. That should help a bit," Will offered.

"Thanks. That might help. But, why hasn't Mr. White stopped it?" you asked.

"Because he's as much of a sexist asshole as the football players. But, it's only a month. You can get through it," Will promised.

"God I hope so."

***

It had been two weeks since you started high school and in two days that stupid game of grab ass would begin. Hailey and Will were currently working on their presentation in the kitchen and Jay was playing at an away soccer game...which is where your mom was, too. You were sitting in your room working on your planner for next week.

You looked at your planner and saw Monday was circled and said The Game in black ink. God, why did guys have to be such sexist pigs? Just because they were the football players didn't mean they got on pass on all the school rules and hell, even all the general rules of society.

You shook your head and turned up your music and started writing in your classes for that week in your planner.

A few songs later, you thought you heard a knock on your door, so you took out one of your headphones. "Yeah?" you asked.

"Y/N, it's Hailey. Can I come in?" she asked from the other side of your door.

"Yeah," you told her as you took out the other headphone and paused your music. "What's up?" you asked when she entered.

"Will told me you're really nervous for the game starting this week?" she motioned to the spot next to you on your bed. "Can I sit?" You nodded and she sat down. "Honestly, you just have to be on high alert for a whole month. Try to walk by other people whenever you can and, I think Will said they already told you this, but don't wear tight-fitting clothing."

"They did. I just don't know what to wear."

"Well, I can help you with that. Let's go through your clothes and we'll take out what you can't wear during this and put it in another drawer, okay?"

"That sounds good." You closed your planner and you and Hailey began going through your dresser and closet.

"Another tip," she started, "if you have the chance to knee one of them in the balls, then do it. Why do you think they stopped coming after me halfway through the game last year?"

"You kneed a football player in the balls?" you asked as your eyes went wide.

"Mhm. Did it to the captain of the football team last year. He was a senior, so he's not here anymore, but now all the football boys know not to mess with me."

"I will most definitely keep that one in mind."

***

Jay met up with you that Thursday after one of his classes because it was in the same hall as yours. "Day going good?" he asked as his eyes darted side to side, clearly in overprotective big brother mode.

"Yeah, and no one's tried anything yet, so I guess that's a good thing," you told him.

You were focused on dodging people in the hallway so you had time to stop by your locker and change out your books, go to the bathroom, and then get to your next class all within the span of five minutes (your school really needed to make passing time at least seven to eight minutes instead of five), so you didn't hear the booming laughter of a few varsity football players behind you...but Jay did.

"Back the fuck off," Jay growled as none other than Derek Evans reached out to grab your ass. But, Jay stopped him by turning around and walking backward to shield your backside and then grabbing Derek's outstretched hand.

"Aww, look guys, the little freshman needs her big brother to protect her," Derek mocked.

"From you, yeah she does. You're a sick fuck, Evans...and that goes for your posse, too."

"Let go of my hand, Halstead."

Jay narrowed his eyes, but he let go. "Next time you try to grab my sister, that arm will be twisted so far back behind you that you can kiss your senior season goodbye."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and then turned around to go back the other way, towards his actual class.

"Thanks," you said as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Don't mention it."

***

Jay made his way out of a classroom later that day and saw Hailey, so he made his way over to her.

"I don't need protecting, Jay," she told him.

"I know," Jay replied. "Everyone knows about you kneeing the captain last year. Great job on that by the way. I know I'm a year late, but that was a good move on your part."

"Thanks. It was just a reflex, honestly."

"And thanks for helping Y/N with the clothes thing. She was really nervous."

Hailey waved a hand flippantly. "That was nothing, just a girl helping another girl out."

"As the world should be," Jay agreed. Hey, his mother taught him to look at women as equals and he was going to treat Hailey as such...now that he knew she could protect herself from all these assholes. Because if she hadn't kneed that captain where the sun don't shine last year, you best believe he'd be on high alert for the varsity football players just like he was with you a few classes ago. "So, our practice got canceled because of the rain and the football game got canceled, too. So, me, Adam, and Kelly were gonna go out for tacos at that place across the street, but Adam's bringing his girlfriend, Kim, and Kelly's bringing his girlfriend, Stella, and I don't want to third-wheel, so do you maybe want to go with me? That is if you don't have to be home right after school."

Her dad didn't get home until 5:30. "Sure," she told him. "I just have to be home by 4:30. But, I normally take the bus, so unless one of you can bring me home, I can't come." She figured getting home an hour early would work well so that she wasn't rushing.

"Adam's bringing me home, so I'm sure he can stop by your house, too. Where do you live?" Jay asked. She told him her address. "That's only a block away from me. I'm sure he can bring you home. I'll text him and then text you." He held out his phone. "Put your number in."

So, Hailey put her number in his phone. Then, she handed it back to him and they hurried to get to their respective classes before the late bell rang.

But, she was wondering why she was blushing so much as she turned away and why all these butterflies had erupted in her stomach when their fingers brushed against each other's when she handed his phone back to him. She wasn't falling for Jay Halstead. There was no way, right?

***

"So, party this weekend. Everyone in?" Adam asked as the six of them ate tacos.

"Whose house?" Kelly asked.

Adam said a name of a football player and told them it was Saturday night,  and they all agreed to go...except for Hailey, who spouted off some excuse about how she had to be up early on Sunday, so she couldn't go. Jay was disappointed that he wouldn't have an excuse to dance with her, but he figured there'd be other parties.

"Mom's working that night," Jay said. "So, as long as I'm home by like 2:45, I should be good. Will will probably be down, too. Then Natalie will probably come."

"Great. I'll text him so he knows how much beer to have his older brother buy...but I'm sure they'll buy extra because more people usually show up anyway."

They talked and ate for another hour before they had to leave so Hailey could get home on time.

Jay and Hailey sat in the backseat of Adam's car while Adam and Kim sat in the front.

When they pulled up to Hailey's house, Jay offered to walk her to the door, but she told him no, that he didn't have to. He insisted, but she still said no, so he let it go and she got out of the car and went inside her house.

"Dude, you so like her," Adam said as they drove another block to his house.

"I do not. I don't know what you're talking about. She's just a friend," he argued.

Adam snorted. "Yeah right. And I'm the fucking king of England."

"You should ask her to homecoming," Kim suggested.

"Kim! Not you, too!"

"It's obvious. You should ask her. She might just surprise you."

***

You woke up Saturday night to your phone ringing and breaking you out of a peaceful sleep. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the time and the caller. Why the hell was Jay calling you when it was past one in the morning?

"Hello?" you asked sleepily.

"Y/N, me and Will need your help," Jay said.

You immediately sat up. "What do you mean? I thought you were home. Where the hell are you?"

"We went to a party and we couldn't risk you telling Mom, so we snuck out around 11 when we knew you were sleeping. But, Kelly's the DD and he had two drinks, so he can't drive us home. He's not drunk off his ass, but if we get pulled over and they pull out a breathalyzer, we're all shit outta luck."

"Why can't you do it?" you asked. "You sound pretty sober to me."

"I'm two and a half beers deep and it'll probably be four by the time you get here."

"Fucking  hell, Jay. And me? You seem to forget that I don't have my license yet, just my permit. I can't come get you. You're just gonna have to wait until Mom gets home and call her."

"No! No way is Mom finding out!"

"What's in it for me? I'm not breaking the law and coming to get your dumbasses for free. And I need something from both you and Will."

"Fine," Jay huffed. "Name your price."

"You do my laundry for a month and Will does my algebra homework for a month."

"Two weeks. We'll do those for two weeks," Jay said.

"No. Three weeks or I'm not coming and you get to suffer the wrath of Mom."

"Fine," he relented. "I'll text you the address."

***

You drove Will's car like an old grandma on the way to the house party, sometimes going ten miles under the speed limit. There was no way you were getting busted for your brothers.

You turned off your car and parked in the closest spot you could find to the house where the party was at. Then, you pulled out your phone and texted both Jay and Will that you were there.

Five minutes passed...then ten and still no answer from either of them.

"Fucking hell," you muttered as you unbuckled and then grabbed the keys and got out of Will's car and locked it, safely zipping the keys in one of your sweatshirt pockets. "I swear to God if both of them are three sheets to the wind and I have to drag their asses out of there, I will not be fucking happy."

You started to walk towards the party, looking at your phone every couple of seconds to see if either of your brothers had texted you back.

You gasped when you felt someone grab your ass.

"Fifty points," he whispered in your ear and then grabbed your wrist.

Derek Evans.

"Let me go!" you told him as you tried to pull away from him.

"No can do, freshman. It's 500 points for fucking a freshman and there's no way I'm passing up that opportunity."

"Let me go!" you screamed. You even dropped your phone to the ground to try to use your other hand to pry his hand off your wrist. But, he just laughed and kept holding you. Then, he stomped on your phone, breaking it into pieces.

You kept screaming, but the music was so loud that no one could hear you. And, you tried to dig your heels into the ground to stop him, but it was no use; he was too strong.

Eventually, he got tired of dragging you and just picked you up. You punched and kicked him, but it didn't seem to work. It was like this senior was immune to pain.

He got to a shed near the side of the house and quite literally threw you against it. You groaned and took a few deep breaths. In that time, Derek had ripped his shirt off and grabbed your wrists with one hand. You dug your nails into his hands. You weren't going down without a fight.

"That's cute," he laughed. "You think some nails are going to stop me."

He dragged you over a few inches and then used some of his shirt to secure your wrists to the fence that separated this house from the one next to it.

"Help! Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me!"

Your head flew to the right as he slapped you across the face. "Shut the fuck up!"

You whimpered and then started kicking your feet. But, he just walked away and watched you struggle as he removed his pants. Then, he sat on your legs. You couldn't kick anymore, so you started screaming even louder. He slapped you a few more times across the face until you finally  shut up because, fuck, that hurt. That just left you whimpering at his mercy as he fumbled with the string on your pajama pants. (You hadn't bothered changing your pants when you came to get your brothers, only threw on a bra on under your t-shirt.) You didn't know what to do. No one was going to save you and you were completely and utterly helpless.

***

Kelly Severide knew you were coming to pick them up as Jay had told him that when he was on his way to grab his fourth beer. He hadn't heard anything from Jay or Will yet but figured they were both shit-faced. So, he tried to text you. No reply. He tried to call. No answer.

So, Kelly walked out onto the back porch and started around the side of the house to see if you had parked. But then, he heard whimpering and what sounded like a slap and then a yelp. He started running.

When he saw what was happening, he saw red.

You were lying on the grass whimpering while Derek was just in his boxers. You wanted him to stop smacking your thighs and face because god, you were fucking hurting and you were also fucking terrified about what was going to happen next.

"Please," you whimpered. "Please, st--"

"You son of a bitch!"

Before you could even register who yelled that, Derek was thrown off of you and to the ground.

You caught your breath and just laid there panting and crying while Kelly did a number on Derek's face. He sent more punches to his stomach until he finally doubled over and groaned in pain. Then, he kicked him in the back and he fell to the ground. Kelly placed his foot on Derek's back. "Stay the fuck down you fucking bastard."

He pulled out his phone and called 911. "Hello, I'd like to report a sexual assault."

***

Will felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Kelly, where the hell are you, man?" he asked as he dirty danced with Natalie on the dance floor.

"Will, you need to come out by the shed now," he said, still with his foot on Derek's back, keeping him down. Kelly felt terrible that he couldn't untie you, but he couldn't risk Derek getting up and trying to finish what he started.

"Why? You snorting coke out there? Because count me out. I don't do that."

"No. It's Y/N. She was- she-- It's that stupid fucking game some of the bastards I call teammates are playing. An ambulance and the cops are on their way."

Will's mouth went dry. It went dry when he heard the game part, but now it was as if it was sandpaper.

"Jay's by me. We'll be there in a second."

Will pocketed his phone and let go of Natalie. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Y/N. I think one of those football players got to her."

"Fuck a freshman." Adam's eyes went wide as he let go of Kim.

"What? What about fucking?" Jay asked as he went to take another sip of his beer, but Will swatted it out of his hand.

"We need to go. Now." He grabbed Jay's arm. "Adam, explain."

The three of them started running, Jay barely being able to run in a straight line and Natalie and Kim hot on their heels, and Adam explained how he heard about one part of the game that was called fuck a freshman. But, he thought it was a joke because he didn't know for sure because he didn't sign up for the game.

"Well, obviously it's not a joke!"

Will saw Kelly with his foot on Derek's back before he saw you.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"Will!" you cried.

"Y/N, hold on. We're here, we're here." He knelt down next to you and untied the t-shirt that kept your wrists tied to the fence.

It took Jay a minute, but then he realized what happened...it also took Kim shaking him and telling him she was going to slap him across the face and then actually doing it. Now that sobered him up.

You could hear sirens in the distance.

"Me and Natalie will go get them," Will said. "You three good here?"

"We're good. Now go get help," Kelly said.

***

The ride to the hospital was a blur. You were still freaking out, so the paramedics had to give you a light sedative to calm down. You remembered your brothers being in the back of the ambulance with you and you remembered Jay puking in a bucket from all the beer he drank.

You vaguely remembered the doctors asking you questions and taking pictures of your bruises. You also remembered them telling the three police officers that they couldn't question you yet. And then, you fell asleep.

***

You slowly opened your eyes and squinted against the bright hospital lights.

Damn, it must've taken me a helluva long time to get the boys out of that party if I'm waking up when the sun is this bright, you thought to yourself.

But, then you looked at your surroundings and it all came flooding back to you.

"Mama, Mama," you cried.

"I'm here, honey, I'm here," she said as she gently grabbed your hand.

You tried to sit up, but your thighs and stomach hurt so bad from Derek hitting you that you couldn't.

"I want a hug but I can't sit up," you cried as tears started to stream down your face.

She stood up and bent over the bed and wrapped her arms around you. It was an uncomfortable position for her because she was bending over to hug you, but she didn't care. You were her little girl and she'd do anything to make you feel safe and loved.

Will and Jay sat in the chairs on the other side of your bed. You hadn't even realized they were there. Will had tears in his eyes and Jay had a hand over his mouth trying to stop a sob from coming out. God, if he wouldn't have called you to pick them up, then this wouldn't have happened. It was all his fault this happened to you.

A knock on the door sounded and your mom let go of you and the two of you looked towards the door.

It was Hailey.

Jay looked to you to see if it was okay that she came in and you nodded.

"Hey," she said as she entered. "I brought donuts. Figured you might be hungry."

You were glad she didn't ask if you were okay because it was apparent that you most definitely were not okay.

You nodded and she walked over to you and opened the box. "You get first pick."

You picked a raspberry-filled one and then proceeded to take tiny bites of your donut. It hurt too much to open your mouth a lot because your cheeks and chin were heavily bruised.

You almost finished your donut, when there was another knock on the door. This time it was three police officers. Then, they opened the door.

"Y/N, I'm Trudy Platt and this is Detective Alvin Olinsky and Detective Hank Voight. We're here to take a few statements about what happened," the officer told you.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked. You did drive without a license.

"No, not at all. We just need to know what happened. We can give you a minute to finish eating if you would like?"

"Can I do it now?"

"Of course." She turned to your mom. "Mom, you want to stay in the room?"

"If I can--"

"I don't want you to know the details, Mom. Please," you pleaded as more tears fell.

"Are you sure? I'll love you no matter what, honey. Good or bad, you're still my little girl."

"I know. But I just- I want to be alone."

"Okay, me and the boys and Hailey will be right outside."

The four of them left and the two detectives left as well, leaving only you and this officer known as Trudy Platt.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked when the door shut.

"Oh, honey, no," Trudy said as she sat down in the seat your mom was previously sitting in.

"But, I drove without my license be- because they asked me to pick them up and then- and then--"

"Y/N, you are not in any trouble. Kelly Severide told us most of the story about what happened, but we need to hear it in your own words. And you can take as long as you want. Take as much time as you need."

So you told her what happened.

"It's all my fault. If I would've never agreed to go pick up Will and Jay--"

"This is not your fault. None of this is your fault," she told you.

"But why does it feel like it is? If I could've just fought him off, maybe this wouldn't have happened." You wiped your eyes with the heels of your hands and let out a strangled sob which was more like a yell. "Why do boys get away with everything?"

She pulled the chair closer to your bed. "Y/N, you have my word that he won't be getting away with what he did to you. I promise you he won't get away with it."

"But how do you know that? You can't possibly know that!"

"Because I have two of the best detectives working with me and I just know that he won't get away with what he did to you."

After a few more minutes and explaining that you really didn't want to go through a trial, Trudy left the room. She also handed you her card in case you changed your mind about the trial.

Then, Trudy Platt went to the bathroom where she saw the other girl who was in the room with you while she was washing her hands. As the girl was scrubbing her hands, Trudy noticed a bruise on her arm, a little above her wrist. It was low enough that it could be hidden by long sleeves, but that it could also ride up when the girl was washing her hands.

"You're one of Y/N's friends?" Trudy asked.

"Yeah. Me and her brother got paired up for a project and I was supposed to meet him this morning, but he texted saying family emergency. So, I thought I'd bring them breakfast," Hailey answered.

"That's very kind of you. Were you at the party last night?"

"No, I was at home."

"Is that where you hurt your arm?"

Hailey quickly pulled on her sweatshirt sleeve "No, I uh, I hit it on my locker a few days ago."

Trudy knew this girl was lying. She had worked enough domestic and child abuse cases to know the usual excuses. So, she pulled out her business card and handed it to Hailey. "This is my business card. My cell phone number is on there as well. Call me if you need help getting out."

***

Trudy, Hank, and Al entered the district and then went into the basement where there were no cameras.

"I think we can all agree on not putting that the girl was driving without a license in the reports," Trudy started.

"Agreed," Al said. "What about the boys?"

"We leave out that they were drinking, too," Hank said. "The only people who know that they were drinking are us three and them since they obviously can't take a breathalyzer now, there's no use in putting it in the reports. They were just kids being kids."

"Yeah, except for the asshole who assaulted her," Al stated.

"Yeah, except for him. We're throwing the book at that bastard," Hank agreed.

"She said she didn't want to go through a trial," Trudy said.

"What? Why not?" Hank asked.

"She said that she didn't think that anyone would believe her. He's a senior who everyone likes, hell, this whole town knows he's going to be drafted. So, she thinks he wouldn't get in trouble if he does actually go to trial."

Hank sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Well, we have 48 hours to hold him, and then me and Al will figure out how to take care of this."

***

"Are you hungry?" your mom asked when you got home later that day. The hospital had discharged you since all your injuries were superficial, such as the bruises on your face, wrist stomach, and thighs.

"No," you muttered. "I'm gonna go to my room."

"Okay, well if you want to be alone, that's fine, but I took FMLA leave, so I'll be home for a while. Take all the time you need, honey."

You nodded and then walked into your room and cuddled under your blankets. Since it was the afternoon, there was still a bit of sunlight coming in from beneath your blinds, which you were thankful for. You turned on your fan and allowed it to blow lightly on you. You were glad that you always used your fan for white noise so that you could sleep, but it also helped to muffle your quiet sobs as you cried into your pillow.

Meanwhile, Hailey, Will, Jay, and your mom were in the kitchen. Hailey had come home with you and your family so that she and Will could work on their presentation. She said it was fine, that she could go home, but Will said working on the presentation would be a welcome distraction.

"What's FMLA leave?" Jay asked.

"It's the Family Medical Leave Act," she answered as she sat down at the kitchen table. "It means I can have up to twelve weeks unpaid leave at work and still be guaranteed a job when I get back. But, I'll probably just take half of that, because uh, I won't be making any money during that time."

"I can see if I can get my summer job back," Will immediately offered. "I know I said I can only work during the summer, but I can work on the weekends even if it's only ten hours a week and I've only been off for a month, so they should probably be able to rehire me--"

"Honey," your mom said, cutting him off. "I really appreciate you thinking of that. But it's your senior year and you're taking four AP classes. School comes first. We'll get through it. This is only temporary and I do have a savings account in case of emergencies and we should be fine."

"Okay, well, you can always tell me to talk to my boss if I need to," Will said. Then, he turned to Hailey. "I'll go grab my stuff and then we can work on the project."

Will walked away to his room, leaving Jay, your mom, and Hailey. "Can I get you anything, Hailey?" your mom asked. "Water, coffee?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine," Hailey said. This wasn't about her. She knew that you needed your mom and that your mom needed time to feel what happened as well. "Thank you, though."

"I'm gonna go check on Y/N and then go for a drive. If anything happens with her, Jay, I need either you or Will to call me right away."

"We will, Mom, don't worry."

Your mom pulled Jay into a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom." Normally, Jay wouldn't have hugged his mom when his friends were around--or whatever he considered Hailey--, but he knew his mom needed it, so he returned her hug.

"Be back soon."

Then, she checked on you and seeing that you were asleep, grabbed her keys, and left.

"I'm gonna put on a pot of coffee," Jay said. "I know you said you were good, but you can have some if you want." He made his way to the cupboard and grabbed the container of ground-up coffee beans and started putting them into a filer.

"Thanks. Might take you up on that when me and Will are working. A little liquid focus never hurt anyone," she replied.

"No doubt."

Hailey paused, she wanted to keep talking with Jay but didn't know what to say. She didn't want to mention last night either. "So, are you taking any AP classes?" she asked. "You know, since Will's apparently taking four."

"Will's a psychopath and no, I'm not. Too much work if you ask me. If I was planning on going to college, I might take a few, but I'm not."

"Oh. Then what are you planning to do?"

"Maybe the army. My mom doesn't like the thought of me fighting in wars, but she supports my decision. I just don't feel like studying is for me."

"What branch?" Hailey asked.

He raised his eyebrows at how interested she was. "I was thinking the Army Rangers. They're the first ones on the ground in war zones."

"Sounds dangerous. You're practically flying blind."

"Oh, but that's what makes it fun."

Hailey laughed. "You're an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I love rollercoasters...and anything else that gets my heart racing."

"Hear about that new coaster at Cedar Point?"

"Yeah!" Jay exclaimed. And, before he even had time to process what he was about to say, he blurted it out anyway. "Maybe we could go together sometime."

Did he just ask me out? Hailey thought to herself. "I'd like that." She smiled.

"Am I invited?" Will asked as he walked down the hallway, overhearing their conversation.

"Uh," Jay blanched.

"Dude, chill. I know you were trying to ask her out--"

Jay's phone rang before he could yell at Will to knock it off and Hailey just took a seat at the table blushing really badly while she did so.

"It's Kev," Jay said while glaring at his older brother. "I gotta take this." He accepted the call and started to walk down the hall to the bedroom that he shared with Will. "Hey, man."

Jay closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed. "Adam just told me that Evans tried to rape your sister?"

Jay ran a hand down his face. "Uh, yeah, if Kelly wouldn't have gotten there when he did, who knows what would've happened."

"Is she okay? Is he in jail? Is she in the hospital?"

Jay knew that Kevin would react protectively since he had a younger sister, Vanessa, who was in seventh grade, just two years younger than you.

"I mean, physically her injuries are just bruising." He took a deep, shaky breath to stop himself from crying. "I think they're holding Evans and we just got home from the hospital. Y/N's sleeping now."

"Evans is so fucking lucky I wasn't there. Adam said that Kelly beat his face in pretty bad, but I'd do worse. I probably would've killed him, at least given him brain damage from a concussion."

"You and me both."

"And, uh, Adam said the cops are gonna talk to all the football players?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah. The detective did mention that. He also told me and Will not to go after Evans, but--"

"You're not gonna listen?" Kevin asked.

"I'll probably wait two weeks so he thinks he's safe and then go after him. You're more than welcome to help."

"I'll cover for you that night."

"Thanks, man. So, the cops talk to you yet?" Jay asked.

"Not yet. But I really don't have anything to say. I didn't participate and I would never participate. Might mention that White never tried to stop it and Coach Davis said it was off-limits, though."

"You think Davis knew what was going on?" Jay asked.

"There's no way. If he knew, he would've kicked all of them off the team. He doesn't fuck with stuff like that. White, on the other hand, well, we both know how that cat rolls."

"I should've mentioned that when they were talking to me earlier this morning. I was just, I was so worried about Y/N."

"I get it. I'd be the same way if this happened with Vanessa. I'll tell them about it. You just make sure she's okay. And, if you, her, Will, or your mom need anything, gimme a call. I'd be happy to help."

"Thanks, Kev."

"Good luck planning your revenge. Tell me what the cover is."

"Oh don't worry, I will."

***

Two weeks later

Jay popped the screen out of his window. "You can put this back in, right?" he asked Will.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Go give Evans hell for what he did to Y/N," he replied as he got out of bed and stood by the window.

"You know, still time for you to come with me."

"I got accepted to college already. I'm not about to jeopardize that. Cover still that Kev called and needed help babysitting Vanessa and Jordan?"

"That's the one. I'll crash at his house after this is done just so it seems believable. See you tomorrow."

"See you. Don't get beat up too badly."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah right."

Then, he started the three-mile walk to Derek Evan's house.

So, Jay had decided not to actually beat him up because his parents were home and he didn't want to have to deal with the parents. Derek and the cops he could handle, but having his parents yell that they want to press charges and scream at him, yeah no. He had stashed a can of black spray paint in a bush in his front yard and grabbed it when he was leaving. He planned on spray painting rapist on Derek's white car. Even though he didn't technically rape you, he tried to, so the word still stands.

Jay got there and pulled his hat down over his face. Then, he walked up the driveway and to Derek's car. He shook the can of spray paint and took the cap off. His finger was down on the button--

"Chicago PD!"

Fuck.

***

"Your last name's Halstead?" the cop who picked him up asked when they entered the 21st District.

"Yes, sir," he answered, his head hanging low and the can of spray paint still in his hand.

"Well, I need you to take a seat right there while I make a phone call. Do not move."

"Yes, sir."

Jay sat down on the bench across from the front desk and pulled out his phone. He sent texts to both Kevin and Will.

Cops caught me. At a police station right now. Will, don't you fucking dare tell Mom.

They replied that they were shocked, but Kevin said he could always come pick Jay up if he needed it. He figured Jordan and Vanessa would be okay by themselves for half an hour. And Will promised he wouldn't tell Mom...unless Jay needed bail money, then he'd have to tell her.

"Halstead," a gruff voice barked from the side of him.

Jay looked up to be met with one of the detectives who had worked your case. But, instead of being in his uniform, he was in normal clothes. The only thing that could tell anyone that he was a cop was the badge pinned to his jeans and the gun in its holster at his side.

Jay stood up.

"I had a feeling something like this might happen," Hank Voight stated. "So, I put a patrol car in front of the Evans' house."

"Am I under arrest?" Jay asked.

"You're not. But follow me."

Hank opened the door to the office next to where the bench was and Jay followed him in.

"Have a seat." Jay sat down in the chair in front of the desk and Hank sat in the chair behind the desk. If Jay didn't know any better, he'd say he was in the principal's office. "Jay, listen."

"Wait, how do you know I'm not Will?" Jay asked.

"I know that Will had red hair. And, you told the responding officer your full name, remember?"

"Yes, sorry."

"It's okay. A little questioning never hurt anybody. But, Jay, listen. You can't go and beat this kid up or destroy or vandalize his property." Jay opened his mouth to protest, but Hank put a hand up to stop him. "I understand that you're angry and want to get revenge for your sister. But, that's not going to make it like it didn't happen. And, you'd be the one getting in trouble, not him. Severide already did a number on him."

"But, Y/N doesn't want a trial because she doesn't want to relive it!" Jay argued. "I just have to let him get away with it?"

"He's not going to get away with it, I can promise you that. I just don't want you to be the one getting in trouble for bringing a little justice to the world. I can promise you justice will be served, though."

"How? If there's no trial and I can't go after him, how will justice be served?"

"Jay, just let it run its course. Now, I'm assuming your mom doesn't know you're here?"

"No, she doesn't. I planned on going to a friend's house after."

"I'll drive you there. All this vandalism stuff will stay between me, you, and the patrolman."

Jay's jaw dropped. "Wow, thank you so much."

"Hey, I would've done the same thing if I was in your shoes. Now, c'mon, let's get you to that friend's house."

***

One month later

It was your mom's first day back to work. She said she would stay home longer if you wanted her to, but you told her you were fine. And, she thought that as well because you had been coming out of your room more these past two weeks.

You walked to the kitchen to go get some water which was normal for you. All you had been doing since you were almost raped was sleeping. You'd occasionally have dinner with your family, but that was it. You also started seeing a therapist a week after the attempted rape, which helped immensely. But, when she saw your symptoms, she had suggested anti-depressants after you had talked to her for a couple weeks. So, you were on them.

After a week, you started to gain some energy back. It wasn't back to normal yet, but it was enough that you would watch movies and tv shows, read, and journal in your room instead of lying in bed staring at the ceiling and sleeping all day.

You were on your way back to your room with your glass of water when you heard a familiar opening line to one of your favorite Disney Channel movies: Lemonade Mouth.

You poked your head into the living room. "Are you guys watching Lemonade Mouth?" you asked your brothers.

"We were gonna change it to watch some hockey," Jay said. Then, he saw Will's pointed look. "But, if you want to watch Lemonade Mouth, then we can."

Will paused the tv. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"We're sure," Will replied. "I'll go make us some popcorn while you get comfortable."

And thus started the plan of watching a movie every night to get you out of your room. Sometimes, Will would have too much homework, so you'd watch a movie with Jay. Sometimes Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with Will. Sometimes, Will would have a ton of homework and Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with your mom. Either way, it was nice to know that they were there for you and that you didn't have to talk about anything with them.

"Hey, like my new shirt?" Jay asked.

"When did you go shopping?" Will asked as he looked up from his textbook.

"Practice got canceled because Coach is sick and Hailey wanted to get some food and go to Goodwill, so we got food and went to Goodwill."

"Jesus, man, you are so whipped. Didn't you just become boyfriend and girlfriend last week?"

"Yes. Y/N you-- what's wrong?"

Your breath was caught in your throat and you felt like you couldn't breathe. If you could see yourself right now, you knew you'd look like a ghost.

"Nothing. I- I just need to get some water and then I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Okay," Will started, "you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, but you also grabbed your bottle of antidepressants and put them in the pocket of your sweatshirt. Then, you made your way to your bedroom and locked the door.

How the hell did Jay manage to find the exact same shirt at a thrift store? It was a navy blue shirt with the Abercrombie and Fitch logo on it...the same exact shirt Derek was wearing on the night of the party.

It all came flooding back to you. You screaming...him slapping you...you crying...

You couldn't breathe.

"Ahhh!" you sobbed and dropped to your knees and curled up into a ball, taking the pills out of your pocket.

You continued sobbing and then you heard a knock on your door and heard the doorknob rattle.

"Y/N, Y/N, I need you to open this door," Will told you.

"No! Leave me alone!" you yelled.

"Can't do that. Mom left us in charge since she went back to work. If you don't open this door in three seconds, we're coming in somehow."

He got to two and you relented and opened the door.

"Y/N...what--"

You thrust the bottle of pills in his hand. "Take them! Take them, please!"

"Were you...?"

"I don't know! I don't know, Will! Just get them away from me!"

He pocketed them. "Okay, what's going on? What happened?"

Jay came around the corner.

"It's the same- the same--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath for me and then we can talk about this."

After five minutes of Will calming you down, you were finally able to catch your breath enough to talk.

"Jay's got the same shirt!" you wailed.

"The same shirt as who?" Will asked gently, careful not to touch you for fear that it would send you into another anxiety attack.

"Derek!"

Will turned around. "Jay, go rip that fucking shirt off and fucking burn it!" Jay just stood there, shellshocked. "Jay!"

He turned around and went to his room to take it off and get rid of it.

"Now, can I give you a hug?" Will asked. You nodded and allowed him to embrace you. When he pulled away, he asked, "Were you really going to do that? With the pills?"

"I- I don't think so," you told him. "I just saw them when I was getting water and grabbed them. I don't want to die."

"That's good. That's really good. But, you know we have to talk to Mom about this, right?"

"Yeah. And, I know I'm supposed to go back to school next week, but I- I don't think I can handle it, Will."

"Then we'll talk to her about that, too."

Jay ran out of his room--in a different shirt--holding his phone in his hand and looking frantic. "We have to go now!" he yelled.

"Why?" Will asked. "Where?"

"Mom just called and said she had to check out Hailey in the hospital."

***

"Hailey!" Jay yelled as he entered her room. He saw her bruised face and her arm in a sling. "Baby, what happened?"

"He- he--" And then she erupted into sobs and reached her good arm over to Jay.

You noticed that one of the officers who worked your case was also in the room.

"Hailey, honey, do you want to press charges?" Trudy Platt asked.

"I can't!" she wailed as she lifted her head off of Jay's chest. "I know I called you, but he's my dad!"

Jay let go of her. "Your dad did this? That son of a--"

"Jay!" your mom yelled.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Hailey reached for her water, but you noticed it was slightly out of her reach so you handed it to her. You hated seeing the girl who you considered your best friend in this much pain, at the hands of her father of all people.

Since you were only in school for less than a month before everything happened and didn't have time to form real, long-lasting friendships you didn't really have any close friends besides Hailey. And now, you knew how she felt when she saw you in that hospital bed six weeks ago.

"Hailey, I can't let you go back to that house," Trudy said.

"But I don't want to press charges! Can't you just pretend you didn't see that? That I didn't call you?" Hailey argued.

"Honey, since you're a minor, I'm supposed to press charges no matter what."

"But he's my dad!" she cried. "I know he's horrible, but I don't want him to rot in prison."

"Hailey, listen to me," Trudy began. "I am giving you an out here. I won't press charges, but for me not to press charges, I need you to be in a safe home."

"You're saying I need to find to find someplace else to live?" she asked.

Trudy nodded.

"Mom, can she...?" Jay asked as he looked up at his mom.

In that moment, your mom saw in Hailey what she had seen in you six weeks ago: a scared little girl who needed the comfort and love of a parent. And, your mom knew she wasn't her actual parent, but she had been over so much recently that it was hard for her to see Hailey as just one of Will's classmates...especially now since she was your best friend and Jay's girlfriend.

"She can stay. As long as she doesn't mind sharing a room with Y/N," your mom agreed.

And, it was that day that Hailey Upton decided that she wanted to become a cop.

***

Hank Voight pulled over Derek on his way home from school.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Derek asked as he rolled down his window.

"First of all, it's detective. And second of all, there is a problem. The problem is that you almost raped a girl," he stated.

"And she didn't file charges, so until she does, I didn't do that."

Hank reached over and grabbed Derek Evans by the collar. "Listen here. In two weeks, you are going to write a letter to your parents saying that you're running away because of all the ridicule you've faced because of this. And then, you're going to meet me at this address." He thrust a piece of paper into his hand. "Oh, and if you think I'm not serious, let me know if your principal shows up to school tomorrow because I can promise you he won't be there. He'll be in prison...or dead. I'll let you think over which one it is." He let go of his collar. "If I were you, I'd show up or it will be a whole lot worse for you."

Derek swallowed. "Okay."

***

Two weeks later

Hailey was settling in at your house, but you still weren't ready to go back to school.

"Y/N," your mom called from the kitchen. You walked out there. "I talked to one of your counselors. They said that they think online school would be helpful. Is that something you might be interested in?"

You never thought your mom would cave to this, but you were on cloud nine. "Yes, please."

"Okay, but can you try to go back at the beginning of next year?"

"I don't know, Mom."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have asked you that. You'll know when you're ready." She paused. "But, one of the things I'm worried about is you not getting any social interaction."

Will walked out of his room. "What if I do it with her?" he asked. "I could go to school for my AP classes and then take the other ones online. The AP ones are really the only ones that matter."

"Will, it's your senior year," your mom argued.

"I know. I can still do all the fun senior stuff, but I wouldn't have to be at school all day."

"Can I do it, too?" Jay asked. "And, I can still go to school for math and English because we know how I am in those subjects. I can even ask Hailey and text some friends if they want to do online school, too," he suggested.

Tears formed in your eyes. Your brothers were giving up their high school experiences for you.

"Boys, I don't know--"

"Mom, you said the issue was social interaction," Will began, "if we're there and other people are there, she wouldn't be missing out on social interaction."

Your mom sighed. "Are you two sure about this? This isn't a decision you can take lightly." They both said they were sure. "Okay, I'll call the school."

"I'll ask Hailey and make some phone calls," Jay said.

And so, three days later, you, your brothers, Hailey, Kim, Adam, Kevin, Natalie, Stella, and Kelly were all sitting in a coffee shop working on online school.

***

Derek Evans walked a block before he got in Hank Voight's car.

"You have everything?" Hank asked, referring to Derek's backpack filled with clothes, toiletries, and other necessities.

"Yes, sir," Derek answered. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," was all Hank said and then he started driving.

They pulled up to a dirt area on the water with four huge silos. "What are we doing here?" Derek asked.

"Get out of the car."

Derek listened and then Hank followed him around the car. He pulled his gun out of his holster and pressed the cool, black metal against Derek's temple. Derek froze.

"Walk," Hank commanded.

Derek listened and he walked with Hank still holding a gun to his head.

Hank told him to stop and then he drew a line in the dirt with his foot.

"You see this line?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Derek answered while visibly shaking.

"If you ever cross this line again, there will be a bullet in your head. Walk and don't come back." Hank lowered his gun and Derek started walking, not looking back, doing exactly as Hank had told him to do. "Nobody fucks with my city, Evans," Hank said to his retreating back. "Nobody. Not even you."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this rewrite! Thank you for reading! Please remember to reblog/like and comment because I always love when those notifications pop up and I love reading your comments!And, if you like my writing, you can support me at buy me coffee here. It's only a dollar and it's through Paypal and any currency can be used, no subscription required! (I write these fics for free, so I figured I'd try this out!) As always, if you want ti be added to my taglist, just comment that and I’ll add you

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

#jay halstead #will halstead #chicago pd #chicago med #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #will halstead imagine #will halstead fanfic #will halstead fanfiction #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead fanfiction #halstead sister #upstead #upstead imagine #halstead sister imagine #halstead brothers #halstead bros #chicago med imagine #chicago pd imagine #au-gust #au #alternate universe #high school au #writer #writing #my writing

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor... - c.1

Summary: Penny Townsend is going to attend her first criminology class. What she didn’t expect was professor Walter Marshall.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Professor!AU -- can you imagine? Walter Marshall as a professor? 🤤

Masterlist // But professor... masterlist // Next chapter

✎ ✎ ✎

My parents hoped that I would become a doctor. I get it—being friends with a lot of successful parents with equally successful children, must’ve raised their standard for me. They however must’ve known that medicine wasn’t it for me and going to law school isn’t my forte either. It must’ve been hard on them, knowing I wasn’t that intellectually gifted, though they tried their best for me to be.

They did a lot for me. At the ripe age of two to five hours, I was placed at the entrance of a church in Maryland. The pastor and his wife discovered me and brought me to the hospital, only to found out I wasn’t just a couple weeks premature, but also had a lot of heroin in my system.

My birth parents barely gave me a chance the second I was born (probably when I was conceived, but okay) and that is why I am so grateful that my adoptive parents care so much about me.

And that’s why I want to make them proud and studying psychology is my best chance at being the successful daughter they deserve, but man does it feel wrong to be here. I know there is another student out there who deserves to be here, who actually wants to do this, yet here I am taking their place.

Psychology wasn’t the greatest choice already, but having to take criminology was an even bigger mistake. I walk into the lecture hall for the first criminology class. My hands shake because of the nerves, they’re even clammy. I’m not good at making friends, so seeing those cliques that has formed after only two weeks of university, makes me slightly jealous and really alone.

I never really fitted in. My teachers would describe me as a sweet young girl, who is painfully shy.

That, of course, is if they even noticed me at all.

It can be hard to fit in, especially when you feel out of place the second you enter a room, like I have felt since I can remember.

‘Take a seat,’ I hear a deep voice say and I look up, to meet the eyes of the professor. He is unlike all of my other professors. He isn’t in a suit or at least some decent slacks. His denim jeans hugs his thick thighs, as he wears a sweater on top. His curls are disheveled and slightly frizzy and his beard is asymmetrical. A deep frown in between his brows.

‘Me?’ I ask in a soft tone.

He nods. ‘You,’ he confirms.

I walk passed him to choose a seat in the back. I take place and look around me, only to meet the eyes of the professor again. While I wonder what made him choose teaching, since he doesn’t look like someone who was born to teach, I also ponder about the fact he is looking at me again.

Why would he do that?

I grab my laptop and open it, opening a new document. I’ve been going to NYU for two weeks now, yet this is my first criminology class. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing up the glasses on my nose bridge.

‘Okay everyone,’ I hear the professor say, when it’s time for the class to start. ‘There is a sheet going around. Find the spot you’re sitting now and write down your name. If I find out you are messing with me, you have failed your class immediately.’

He is not beating around the bush.

‘I’m detective Walter Marshall. I have worked for the MPD, the Minneapolis Police Department. For this semester there are three subjects we’ll cover. Victimology, crime analysis and the psychology of criminal behavior.’

This is not at all what I want to learn. This is too gore for me. I should’ve stood up to my parents and go to cosmetology school like I originally wanted. It’s better for me anyways.

I’m so stupid.

The paper ends up on my table and I try to find my place on it. I write down ‘Penelope Townsend’ and slide it to the person two tables over. Professor Marshall explains how we have a weekly lecture of two hours and how he is available for questions every Friday, since he’ll be in his office.

‘Does anyone have any questions?’

A guy raises his hand. ‘Why aren’t you working for the MPD anymore, sir?’

Professor Marshall sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. ‘I was put on leave.’

‘Why?’

‘There were some issues,’ he says. ‘Between me and suspects.’

I have no idea what he is implying, but the silence in the classroom is so thick, that I have a clue what types of issues came with said suspects.

‘Really?’ the guy asks.

The professor only raises his eyebrows, which obviously means he isn’t joking. You don’t need to have studied Psychology to figure that out. ‘Any more questions?

‘Do we work in pairs for the assignment?’ a girl asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No, individual works only.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars, I don’t want to work with others. Really, I don’t.

‘Okay, if that’s all, let me start right away. What do these women have in common?’ He presses a button on his presenter and the screen behind him changes. Three pictures of women appear on the screen. It’s their driver’s license photo.

‘They’re women,’ a guy says, causing a few to laugh.

Professor Marshall grabs the paper with names and says: ‘Does anyone have something less obvious to comment than mister Fitzgerald?’ He seems not amused at all by the words of Fitzgerald.

‘Brown hair, blue eyes,’ a girl says.

He nods. ‘And?’

‘They’re pretty,’ another girl says.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he notes. His eyes scan the paper and he looks up. ‘Miss Townsend, do you have something to add?’

Our eyes meet again and I realize that I’m the only miss Townsend in the class. I clear my throat and look at the pictures. Say something smart, Penny. Say something intelligent. Really intelligent.

The obvious things have already been said, so I should stay away from those things.

I swallow hard, press my glasses better on my nose and say: ‘Their left eyelid is slightly droopy.’

I hear some people chuckle a bit, making me feel everything but intelligent.

‘Quiet,’ professor Marshall says and the chuckles die down instantly. ‘Their droopy left eyelid is what made them appealing to the killer.’ He looks up from the other side of class, right at me. His slightly annoyed gaze dissolves for a few moments into a soft one. ‘Miss Townsend made an excellent point here. It took an entire police department to come to that conclusion over the course of two months.’

Oh my goodness, I made an excellent point.

The slides change and I see another picture. This time it’s of a man. It’s a mugshot. I bet he is the killer.

‘Miss Townsend, since you are on a roll,’ the professor continues and I nearly groan. Really? He wants me to answer another questions? ‘What’s do you notice about this man?’

I scan his entire face. He has a crooked nose, blemishes on his forehead and thin lips. He looks like a killer. This would be the type of man I would avoid if I came across him.

‘His left eyelid is also droopy,’ I say.

Is that a tiny smirk on his lips? ‘Correct.’ While professor Marshall continues to explain about how his own appearance is unknowingly influencing his choice of victims, I can’t help but beam a little with pride. ‘Because,’ he continues, ‘if you understand your victims, you can understand your killer.’ The slideshow changes to one word. ‘Welcome to victimology.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Time spend in a lecture hall while professor Marshall teaches flies by. Though he is a bit grumpy and not very welcoming, he is interesting and smart. Much better than my other teachers. I put everything in my backpack, before I get up from my seat. I’m one of the last students to leave the place, mostly because I don’t want to be swarmed by the cliques.

‘Miss Townsend,’ professor Marshall says, causing me to stop misstep as I already passed him.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look up from his notes. ‘You did well in class today.’

Is this man giving me a compliment? He might be the first one in a teacher like position to ever notice me, let alone give me a compliment. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, now looking up from his notes. ‘Don’t hesitate to say something in class next time. You have great insight.’

‘Or just luck,’ I say.

Professor Marshall shakes his head. ‘No, this isn’t about luck, this is good insight. So, can you promise me to raise your hand next class?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘What I said: this was luck and it probably won’t happen again. I have to go. I reserved a spot at the library. If that is all, sir?’

He doesn’t say anything, simply looks at me. It takes a second, maybe two before he nods. ‘If you have questions,’ he says, ‘you know how to contact me.’

I nod, before I walk out of the hall. I see students gathering in front of the door and I quickly slip through them and make my way to the library. I’ve been going to classes for around two weeks now and I’m still up to date as we speak. I decide to at least make a beginning with the assignments of my criminology class, because the sooner I start, the less work and stress I’ll experience later on, because I most definitely will stress about it.

It’s been quite awhile since I opened a book for school for assignments or preparing for exams. After high school, I decided to take a gap year, which ended in two. I’ve traveled with all sorts of groups to different countries, worked at an international cafe in Japan for awhile. It did help me with my social skills. I was happy, social and totally in my element. Those wonderful skills were all forgotten the second I stepped foot back in the USA again.

It was my parents that pushed for going back to college and once they figured out that medicine or law wasn’t up my alley, they agreed psychology, though it wasn’t my thing either.

It’s okay, sure, but… Gosh, I miss the freedom I had during the gap years. I’m not stupid, but is the academical life for me? I have looked at cosmetology school and boy do I wish I was there at the moment.

And not here.

✎ ✎ ✎

I don’t know how long I have been at the library, but my eyes are tired by the time I close my laptop. Besides working on my assignment, I also texted my parents to tell them everything is going fine and checked out multiple cosmetology schools here in the area.

Originally I’m from Maryland, meaning it’s only a three hour drive to see my parents and for them to check in on me. I considered lying about my major, about attending NYU and just go to cosmetology school, but mom and dad are paying my tuition, which is another loophole in my plan.

I put the laptop in my backpack and walk out of the library. Every second my mind wasn’t occupied with university related things, it went straight back to my first criminology class, more specifically my professor. His words. It’s one thing he said those things to me, but another that he looked so handsome while saying it.

‘There she is,’ I hear from behind me as I walk through the hallways to the exit. I turn around to discover it’s Fitzgerald. I forgot his first name, which is weird since we share a lot of the same classes together. He isn’t easy to miss. Pleasant on the eyes, that’s for sure, but he is loud, thinks he is hilarious and that makes him kinda annoying. ‘Miss Townsend,’ he says in a mocking tone.

Okay, change kinda annoying to absolutely insufferable.

‘Hm?’

Fitzgerald walks next to me and he comes a lot closer than I prefer. ‘You’re already the teacher’s pet,’ he continues. ‘Bet the man has a thing for Asian chicks.’

I have no idea how to respond to that implication. My instinct says to get out of here, but the exit is right ahead of me and from the looks of it, Fitzgerald is going there as well. So there is no escape.

‘But let’s say it’s beginners luck,’ he says, ‘because it was actually the first time I heard you speak.’

‘You mind leaving me alone?’ I ask.

‘Why is that, sugar boo?’

Okay, now I’m gonna vomit. Goosebumps run over my spine and the hairs in my neck are standing straight up. I bet this guy’s dad is rich, therefore the only reason he is here. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘You don’t want me here?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, everyone wants me here.’

Not me.

‘Fitzgerald, are you deaf?’

It’s professor Marshall.

His eyes enlarge when he realizes that too. ‘No, sir,’ he quickly says.

‘She said she doesn’t want you here.’ He stands in front of the two of us, looking everything but amused. ‘You know, back when I was working, I encountered a lot of guys like you. Did you know they usually peak in high school, do okay in college, but the second they end up locked up in jail—and I promise you, they most often will—they aren’t so tough anymore. They usually end up as someone’s bitch.’

To hear this entire monologue and the word bitch from a professor, was not at all what I was expecting. Fitzgerald’s face is drained from all its color. While Fitzgerald looks like he shat himself, I am utterly amazed. I wish I was this intimidating, I think to myself.

Fitzgerald clears his throat, eyes darting around the hallway, almost as if he is trying to find the closest exit. He shoots out of this place very quickly, meaning I’m left with only our professor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I say.

Professor Marshall simply nods. ‘You know, if you lowered your shoulders, you’d appear more confident.’

Why do I feel so offended? ‘Oh…’

‘It’s advice, miss Townsend, not criticism.’

‘Oh,’ I say again, this time in a whisper like tone. He could’ve brought it up a bit nicer though. No need to hurt my feelings like that.

Professor Marshall and I both walk towards the exit and I notice it’s raining. Great, guess who didn’t bring her umbrella and also isn’t wearing a jacket with a hood?

Absolutely fantastic.

‘Here,’ the professor says, holding out his umbrella for me.

Is this truly happening? ‘Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.’

‘I insist.’

With some hesitation I grab the umbrella from him and smile. ‘Thank you, professor.’

He politely nods and walks off, leaving me with the umbrella and a little bit confused. Though he looks so handsome and slightly intimidating, he still is nice to me. The only teacher ever. Maybe Fitzgerald is right and—

No, no, no, don’t think like that. It’s not that every man who is nice to me all of the sudden has this fetish. That can’t be it, right?

Maybe, despite my aversion, I am actually good at the whole criminology thing and isn’t it a one time thing. Luck. Maybe I do have something I am good at.

✎ ✎ ✎

That Friday I am still on campus after I spend my entire afternoon in the library. Since I have a question about the criminology assignment, I decide walk to the office of professor Marshall. To kill two birds with one stone, I brought his umbrella with me so I can give it back. I knock on the door and hear a low: ‘Come in.’

I open the door and am met with the professor, who is sitting behind is desk. ‘Sir, I have a question about the assignment.’

He leans back in his chair and gestures me to come in. I close the door behind me and expect to sit, until I notice there isn’t a chair anywhere for me to sit on. How unwelcome of him, I think to myself. Does that mean I have to remain standing?

‘What’s your question, miss Townsend?’

‘I didn’t know which format I had to use for the entire assignment. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was here in the building and I thought that I could…’ Nice way of getting off track, Penny. As they said in high school musical: ‘Get’cha your head in the game’ and this is  not the game. ‘Never mind. Which format should I use?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he says.

That’s it? That’s the answer he is gonna give me?

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘Other questions, miss Townsend?’

Yes. I let out a deep sigh. ‘The assignment is just harder than I thought,’ I admit. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Professor Marshall stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Sit, I’ll try to explain it.’

‘In your chair?’

He simply nods and I walk around the desk, to take a seat, while he leans against the windowsill. Oh, the leather is warm… What a body heat does this man produce. ‘Okay, the point of the assignment is to use some of the example files of—staged—murders. Based on the file you choose, you choose a format. You write out the victimology, try to narrate who the killer is, writing down all your findings and there are things I’m gonna talk about in next classes.’

I nod. ‘That makes it easier, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re already working on the assignment?’ he asks. Why does he sound genuinely surprised?

I nod again. ‘I am. I find it easier to work a bit every day, than to cram it all in one day.’ I realize how that sounds. ‘That sounds dorky.’

‘It doesn’t really. It’s a whole lot better than what I did back in the days,’ he says. ‘What did you think of the class?’

Is he asking for my opinion? ‘Your class was very interesting. Slightly morbid though, but fascinating.’

‘Morbid?’ the professor asks. ‘There was nothing morbid about my class.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘It was kinda scary. With the blood patterns and all. The peek into the murderer’s mind?’ I shiver. ‘Don’t know, felt too personal and too much into the killer’s brain.’

‘The class you’re taking is criminology,’ he says, ‘you should’ve known.’

I shrug, not knowing what to say to him. He is right…

‘Miss Townsend—’

‘Penny,’ I say. ‘It’s Penny. Penelope officially, but people barely call me that.’ People barely call out for me ever, but that’s a different topic. Total different topic.

‘Penny,’ he says, ‘could’ve known.’

I don’t know what he is implying, but I realize I am totally overstaying. ‘I’m sorry, I should go. Thanks for helping me out. Oh, I brought you back your umbrella. I don’t need it anyways.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I should go. It’s getting kinda dark already.’

‘Let me guess, you don’t do well in the dark.’

I smile almost out of guilt. ‘That obvious?’

For a brief moment I spot a smirk on his face. ‘I’m a detective, I spot these things.’

Okay, not gonna lie, but that’s pretty funny. ‘See you next class, professor,’ I say, standing up from his chair and I walk towards the door.

‘See you next class, Penny.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #professor!walter marshall #but professor

[wilbur-rabbit]

We are Soulmates - Sam, Dean and Cas' POV

Criminal Minds / Supernatural Crossover

Summary: When you get arrested by the FBI Sam, Dean and Cas do everything they can to get you back.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Aaron isn't in this chapter)

Word Count: 2294

Chapter 1

Warnings: cursing

A/N: This is a short story based on 'We are Soulmates' that goes through what happened in the first chapter from Sam, Dean and Cas' point of view. I recommend reading chapter one first. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Sam and Dean had stayed behind when Y/N had decided to follow Krissy and her friends to kill the vampire. Neither of them was particularly fond of the idea of you going off on your own but you insisted that you had it. Even after all these years they still felt protective over you.

Several hours later, Sam and Dean had gotten nowhere with the foster dad. They felt in their guts that something was off about him, but they didn’t know what. Both ready to call it a night, Dean got out his cell phone prepared to call Y/N to see how things were going with Krissy, when suddenly Krissy and her friends’, Josephine and Aiden, barge through the front door. The three of them talking at once, making it impossible to decipher what they were saying.

“Okay!” Dean yelled out. “One at a time, Krissy what is going on?”

Krissy took two heavy breaths before launching into the events that occurred after they found the vampire. How Y/N had found them in the barn right after Krissy had killed the vamp that had murdered her father, to them hearing several cars pulling up and Y/N telling them to go and get the Winchester’s. When Sam and Dean heard that Krissy had seen agents with FBI vests on when they had run out of the barn, dread settled into their chests.

Right after Krissy finished her story and Sam and Dean had gotten all that they could out of them, they left heading back to their motel room to try and come up with a plan.

The impala was quiet, both brothers thinking of ways to fix the mess they have found themselves in. Dean was the first to break the silence.

“How did this even happen?” he asked his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s our job to protect her. We shouldn’t have let her go off on her own.”

Sam glanced over at his brother. As soon as they had heard what happened to Y/N, he knew Dean would blame himself. It didn’t matter how many times you had gone off on your own on a hunt and been fine. They couldn’t have known this one would be different.

“She’s going to be okay,” Sam reassured. “She’s been in worse situations before. She can handle this.”

Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, “She’s never been arrested by the fucking FBI! They found her standing over a decapitated corpse. They aren’t going to just let her go.”

They had just pulled into the parking lot of their motel and Sam waited until they parked before he responded, wanting to give Dean a moment to calm down.

“I understand that she hasn’t dealt with this before,” Sam said in the reassuring voice he always used with people when he wanted them to stay calm. Dean looked over and glared at him picking up on his tone, which caused Sam to sigh. “Okay, look, I know this is a fucked-up situation Dean, but we will get her out of it,” Sam said. “We need to call Cas and let him know what he is going on. We could use his help. Then I think we should head back to the bunker.”

“You want to leave her here?” Dean said incredulously.

Sam rolled his eyes, “I have an idea that might work, but we are going to need Cas and ingredients that we have in the bunker to do it.”

Dean sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. I’ll call Cas. You grab our stuff so we can check out and leave.”

As Sam was packing up the car Dean stood a few paces away waiting for Cas to pick up the phone. They hadn’t talked in a while and Dean felt bad that he was only contacting him because something was wrong. Communication was something he need to work on.

“Hello, Dean,” came Cas’ deep voice through the phone.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean replied. “How have you been?” Dean didn’t want to automatically start off with the bad news, plus he genuinely wanted to know how Cas was doing.

“I’ve been good. I just finished a hunt in Nebraska,” Cas said. “Vengeful spirit. I’m heading back to the bunker now. How are you, Dean?”

Dean wanted to ask how the hunt had gone and why Cas didn’t just come along with them if he planned on hunting, but he stopped himself. Their current predicament was more important.

“I’ve been better,” Dean said with a sigh. “Actually, that is why I called. Y/N was arrested by the FBI.” His hand that wasn’t holding the phone rested on his hip as he looked to the ground. “Sam has an idea on how to get her out, but he says we need to go back to the bunker and that we will need your help.”

Cas is silent for a moment surprised at the turn of events. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help,” he said.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean replied happy to have Cas’ help, even though he had known Cas would be on board as soon as he knew Y/N was in trouble. “We are currently in Bloomington, Indiana, but we are getting ready to head that way.”

“Okay, good. I will see you at the bunker,” Cas said.

“Sounds good. We will call if we get an update,” Dean responded. “Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

As they started their drive back to the bunker Sam explained his plan.

“Archangel grace can be used to jump dimensions, right?” Sam asked even though he and Dean both knew that was true. Dean nodded anyway. “So, what I was thinking is that we, in theory, should be able to use Cas’ grace to open up a portal to where Y/N is. We can go through, grab Y/N and bring her back.”

“Do you even know if that will work?” Dean questioned, glancing at Sam.

“Well,” Sam started. “No, not exactly.”

“So, we have a half-assed plan that we don’t even know is going to work and is taking us farther away from where Y/N is currently locked up?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“I don’t see you coming up with anything,” Sam said, his voice rising.

“Yeah, cause you said you had a plan–,” Dean is interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Hello?” he barked not even looking at the caller ID.

“Dean,” you breathed on the other line and Dean was so relieved to hear your voice. “Where the hell are you?” he knew he shouldn’t let the panic into his voice so you would stay calm, but he couldn’t help it.

“Is that Y/N?” Sam asked. Dean nodded before taking the phone from his ear and putting it on speaker.

“I’m at the police precinct,” you said relieving both men. They hadn’t voiced it, but they had both been afraid they would move you to somewhere with higher security, especially if the feds found out that you were involved with them. They hoped for your sake it didn’t come to that.

“We know what happened and we are so sorry. We should have gone with you. We are going to find a way to get you out. We aren’t sure how, but we will. Oh, and Sam is here too.” Dean said having to get some of the guilt off his chest. Obviously, he knew that Sam had a plan but given the fact that they had no idea if it would even work, he didn’t want to give you false hope. Plus, if their call were being monitored it would be better if the feds didn’t hear what they were planning. Not that they would necessarily believe it.

“Hey Y/N/N. How are you holding up?” Sam asked.

“Hey Sammy. I’ve been better.” You chuckled, but there was no humor to your voice. “It’s bad. I don’t know if I’m going to get out of this one.”

Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. They could both hear the fear in your voice, and they hated that they couldn’t do anything but reassure you that it would be okay.

“Hey, none of that. We’ve been in situations worse than this. We will find something. You just need to hang in there. Don’t admit to anything,” Sam said. Dean glanced over and saw the determination on his face. The look made him feel more confident that they would be able to get you home.

“Okay. Yeah, I won’t.” you responded, and they could hear the hope that Sam words had given you.

“I got a hold of Cas earlier,” Dean said. “He is heading this way too.”

“Good. I’m glad he will be back with us,” You said.

“It’s going to be okay. We will figure something out.” Dean repeated.

“I know. I trust you guys. It’s just…” You paused. Sam and Dean waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, Dean reassured you again.

“We know. We’ve been there.” Dean said.

You were still quiet and the brothers glanced at each other, wondering what was happening on the other side of the call.

“Should I ask for a lawyer?” you questioned suddenly.

Dean turned to Sam, “Well, should she Sammy?”

Sam gave his brother a glare at the nickname, making Dean roll his eyes. Apparently, it was only okay if you called him that.

“It would probably be better if you did. We have had them in the past. That way they can’t try and pull a fake confession out of you,” Sam advised.

“Maybe I should just tell the truth,” You replied. Both of the brothers’ eyes widened, surprised that you would want to tell the FBI about the supernatural.

“That is always a tight rope to walk,” Dean cautioned.

“Yeah, you should really think about that before you do,” Sam added.

“You might be right,” you said, but you sounded slightly dazed and distracted. “I have to go. They are wanting me to get off the phone.”

“Okay. Just be careful. We’ll figure this out.” Dean said.

“I know you will. I–I love you guys.”

Hearing you say those words softened the two men that thought of you as a sister. That wasn’t a word the three of you, or even four counting Cas, used that often and at hearing you say it in a stressful time like this, like you weren’t sure when you would see them again, made the brothers realize that they need to say it more.

“We love you too, Y/N.” Sam said softly.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean confirmed.

With a quiet goodbye you hung up the phone.

Once Sam and Dean got back to the bunker, they saw Cas’ ’78 Lincoln Continental parked in the garage. Dean was relieved to see it no matter how much he hated the car. The boys grabbed their duffels and headed into the bunker. Cas was sitting in the library, several books laid out on the table as he searched through them.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, setting his bag down on the side of table not covered in books. Cas looked up at the two men.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.” Cas replied. “I’ve been searching, trying to find something that can help us, but I have not been particularly successful.”

Dean pulled out a chair that was across from Cas. “Well, that’s okay,” he said sitting down in the chair. “Sam has a plan.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

Sam rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair next to Dean’s. “My theory is that if we can use archangel grace to jump between dimensions, we can use angel grace to teleport to other places here on Earth.” Sam told Cas.

Cas squinted his eyes and tilled his head. “In theory that could work.” He said, causing Dean to grunt. “I have never tried it, though. Not long ago I wouldn’t have needed a teleporting spell to go anywhere in the world.”

Dean sighed; his head tilted back so he was facing the ceiling. “Okay,” he said, looking to Sam and Cas. “If we do this and it does work, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not.” Cas said. “Y/N is with the FBI, who you have been on the wanted by for years and still would be if they didn’t think you were dead. I’m going”

Dean sighed, knowing he was right as much as he hated it. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

The three of them went to work finding the ingredients to the original spell. A pile of bones, dried herbs, cuts of wood fungus, and a pinch of dark powder, were all found in the storage room of the bunker. They added in a lock of Y/N’s hair that Dean grabbed from your hairbrush, so they could direct the spell toward your location.

After having everything assembled it was time for the final ingredient. Cas took the knife that Dean held out to him. He brought the knife across is neck letting some of his grace flow out into the small glass bottle that Dean held up to him. After the glass was filled, Cas brought his hand to his throat, healing the wound with a glow of light from his palm.

Dean took the bottle and pored it over the bowl that held the other ingredients. As he poured the grace into the bowl Sam chanted in Enochian.

“Mah ray, fah doh, em lah. Kah day, em lah. Kah day, em lah!”

There was a flash of light, before the portal formed in the room. A crack glowing a dark gold. Cas looked to Sam and Dean for a moment before he walked through the portal, disappearing from the brothers’ view. Now all they could do is wait.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #criminal minds fanfic #supernatural fanfic #castiel

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 12

They were going to the zoo. Richard had decided that after two months of her living in the Manor it was time to have some family bonding time. It didn’t matter that most of her time in the last months was used to get to know her new extended family or get reacquainted with her old one. 

He was adamant that she needed the full Gothamite experience, so here they were on a Friday afternoon on a crowded metro, listening as the oldest one tried and explained how Metro’s worked to her. He was so happy, gesticulating and smiling, that she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she indeed knew how the metro worked, having lived in Paris for almost two full years.

After Damian, Richard was her favorite sibling, mostly because she had always seen him as a role model, as part of her training had been inspired by him and his trapeze maneuvers, but she did enjoy the warmth that she tended to feel when he was around. He was patient and had no problem explaining pop culture references to her. Not that she didn't enjoy spending time with her other siblings, it was just that Richard went out of his way to make her feel accepted.

Tim was a very busy person, and their interactions were reserved to 3 a.m. coffee hunts. He wasn’t bad, just closed off, and a little wary of her after his first experience with Damian. Not that she could blame him. But she was a bit closer to his girlfriend, Stephanie Brown, who would come to have dinner at the Manor every week. 

And there was Jason. She refused to address him as her brother, that would just be plain weird. After the initial shock of finding each other again had worn out, it had taken a few weeks for them to finally address the elephant in the room. She could tell that he had struggled with the news that she was Bruce’s biological daughter.

“Dick, maybe speed the lecture a bit so we can still get to the zoo before it closes.” Jason was leaning casually against a wall, finding this whole situation funny. He was wearing jeans and his red leather jacket, nothing special, but if she was honest he looked rather handsome. 

“It’s fine Jaybird, I was just wrapping it up!” He says with a smile, just in time for them to catch the next wagon. Because they spent at least 25 minutes listening to Richard’s lesson, the metro had emptied a bit so they were able to find seats. It was just the three of them, the others would meet them there, after being picked up by Alfred, Damian after school, and Timothy after a meeting. 

“So… I know Bruce said not to ask, but I’ve been dying to know…” Richard starts unsure, afraid to cross a line. They were lucky to score seats in the same section, she was seated with Jason by her side, with Richard in front of him facing them both. “But how exactly did you two meet, I mean it was obviously at… Tibet-'' He caught himself before he could out them as members of the League, you never knew who could be listening in their conversation, so better safe than sorry. “- but why do you know Jason, but Damian didn’t?” 

With a glance to the side, she was more than happy to allow Jason to explain that part. In the two months she lived at the Manor she saw how much they wanted to ask about their relationship, but kept their distance. Aside from Damian, they didn’t feel the need to inform the family about their past. 

“Well, Pixie Pop here was the one to train me for the duration of my time in the Temple. Kicked my ass more times than I can count.” He says with a smirk, while casually butting an arm on the back of her seat. “She taught me most of what I know”

“Most of it?” She was indignant, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions.

“To be fair B didn’t totally suck as a parent.” She knew that he and Father didn’t have the best relationship after he came back from his time at the League, but according to Damian, it used to be way worse, not that she would know. Richard seems content with their explanation and didn't demand more information, even if he desperately wanted to. He respects their boundaries, and that only makes her like him more.

When they got to the zoo, Damian and Timothy were already there, but surprisingly Stephanie had tagged along, so now she wasn’t the only female in the group anymore, not that she cared, but she liked her brother’s girlfriend so the surprise was appreciated. 

She had never been to the zoo before, just to see the attractions. The times she went to fight an Akuma did not count. It was a bit sad seeing all these animals stuck in a cage, and she could tell her brother felt the same. Damian always had a soft spot for animals, and would not tolerate if they were being mistreated. Not surprisingly, the Waynes made annual donations to the zoo to ensure that all the animals were well taken care of. When she first heard about that she was glad that Father cared about Damian’s interests enough to pay to support every zoo and animal shelter in the city. It helped ease her guilt for abandoning him for two years knowing that now she was not the only one who cared for him.

They spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying the animals. And Dick was glad he chose to go to the zoo as a family bonding experience. When Damian first came into the family he had taken him there, after discovering that his younger brother absolutely adored animals and he was happy to see that Marianne liked it as well.  

Efficient as always, Alfred was already there waiting for them the minute they crossed the exit of the building. As she came to know, the men seemed to have a six sense when it came to all of them. Just by his aura, she could tell he wasn’t someone you wanted to cross, but she could see how much he loved each one of his grandchildren (because she could never kid herself to think of him any less than a Grandfather).

“I assume that today's activities were enjoyable.” The butler asks as he opens the back door of the limo for them. Richard enters first thanking the men.

“It was acceptable” Damian voices, as he too enters the vehicle.  

It was a bit of a ride, seeing that the Manor was almost outside of Gotham, but she didn’t mind. Seated between Richard and Damian she spent most of the journey chatting with everyone. But by the time they arrived at the house everyone was a bit tired, so dinner was a relatively small affair. But not uneventful, because as revenge for Bruce bailing on family day, the boys started sharing with her all the shenanigans of her father’s public persona, Brucie Wayne. It was amusing to see this new side to her father, always so reserved and serious. 

“If you are all finished sharing Master Bruce's embarrassing moments, I believe it is time for patrol.”  Alfred as always came to defuse the situation before it could implode. 

Because she spent most of the last two years fighting almost every single day, she decided that she needed some rest from her hero lifestyle. Even after her father asked if she would like to accompany them on patrols, she decided to turn it down for now. So while her family directed themselves to the cave, she made her way into her suite. 

It was a beautiful room. Although the color scheme wasn’t something she would have picked herself, it fit with the furniture rather nicely, and her artist side appreciated that. The room itself was simple, but the red colors and the dark wood made the room seem cozier than it was. With a double bed with a canopy, two bedside tables, a vanity with a mirror, and a wardrobe, it had everything she needed. Her Father had encouraged her to decorate her room the way she wanted, and she had been tempted to do so, but ultimately decided to wait until she settled into her role as a family member before she went and added more change to the mix. What she had been very close to doing was adding a desk so she could draw and design, but after she discovered that there was a big one in the library just a few doors from her room, she dismissed the idea.  

Quickly she showered and changed into something more comfortable than her street attire, before exiting the room and making her way into the library. It wasn’t as big as the one downstairs, but it had a big balcony that overlooked the gardens, so she liked to just sit in a shadow and sketch away. Damian had been kind enough to spare one of his unused sketchbooks and some pencils, knowing that she liked to draw just as much as he did. She leaned forward into the railing resting her arms and head, but still looking upwards.

The sun had already set, and she was glad that they were far enough away from the city that she could see some stars in the sky. Having lived in Paris, she had really missed all the stars she could see at night from her home on the League. One of her studies had been about the Astros, so she spent a lot of time as a kid contemplating the skies. 

“It’s going to rain soon” A voice comes from behind her. Without having to turn around she knew who it was. A smile appears on her face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for patrol?” She asks, straightening her body, but still not turning around. She could feel the person getting closer to her until she felt a presence at her side. 

“That’s the whole point. It's gonna rain.” He carries a hint of humor in his tone “And besides I prefer to keep you company, Pretty Girl. Besides, I believe Red Hood deserves one night off. The guy has been working hard.” He jokes.

With a smile she finally faces him. He had showered and changed, and without his red jacket, he looked so relaxed. It reminded her of their time in the League. Like that he looked so much like the angry boy she helped train. So young and while broken, so full of life and fight in him. He smirks at her but turns his face upwards to look at the night. 

“You always did love the stars.” He commented, not looking at her. “It’s sad that here you can't see them as much.” 

“It’s not that bad. In Paris, you couldn't see any. It was sad, but to be fair the whole city more than compensated for that. It’s beautiful there.” She recalled all the times she went on a midnight stroll around the city, just enjoying the architecture. “I could spend eternity drawing all the details in the buildings.” 

“Do you miss it?” He asks, looking at her. His tone is neutral, but by his body language, she can tell he’s anxious for her answer. She had always been good at reading him, and she was glad that their time apart had not changed that. 

“In a way…” 

She sighs.

“I liked the city, but I spent most of my time there fighting and training. Not much different from before. It was like everything changed but was still the same. To be completely honest… I miss our time at the League the most.” She confesses but hurriedly continues. “Don’t get me wrong, it was hard! But still… at the same time…”

“I get it.” He interrupts her. He has a small side smile, and the dimples on his face make her want to freeze this moment and draw him so she could eternalize him. Instead, she gets closer to him, seeking comfort in his presence at her side. He embraces her. Securing her in his arms, her body pressed against his, her head buried in his chest.

It was funny to think that the most capable woman to take care of herself he knew, chose to be vulnerable around him. It made him feel loved.

“I miss it too.” He whispered in her ear. She raises her head, just enough that she can see his face without removing herself from his arms. Staying like this reminds her of all the nights he used to sneak into her chambers. And they would talk and hold each other for hours. It felt like it was just yesterday the first time he got the better of her.

“Focus!” She yelled while landing a kick at his unprotected left side. “You are unbalanced- in three moves I could have you on the ground again” She punched him to his right, but he was able to block her and tried to deliver a punch of his own. His knuckles were bloodied, and he knew that in the morning his ribs would hurt. But at this moment he was high on adrenaline. She dodged. 

They were training for what felt like hours. But both were too stubborn to ask for the fight to end. 

But just as promised, in three more moves he was on the ground. He tried to get back on his feet to continue with the fight but was stopped by a foot on his torso.

“That’s enough.” She helps him to get on his feet. “You were great! You could have overpowered me so many times! I left you so many openings!” She laughs. This was routine for them. After a fight, Marianne was usually so pumped with adrenaline that she spoke at a mile per hour. “We really need to work on your tactics this week. Oh! You also need to improve your stance, you’ve been favoring your right side too much. I know your ribs hurt but you still need to protect your body as a whole.” She comments only stopping to take a large sip of water. “Well, I am spent.”

“You’re spent? I’m the one that has been eating dirt for the whole hour!” He complains indignantly. She tossed a water bottle in his direction, which he grabs and happily finishes in a single gulp.

“Just another reason you need to study more!” She grins. And turns to exit the room, and while walking to the door turns to him again. 

“See you in a bit” She winks. 

When they meet again they are in her room. She’s seated on the bed sketching some view, while Jason sits on the floor sharpening his knife. They chat casually for some time, but ultimately end speaking about their training session earlier. 

“That move would have totally worked!” He exclaims, knife long forgotten he now kneels facing her bed. 

“There’s where you are wrong, you need strength on your fist on both sides to push my torso, otherwise I would easily be able to doge only one. You need two punches at different sides in succession for you to distract your opponent!” She explains in a hurry. Her thoughts jumped around her head. 

“No way! If it’s strong enough, only one is needed!” He argues.

Worked up she threw her notebook to the side, forgotten. In a second she was up, signaling for him to do the same.

“There is no way. Stand there, pretend to be in stance.” She directs, and without a second thought, he complies. “Okay, so I come for your right side first, you are stronger there.” 

Her movements are slowed, as she demonstrates the move. “That’s going to distract you, and keep you focused on your stronger side, leaving your weaker one unprotected.” She shows him where he left an opening for her. “So all I need to do now is strike again, focusing more strength now. Either a punch or a kick would do the trick.” As she goes to demonstrate her point, he grabs the incoming slow punch and pulls her into his body. 

Unprepared she loses her balance, falling into his chest. In a second he secures her with his other arm, keeping her in his embrace. She feels her face burning with embarrassment. He caught her by surprise, and she felt ashamed.

“Hey that wasn't fai-” But he silences her, bringing his face closer to hers and giving her a heated kiss. It lasts for some time, but when they finally separate themselves he has a grin on his face.

“Just to be clear, I knew the move wouldn’t have worked. You just look cute when you're angry.” 

And before she can protest he shuts her up with another kiss.

So this is by far the biggest chapter! Hope ya’ll like it! We finally get the story behind Jason and Marianne. Let me know what you think!

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#batman #bio dad bruce wayne #child assassin #damian wayne #mari al ghul #marianne al ghul #maribat #miraculous ladybug #older sibling #the forgotten one #assassin marinette #damian al ghul #league of assassins #mari wayne #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous au #mlb x dc #ra's al ghul #talia al ghul #bio-dad #jasonette

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

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Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

Songs mentioned in this chapter (in this order): Now or Never & Wake Up by JaTP | Don't Stop Me Now by Queen | Rude by MAGIC! | Don’t Laugh At Me by Mark Wills | Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing by Tori Kelly | Still Learning by Halsey | Ayo Technology by 50 Cent | My version of My Name Is Luke by Trevor Wilson | Let’s Forget About It by Lisa Loeb | Let's Just Get Naked Lyrics by Joan Osborne | Hey by Pixies

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

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Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected. 

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.) 

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you. 

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie. 

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been. 

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly. 

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before. 

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible. 

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there. 

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.” 

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence. 

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky  And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open. 

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?). 

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again. 

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be. 

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?) 

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room. 

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.” 

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.) 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!” 

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.” 

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit. 

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!” 

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej​​ @ifilwtmfc​

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #reggie peters x reader #alex mercer x reader #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #my writing #viascribbles

[kovjiro]

Out of My League - an Aran Ojiro x chubby female reader SMAU - College!AU

Synopsis: Commitment can be scary, especially when the only taste of actual commitment has come through your three best friends. An absentee father and cruel classmates can do that to you - no foundational trust in men, only sustained by male counterparts continually making fun of you for your size and weight. You’re ready for change, though, and maybe change will come; as you set out for university in a new city miles away from your horrid adolescence, change is inevitable. A chance at growth, at love, and new adventures await you in this new part of your life but, really, you’d never think to find this all with the upperclassmen you’d deemed out of your league.

Warnings(for this chapter): written chapter, self-deprecating thoughts, underage alcohol consumption, explicit depictions of being drunk, very much angst, reader is big sad (Refer to masterlist for complete list of warnings for this SMAU

Masterlist | Prev. | Chapter Four: friend | Next

“It’s Kiyoko and Yachi, right?” you call out over the heavy base and electronic beats blasting throughout the room.

Earlier that evening you made your way to Aran’s dorm, along with Suna, Osamu, and Atsumu. Upon arriving Aran announced to all of you that a few friends would be coming along, two members of his frat and their first-year friend. Aran had seen the worry on your face, however, and didn’t hesitate to come up to you and reassure you of your worries. “They’ll love you, hun, I promise.”

His words eased your nerves a bit but meeting new people isn’t always a fun experience - there is no telling when someone will judge you because of what they see. They had been nice enough at first meet so now, here at the party a couple of shots in and one drink down, you have the confidence to let loose.

“That’s us,” the tall one with black hair says, who you deduce is Kiyoko. She’s insanely attractive in a mature and sophisticated sense, her aura demanding respect yet offering a sense of comfort as well. Beside her stands a small blonde girl, who you’ve been informed is the first-year friend and her underclassmen from high school. Yachi’s demeanor is completely different from that of Kiyoko, looking almost out of place with her uncapped drink in her hand. Regardless, there is no ignoring how breathtaking they both are in their own right.

“Y/n, yeah?” Kiyoko counters before taking a sip of her drink. “Aran has told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Don’t get your hopes up, for the love of all things sacred and holy, don’t break your own heart. “All good things I hope.” Kiyoko fervently nods as if to relieve you of any fear, saying, “Aran always speaks highly of his friends back home.”

Oh yeah, friend. It’s not like every time he’s come to your aid, every time he’s offered words of praise or encouragement, every time he’s held you close to his chest with your heart beats seemingly syncing together ever meant anything more to him - you’re just his friend, just like the many other friends he apparently talks so highly of. You’ve known this for years so why does it hurt so much?

Just as you’re about to respond, someone comes bounding up to the three of you. “They’re doing jaegerbombs over at the bar, you girls coming?” Speak of the devil… “C’mon, y/n, i know you can down those like a champ,” Aran pushes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere of the cramped party filled to the brim with sweaty bodies bouncing and yelling, maybe it's the alcohol beginning to get to your head, or maybe it’s both and then some, but Aran’s presence is overwhelming and not in the good way. Where you’d usually feel over the moon to be near him you now find yourself feeling… annoyed? Upset? Absolutely devastated? In reality, though, you brought this on yourself because who could ever like you, the fat friend? Definitely not someone like Aran.

“Yup, that’s right, friend,” you say, mustering as convincing a laugh as you can. Not convincing enough because Aran cautiously chuckles all while squinting questioningly at you. “Yeah… friend.”

An awkward beat passes amongst the four of you but Kiyoko is quick to act, grasping your hand in one of hers and grabbing Yachi with the other. “Let’s get this party rolling, shall we?” she exclaims as she pulls you both to the make-shift bar the frat boys put together. As soon as she’s pulled you out of hearing range, Kiyoko leans closer to ask, “You good?” Her eyes convey just how much she’s gathered - you’re hurting.

What a horrible situation to be in - finding out your long-term crush only thinks of you as a friend in the midst of a night out. How will you get over this hurt, this heartbreak? Probably never. There is no cure for a broken heart.

But wait. There is. And you’re walking towards it right now.

“I will be,” you conclude.

In no time you’re standing in between Kiyoko and Yachi at the bar and what happens after is too much of a blur to make out. The first shot the three of you take together, the mixture of liquor and redbull hitting you in an instant. Your mind is running a mile a minute but it seems to be working - you’re numb. And so you have another, whatever it takes to forget why you were so upset a few moments ago. Two quickly becomes three, the same way three eventually becomes four then five then six.

In the haze that comes with being drunk you live the next moments oblivious to your surroundings. You miss when the twins and Suna join you guys right after Aran, you miss when Aran’s frat brother Sugawara appears and takes a shot with all of you, you miss - or perhaps ignore - when Osamu tells you to chill on the drinking. “You trying to die or something?” is what he says verbatim but his words don’t register in your imbibed brain.

What you don’t miss is Aran talking to a girl at the end of the bar and suddenly everything hits you tenfold - the hurt, the ache, the alcohol. Maybe if you weren’t so inebriated you would have noticed that he was only trying to help her out - apparently you aren’t the only person drunk off their ass at this party, who would have thought? All your mind can comprehend is that Aran is talking to someone other than you, a harsh reminder that you are - and probably always will be - the ‘friend.’

He comes to you then, speaking words you understand yet cannot comprehend, head spinning and vision blurring - maybe you should have listened to Osamu. He leaves you there at the bar and it crushes your heart all over again - didn’t he promise to be there for you? The alcohol has complete control of your body as you take a step in his direction but it’s as if the ground has moved out from underneath you. Two people are quick to your sides though and manage to keep you from hitting the ground. Who is that?

“Samu? Suna?” you manage to gurgle out, tongue feeling heavy and lips completely senseless. “No, honey, it’s Kiyoko and Suga. I think you’ve had enough for tonight, think it’s time to head home. Can you tell me where your dorm is?”

You know what she’s saying but your thoughts are jumbled, your dorm be damned. Where’s Aran? “I-I need to go- go see him,” you blurt out as you attempt to get out of their hold. You lose your balance as you take a step forward but they’re there to keep you from collapsing. They begin to drag you along to who-knows-where and you have no choice but to let yourself be carried, mumbling about how you need to see him and it hurts. It has to be the alcohol that’s making you spew nonsense, more so when you start crying because how could he only think of you as a friend, just a friend? Had it all meant nothing to him? Maybe you just misread everything, but you had been sure there was something there.

Or you’re the one in the wrong this time around, obviously, to even begin thinking Aran would be different. Every person you meet is unable to get past what’s on the exterior so why would this be any different? The idea of Aran reciprocating such feelings is an act of projection, simply put.

Your mind is a dark and negative spiral of harmful thoughts, reminding you of all that you’re not and why that is just not enough for Aran - for anyone, even. Yachi attempts to console you as Kiyoko and Suga place you on your bed? No, definitely not your bed. You may be wasted out of your mind but you’re cognizant to your surroundings that are in no way familiar at the moment. The three of them are able to reduce you from loud cries to soft whimpers in some time and eventually you’re all off to bed but you know deep inside of you everything will be different come tomorrow. How long would you continue being alright with being just a friend?

Credits:

raise your hand if you, too, have drunk your feelings and ended up crying

you've always held on to the hope that aran liked you too

he had always treated you differently than other guys

kiyoko, suga, and yachi>>>

taglist: OPEN! send an ask to be added :) AGE IN BIO PLZ

@szeonn @thatnikkixx @slutkags @roselleviennesstuff @bookiedoll @kris-1 @lucacangettathisass @serostapesweat @kiyokoism @ctrlaprilx @fantasycantasy

a/n: LONG overdue but here it is! i'm finally all moved in and got my wifi setup so ta-da :) i should go back to updating daily like i had been. i'm excited, it's about to get good >:) let me know your thoughts so far!!

#haikyuu x reader #aran x reader #haikyuu smau #hq smau #aran smau #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #aran x you #inarizaki x y/n #inarizaki x you #inarizaki scenarios #aran fluff #kita shinsuke #haikyuu kiyoko #kiyoko #sugawara koushi #OML smau #oikawa tooru #hq iwaizumi #miya atsumu #miya osumu #suna rinatro #aran ojiro

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s 2021 Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Knowledge of Shaw’s 2020 Birthday R&S is highly recommended before reading this!

[ This R&S was released on 16 June 2021 ]

[ Chapter One ]

This is the fifth month that Shaw is learning how to skateboard. The little buddies who started out with him had given up one after the other because they couldn’t endure the bitter taste of tripping and falling. In the end, he’s the only one left.

The wheels grate against the ground in a regular rhythm. Leaping over the obstacle, it makes a swerve, accelerates, and flips... the skateboard is lithe and graceful beneath Shaw’s feet, akin to a reed leaf as it brings him into the largest skatepark in Loveland City with a wilful rush.

“Shaw! Shaw!”

Shaw halts the skateboard and turns around.

A little fatty with a band-aid on his knee walks over, smiling and revealing his missing front teeth. “Finally found you.”

Shaw laughs scornfully. “Why’s a defeated opponent looking for me? Do you want to lose the remaining half of your front teeth?”

“You!” Little Fatty flushes red in an instant. He straightens his neck and points to an area behind him. “I’m not competing with you. Someone else wants to!”

Shaw looks in the direction of his finger. A boy who is obviously taller than him by a head smiles at him, the skateboard beneath his feet sliding back and forth. At a glance, it’s clear that he’s experienced.

“My Bro Zhou is in the Loveland City Qing Xun Team,” Little Fatty hugs his arms with pride, as though he’s the one in the team. “So? Dare to accept it?”

So that’s how it is. He’s a scaredy cat who only dares to call in reinforcements.

Shaw purses his lips. He steps on the tail of the skateboard, and it responds by flipping upwards, the the edge of the board landing steadily in his palm. “Why not? What are we competing in?”

Bro Zhou shrugs. “I won’t make things hard for newbies. We’ll compete in tic-tacs and going over obstacles. How’s that?”

“Sure.”

[Trivia] Tic-tacs are a series of consecutive heelside-to-toeside kickturns where your feet remain on the skateboard. I copied this from Google and have no idea what it means LOL

-

THUD-

Losing his balance for just a moment, Shaw falls heavily onto the ground. His knees, elbows... waves of pain bloom on every joint. It isn’t a good feeling, but what makes Shaw even more frustrated is the arrogant laughter of Little Fatty. t’s even noisier than the cicadas from afar.

“HAHAHAHA Shaw lost! Let’s see if you still have the guts to be proud!”

He has a lot to say despite being a noob. Shaw rolls his eyes. Enduring the pain, he’s just about to lift himself up by the elbows when Bro Zhou walks over to him, offering him a hand. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.”

The other party continues. “But at your age, it’s best to stick to the basics. There’s no hurry to learn high difficulty moves like the dolphin flip. You’ll definitely fall.”

Shaw’s expression immediately turns cold. “I don’t need your pointers on what I can learn at whatever age.” He doesn’t touch the hand, standing up by himself. Lifting his head, he gives the other party a look over. “Do you come here often?”

“The Qing Xun Team practises here every day.”

“Okay. Next time, I’ll definitely win against you.”

Shaw doesn’t bother about the expressions on Bro Zhou’s and the Little Fatty’s faces after hearing his words. He casually pats off the dust on his body, picks up the skateboard which is flipped over on the floor, and leaves the skatepark.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

The moment Shaw enters through the doors of the antique store, the Old Man’s uproar begins. “Little Ancestor, did you wreck havoc in the Heavenly Palace again?”

[Note] Here, the Old Man calls Shaw “小祖宗”, which literally means “Little Ancestor”. This term is used in an affectionate way to address a naughty child

“Wrecking havoc in the Heavenly Palace” is a reference to a novel called Journey to the West (西游记), which features a troublemaking Monkey King Sun Wukong

“I’m hungry. What’s there to eat today?” Shaw doesn’t respond to the shopkeeper’s words. Placing his bag and skateboard behind the counter, he reaches out to play with the silly parrot at the entrance - it’s truly silly. Even after teaching it for a month, it can’t even say “welcome to the shop”. It causes Shaw to wonder if the Old Man was perhaps duped of his money once again.

“All you know how to do is eat...” The Old Man sets down the ancient text in his hands and props up his presbyopic glasses. “Old Qian from next door boiled chicken soup today and is giving us half. I’ll stir-fry two dishes. You can ask if the chicken soup is ready.”

Shaw makes an “mm” of acknowledgement, then turns around and heads next door.

The shopkeeper gets up and takes a few steps towards the kitchen. Then, he abruptly returns to the counter, reaching out to touch the coarse scratch marks at the edge of the skateboard. Inexplicably, he sighs.

The chicken soup is a little bland, and the stir-fried dishes are a little salty. Mixing and eating them together is just nice. Shaw lowers his head and pushes rice into his mouth with chopsticks. In his left ear, he hears the news of how the GDP of Loveland City has risen. In his right ear, he hears the nagging of his mentor:

“...I’m not discouraging you from playing with this thing. It’s good to toughen yourself up while you’re young and your bones and muscles are sturdy. But don’t be too rash. This... this thing of yours...”

“Skateboard.” Shaw speaks.

“Yes, skateboard. I remember that it’s only been a month since it was bought, and it’s already tormented to such a state. You have such an impulsive temperament. You should be more level-headed.”

What does this have to do with temperament? If I were to truly be impulsive, I wouldn’t need a month. Just three days would be enough to break a skateboard. Shaw looks at the chicken leg in his bowl, not saying these words aloud.

“Also, remember to report to the shop early tomorrow. Old Qian and I are preparing to head to the neighbouring city to look for goods. You should come along to broaden your horizons.” The shopkeeper taps his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl, signalling for Shaw to pay more attention. “Isn’t it your birthday tomorrow? I could pick out a gift for you! Sigh, I actually had my eye on an agate snuff bottle, but the guy suddenly decided not to sell it...”

“I’m not going tomorrow.” Shaw interrupts the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper furrows his brows. “Why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not. I have proper business to attend to tomorrow. The school organised a visit to the museum.” Shaw lifts his eyes, and his thin lips curve upwards. “The things I see there will be much more valuable than those trivial things you fiddle with.”

“You little rascal!”

Shaw laughs, wedging the chicken leg between his chopsticks and sending it into his mentor’s bowl. “I’m full, so I’m heading to the back to do my homework. Chicken legs are really nutritious, so you should have it.”

“Tsk tsk, and you still said you weren’t throwing a tantrum. You aren’t going home again?”

“I don’t want to go back today. I’ll definitely go back tomorrow.” Shaw has already walked to the entrance. He suddenly thinks of something, and turns his head to ask a question. “Mentor, your shop will always be open, right?”

These words came out of nowhere, and the shopkeeper isn’t able to comprehend them. “What?”

“Nothing much. I’m just worried that I won’t have a place to have dinner if an old man like you were to throw in the towel someday.”

The shopkeeper fumes with a glare. “What do you mean by that? You only care about the food? Also, my shop can continue running for a decade or two. I’m still waiting for you to bring back a disciple or a wife to serve me tea!”

Shaw lets out an “oh”, and his eyes crinkle. “In that case, you’ll have to wait for another twenty or thirty years.”

The eyesight of the shopkeeper is no longer as good as before, but he can clearly see that the smile of this child didn’t reach his eyes. After Shaw leaves, he suddenly recalls the fortune that he drew for Shaw half a year ago:��“What awaits this catastrophe is a new beginning...”

This child is will meet his predestined fate this year, so what’s left is to see how he endures through it. The shopkeeper shakes his head, sighing once again.

[Note] The actual fortune is “河图数九，洛书数七，脐于九陵，七日来复” but I don’t have the energy to explain it so what I’ve translated above is the overall meaning :>

-

[ Chapter Three ]

When Shaw awakens on the next day, the shopkeeper has already left to inspect the goods. The shop is empty, and he’s the only one left.

Westmoon Street is lined with old houses, and there’s no soundproofing. Lying on the bed, Shaw can hear the chirping of birds outside the window, the yelling of people on the street, and the babble of the Chinese opera from the old bookstore next door: “I’m just like a caged bird with wings that can’t be outstretched. I’m just like a shallow water dragon trapped on a beach...”

Shaw rubs his face, then sits up on the bed.

The school had set the assembling time to be 9am. Heading out now will give him more than enough time. Shaw quickly washes his face and rinses his mouth. Just as he walks towards the front counter with some rice grains from the kitchen for the parrot to eat, he suddenly discovers that there’s something on the counter.

Walking over, Shaw sees that there’s a cake box as well as a t-shirt which has been washed clean.

There’s a slip of paper on the shirt. The strokes are clean and thin. At a glance, he knows that this is the Old Man’s handwriting: You need energy and drive to participate in the school activity. Don’t wear yesterday’s dirty clothes. Change into this.

The shirt look slightly familiar. He probably changed out of it one day and forgot about it, leaving it in the antique shop. Shaw pays it no mind, turning his head to that small cake once again. The various calligraphy and writings in the antique store are considered relatively charming. Yet, why does he always buy such unsophisticated cakes?

When his classmates celebrate their birthdays, what they eat are high quality custom-made cakes - red velvet, matcha crepe, chocolate molten lava... such a traditional longevity cake is probably found only in a place like Westmoon Street. It’s clear from the light red and light green colours that the embellishments on the cake were made by hand. Eating it would definitely dye his tongue. If he were to speak later, wouldn’t he get laughed at by his classmates?

Shaw bunches up his brows, but the fork in his hand doesn’t stop. The cream is plant-based and tastes bad. He eats a small egg shell at the base of the cake and it tastes bad. The “Happy Birthday” was written using peach jam, and it tastes really bad.

The silly parrot at the side tilts its head, watching as the boy eats mouthfuls while shunning it with every bite, finishing the cake entirely.

Shaw wipes his mouth, then rinses it with the barley tea on the table. Picking up that t-shirt, he returns into the house and changes his clothes. 

-

[ Chapter Four ]

“...this ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ depicts four famous scholars enjoying themselves. Students, do you know who the Seven Sages of the bamboo forest are?”

[Trivia] If you’re interested in seeing the actual painting, search for “高逸图” (“gao yi tu”)

“It’s such a waste that you didn’t watch yesterday’s episode. That scene where the main lead destroyed the opponent like a boss is unparalleled!”

“Aside from the both of us, did anyone else have fun at Anime City?”

“Are you done with the math homework? Lend it to me - I’ll find a place to copy it.”

...

The question posed by the museum guide is drowned out amidst the laughing and frolicking of the kids. He forces a smile while shaking his head. All of a sudden, he notices that a boy with bluish purple hair isn’t the same as the other kids. He’s staring at an ancient painting in the showcase, lost in thought.

As though seeing a saviour, the guide quickly points at him. “Student, why don’t you give me an answer? It’s fine even if you get it wrong. Uncle will explain to you!”

“...” Shaw turns his head, opening his mouth to say some words, but his voice doesn’t reach the guide’s ears.

“Student, what did you say?” The guide raises his volume.

“I said that the four people in ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ are Shan Tao, Wang Jie, Liu Ling and Ruan Ji.” Shaw’s face is pretty much expressionless, and there aren't many fluctuations in his tone. “The one sitting down with his hands on his knees at the far right is Shan Tao. The one holding the ruyi sceptre is Wang Tao. The one next to him and drinking wine is Liu Ling. A boy is serving him. The one at the far left needs no mention - he’s the first of the Sages, Ruan Ji. So this painting is missing Ji Tang, Xiang Xiu and Ruan Xian.”

“...”

The surroundings gradually quieten down, and only Shaw’s voice echoes in front of the showcase.

"The scholars in this painting evoke a refined and tasteful sentiment, and the lines are beautiful. This is an extremely precious treasure in the realm of silk scrolls. This is why the ‘Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent’ has always been kept in the royal palace. It’s a pity that in order for our predecessors to avoid taboos, only Si Ma Zhong’s inscription is left on it.”

The youth lifts his chin, shooting a playful smile at the guide. “Okay Uncle, you can explain the next museum piece now.”

“Shaw, you’re incredible!” His classmates flock over to him, bumping him on the shoulders. “You were staring at that painting for such a long time. Did you memorise the words on the museum label?”

“Tch. These’s no need to memorise the museum labels for such things. You’ll know it from a glance.” Shaw laughs. “Also, I wasn’t looking at this painting...” When he says this, he pauses for a moment, swallowing his words.

If he wasn’t looking at this painting, which one was he looking at? The students follow Shaw’s gaze, and realise that there’s a floral painting hanging next to the “Painting of the Elevated and Pre-eminent”.

“Painting of a Courtyard and Dayliles”, Northern Song Dynasty, Xuan He Imperial Art Academy, anonymous... The students read the explanatory note on the museum label.

[Trivia] If you’re interested in seeing the actual painting, search for “霜庭萱草图” (“shuang ting xuan cao tu”)

The painting seems to depict a corner of a courtyard. A few daylilies display the patterns on their leaves. One big and one small dragonfly are perched on the flower. Aside from that, there isn’t anything else interesting about it. This painting doesn’t seem to have a name or seal, neither does it have a detailed explanation. Even the guide skipped past it. Since it isn’t a rare and precious ancient painting, what exactly was Shaw looking at?

His classmates are a little puzzled.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

All the classes assemble in lines at the entrance of the museum. The teacher very patiently reminds the students not to forget to do their homework over the weekend, and to remember to write down their reflections about the museum. The students drawl out “got it”, but their hearts have long since flown a million miles away, ready to keep toys and snacks company.

“Shaw!” After dispersing, Shaw’s classmates wave at him.

Shaw walks over. “What’s up?”

“All of us know that you aren’t in a good mood because you lost to a senior in skateboarding yesterday. Isn’t it your birthday? Bro Lu bought the newest game, so let’s head over to play at his place.” His classmate smiles while putting an arm around his shoulder.

“Who told you that I lost yesterday?” Shaw speaks coldly.

“Who else but Fatty? He was so proud yesterday.” The classmate gives Shaw a pat. “Relax, we’re on your side. Don’t think about these unhappy things. Next time, we’ll have lots of opportunities to get revenge...”

“If I wanted revenge, I wouldn’t wait till next time.” Shaw purses his lips. “I’m heading to the skatepark now. You guys coming?”

-

Since it’s the weekend, quite a number of skateboard hobbyists are already practising by the time Shaw reaches the skatepark. Very quickly, he locates Bro Zhou from yesterday.

Shaw gets straight to the point. “I lost yesterday. Today, I want to have a race with you. Do you accept?”

A hint of shock is in Bro Zhou’s eyes. He has probably never met a kid who is this unwilling to lose. “You fell so badly yesterday but still want to compete with me? You should practise more!”

“There’s no need to practise more when competing with you,” Shaw says.

With this, Bro Zhou’s temper starts to flare. He tilts his chin. “Fine, come on. Just don’t cry if you fall and break your arm today.”

A short while later, the news of how a “junior high school newbie dared to challenge Bro Zhou from the Qing Xun Team” spreads throughout the skatepark. Everyone gathers at both sides of the race course, curiously sizing up the main lead for today.

“S-Shaw...” His classmate pulls on Shaw’s arm. Looking at the deep bowl in front, he gulps. “Are you sure you’re competing with him in this? It won’t be good news if you fall!”

“If I want to play, of course I’ll only play the fun stuff. Just watch.”

Shaw walks to the starting line and takes a deep breath. When moving his limbs, his hand subconsciously touches the hem of the t-shirt - there’s a small Chinese trumpet vine. The green leaves and red petals cover the hole which was originally on the shirt. It’s just that the stitches are crooked, and it’s incredibly crude. At a glance, it’s clear that it wasn’t sewn by someone familiar with needlework. 

[Fun fact] Chinese trumpet vine is 凌霄花 (“ling xiao hua”)

Shaw’s name in CN is 凌肖 (“ling xiao”)

Mentor is the best <3

He bites his lower lip.

The referee raises both hands. “The old rules apply. After getting past the Cola can obstacles, cross the bowl. The first person who reaches the goal will win. Ready... go!”

In the midst of a clamour, a bluish purple light rushes forward, taking the lead.

-

[ Chapter Six ]

The friction of wheels against the ground results in ear-piercing screeches. The skateboard brings Shaw forward at a high speed, and the cold strong wind accompanies the summer heat waves, brushing past his cheeks. The upright Cola cans aren’t enough to faze him. With the continuous twisting of his waist and a skateboard which moves naturally like flowing water, he and his opponent seem to bypass the obstacles comprising of twelve Cola cans at the same time-

There are three consecutive rows of Cola can structures in front of him. He has to use all sorts of techniques to jump over them. That way, he can rush down the bowl, and enter the final stage.

The arm he injured from the fall yesterday is still aching faintly. His feet seem to be protesting as well. He successfully jumps over the first row, the second row... Shaw holds his breath. He steps on the tail of the skateboard with his left foot. Gravity takes over quickly, and his right foot causes the skateboard to rise. The skateboard beneath his feet is akin to a flying fish jumping out of the water surface, creating a rotating arc above the Cola cans!

“It’s a dolphin flip!” Members of the audience exclaim.

Clack! Shaw’s shoulders wobble slightly when his feet return to the skateboard. When he finally stands steadily, he continues rushing forward. The final bowl is right in front of him. 

The moment the skateboard dives downwards, Shaw feels a brief moment of weightlessness. This feeling is reminiscent of being thrown out of the entire world, making one want to continue falling like this until they plummet into the bottom of the swamp. The deep bowl is like the trough he’s currently going through. If he’s unable to climb out of the trough, he will drown in hatred, anger, powerlessness, disappointment... and lose to that weak heart of his.

But he’s Shaw, and he won’t lose just like that.

With a rapid dash, he soars upwards without trouble - underneath the brilliant blazing sun, the youth leaps out of the bowl!

After flying out of the bowl, the inertia causes Shaw to stumble a few steps. He falls onto the ground, lying on his back while pressing the finish line.

At the same time, he hears a dull thud from the bowl - his opponent had fallen back into it.

“Shaw won!” “Shaw reached the goal first!” “That rascal actually won against Bro Zhou?” “This competition was so awesome!” ...all sorts of voices emerge in the surroundings in a disorderly fashion, and a set of footsteps walk towards him.

“Your name’s Shaw?” A masculine voice asks from above his head.

Shaw doesn't speak.

“I’m Coach Wang from Loveland City’s Qing Xun Skateboarding Team,” that voice continues. “I see that you have lots of talent, and will make a good young successor. Are you interested in joining the Qing Xun Team?”

While saying this, a registration form is handed to him.

The late afternoon sun illuminates the sheet of paper, reflecting a glaring light akin to snow. Shaw takes one look at the registration form, then shifts his lips slightly. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“My shirt’s really expensive, so it isn’t worth tearing them.”

The coach is rendered speechless.

Just as he’s about to say a few more words to persuade the kid, he suddenly spots the small flower at the corner of Shaw’s shirt from his periphery - this is clearly not an expensive t-shirt. These days, few shirts are mended using embroidery. And the fact that he’s willing to wear it despite the clumsy embroidery...

This kid has family members whom he cares very much about. The coach seems to understand this. His lips open and shut, and he swallows back the lines he prepared. In the end, he simply says, “...that dolphin flip you did earlier wasn’t bad.”

“Of course.”

The coach laughs as he leaves. Amidst the cheers from the surroundings, Shaw lies on the ground. Covering his eyes with his hand, he laughs.

“I won. Happy birthday to me.”

🛹 Shaw’s Date Prologue: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (prologue)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you'd probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: Age gap (15-ish years), smut, degradation, unprotected sex. This story is 18+ older. This is not a story for minors.

A/N: Hello, hello!! I figured that since I've made a writing tumblr, I should post my story on here!! This is a multichapter story, so I am very excited to go on this journey with y'all!! I already have multiple chapters written and published, so these should be coming out VERY quickly. If you don't want to wait to catch up, you can read everything I have on ao3! This chapter starts as a flashback, and then the next chapter and the rest from here on out will be actual plot!

masterlist || read on ao3

“If you were waitin’ on the sunshine, blue sky

Cheap high, lullaby

Then my best habit’s letting you down”

- The Maine, “My Best Habit”

Two years earlier

Your eyes scanned the University Ballroom, your champagne glass practically ignored in your hand. You hated all these alumni networking galas and avoided going to them as much as possible. Old, sleazy lawyers with much younger women on their arm reliving their best cases with each other and expecting all the new law students to laugh when they were able to get their defendant acquitted because of some dumb technicality. It made you sick.

It didn’t help that you were already going in with a bad attitude. Your ex-boyfriend had dropped by your apartment that morning to pick up the rest of his stuff, and he decided that the best person to help him with that was the girl he had been cheating on you with. You caught them together three weeks ago, and you had been so stressed from midterms that you hadn’t even had the chance to go out, get drunk, and have wildly irresponsible rebound sex.

But you had to suck it up for the night, at least until you were able to get the answer you came for. After that, you could go back to your apartment, replace your too tight and too short dress with some nice pajamas, and watch trashy reality TV until you passed out on your couch.

You scanned the room a few more times until you caught sight of a tall man in a dark suit leaning against the bar. Bingo. You set your champagne flute down and ran over to him as fast as your heels could take you. Once you were just a few steps away, you quickly composed yourself and walked straight into his line of sight.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rarely came to alumni events here at George Washington Law School, citing that he wasn’t even a prosecutor anymore and had much more important work to do back at the BAU, but he was going as favor to his old law school buddy. Plus, it was either coming to this or going out to the bar with the team, and seeing as he had just signed the divorce papers with Haley, he wanted to be somewhere he wasn’t going to be profiled all night. The free champagne was also a bonus.

When you saw that his name was on the RSVP list, you knew that you had to go.

“Agent Hotchner?” you asked, giving him your best straight A student smile.

He refused to look up right away, not giving you the chance to charm him. “I’m not currently on duty. If there is a case you would like the BAU to look over, that’s handled by our media liaison,” he said absently, taking another sip of champagne.

You frowned but kept your hand out for him to shake. “That’s not what I’m here for, I-” You took a breath to compose yourself. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a first year here- getting a joint JD and masters in forensic psychology. My goal is to become a prosecutor,” you pressed, and you were rewarded when he perked up in interest. He slid his drink on the table.

“Most law firms don’t usually want a prosecutor who’s going to empathize with the person you’re prosecuting,” he mused, and shook your hand, his grip just tight enough to pass as faux politeness.

You shook your head and clasped your hands behind your back, trying to ignore how warm his hands were. “I think the best prosecutors empathize with the defendants,” you admitted. “Isn’t that how you succeeded as both a prosecutor and as a federal agent? That’s actually why I came to you, I wanted to ask you a question... about my thesis,” you added quickly, figuring that the best way to get him to talk to you.

Aaron’s posture changed from half asleep to maybe listening, and your face went red. Sure, you only came to the event to talk to him, but you never thought that you’d actually get Aaron Hotchner to pay attention to you. “I didn’t empathize with the people I was putting in jail,” he told you, his voice ice cold. “That didn’t come until I worked in the BAU, and even now, I wouldn’t call it empathy. Just understanding of how they became the type of person they are.” He leaned sideways on the bar counter and you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. You shifted slightly and felt the hem of your dress move up your thighs ever so slightly. Aaron noticed too, if the lick of his lips was anything to go by.

You took his silence as your signal to ask your question. “You offered Jessica Michaelson a lesser sentence that had her released in just three years despite the fact that she murdered her brother in cold blood in his sleep. You had the evidence, why didn’t you push for premeditation?” you asked, and his eyebrow quirked upwards. “In the case The People vs. Michaelson,” you added unnecessarily, trying to break the silence.

“I know the case you’re referring to. I was the lead on it,” he reminded you, his voice edging on dangerous. “You know, most people aren’t interested in my days as a lawyer.”

You shrugged, hoping to appear more confident than you felt. “I’m not most people,” you agreed, biting down on your lower lip. His gaze was so intense, and it was affecting you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. It was turning you on, you realized with a start. It had been a while since you had last had sex, and it was driving you only slightly crazy. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Aaron grabbed a champagne flute from a server walking by, and shoved it in your direction. You grabbed it cautiously. “Did you read the police report on the case?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of the champagne. The alcohol was making you bolder, and you stepped towards him. “Then you’ll know that there was very little physical evidence tying her to the muder. We chose to offer the charge that would have stuck instead of risking her being found not guilty.”

You gritted your teeth together in an effort to calm yourself down. “She murdered four people within the six months after she was released from prison,” you reminded him.

That seemed to have struck a chord with Aaron, and his steely persona seemed to fade ever so slightly. He sighed exasperatedly; you were obviously getting on his nerves. “The prints and DNA that were collected and put into VICAP when she was in prison are what got her caught in the end, and that was the evidence needed to lock her away for life. We wouldn’t have gotten those prints without her original charge. It all worked out.”

You groaned and threw your hands in the air. “You couldn’t have predicted that, though,” you argued. “And people have been found guilty with way less evidence than you had in the original case. I think you just felt bad for her, considering her brother was a real piece of shit.” You were being difficult now, you knew that. But there was something about Aaron Hotcher that was pulling you in, and you wanted to see how far you could push him.

Aaron gave you a predatory grin and he stepped towards you ever so slightly, finishing his drink. He must have had multiple drinks too, judging by the soft flush on his face. “Oh, you do?” He seemed amused now. He slowly raked his eyes from your face, down your neck, and down the rest of your body, and you forgot how to breath. You knew that it was inappropriate and that he was a highly respected FBI agent, even if he was kind of an asshole at the moment. You also knew that the two of you were crossing lines that neither of you should have even been close to, but you shivered under the weight of his gaze all the same.

You shifted back and forth, your brain trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I do. And I know that you transferred to the FBI after Michaelson was arrested again, which makes me think that this case was your breaking point,” you ranted, your hands becoming more and more animated.

Aaron chuckled, but there was very little amusement behind it. “Are you sure you want to be a lawyer?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because you’re starting to talk like a profiler.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “No thanks,” you said firmly, and he just shrugged before making a move to walk past you. You sidestepped in front of him, effectively blocking him from going anywhere. But it was obvious that he was done talking about this.

In your mind, you had two options now. You could keep pushing him about a case that he obviously didn’t want to talk to you about, or you could switch gears in your brain and have him help you solve your... other problem. Aaron was attractive, and you were getting tired of guys your age. You noticed the distinct lack of a wedding ring on his finger, but there was still a tan to show that it had been there. So either he was recently separated or just trying to cheat on his wife. You wanted to not care whichever it was, but a pang in your heart told you to be considerate. Besides, you did not want to get involved with another cheater.

“Must be hard to be at these events without your wife here to scare off all the lonely female law students,” you mused cautiously. You didn’t want to come on too strong, but the alcohol in your system was slowly clouding your ability to be subtle.

Aaron cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “I’m not married,” he said, too quickly and too defensively. So he’s separated, you thought, and you stepped closer to him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out your endgame. “Well, I would love to discuss your work as a prosecutor more when there are less… distractions around,” you whispered, your words breathy. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, do I make you nervous?” You sounded a lot more confident than you felt.

Aaron just smirked and grabbed your free hand, covering it in both of his, and the action was surprisingly soft, even if it was way too late for him to try acting suave. His eyes, on the other hand, told a whole other story. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes were practically black. “I face the worst people in society on a daily basis. Desperate law students don’t make me nervous. In fact…” He stepped towards you, looking around to make sure nobody else was looking. Aaron leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with every word. “I think that I make you nervous. And more than nervous, I make you very excited.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled back, a smug smile gracing his lips. You yanked your hand back to preserve what little dignity you had left, but it was too late. “Now, if you would like to discuss my prosecuting career more in depth, then you can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU,” he continued, obviously proud of himself and the effect he was having on you. He pulled out a business card and upon further instruction, you realized that it wasn’t even his. Jennifer Jareu the name read. “Our media liaison will be able to help you organize that. Now if you don’t mind, I am going to retire for the night.”

Aaron finished the rest of his drink and brushed past you while you were still trying to get your thoughts under control. “Oh, and you’ll make a wonderful lawyer someday, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, and that snapped you back into action.

You followed, running around him and cutting him off. “And if I don’t want to discuss your prosecuting career?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. “What if I was interested in a… less formal meeting?”

That was all the permission he needed. Aaron grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the ballroom, the two of you moving so fast that nobody in the room even had a chance to put two and two together. There was an empty hallway just next to the entrance of the room and Aaron pulled you in that direction, pressing you against the wall and kissing you fiercely the second the two of you were alone.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss, but in a strange role reversal, he let you take the lead. It’s certainly not what you expected from Aaron Hotchner who, until now, had been controlling every aspect of your meeting. You realized then that this was his way of making sure you were okay with what was happening- giving you a chance to back out and change your mind. You just answered by tangling your hands in his hair, pulling so that he was at just the right angle to kiss you.

Aaron dug his fingers into your hips, hard enough to make you gasp out. You were definitely going to have bruises the next day, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He shoved his leg in between yours and tugged on your lip with his teeth, which made you whimper involuntarily. He smirked against your lips, obviously proud of the noises he was drawing from you. You pulled on his hair harder as a sign of irritation, but that seemed to only make him more amused as he pulled away to laugh into your neck.

“Are we just going to make out against a wall like we’re back in high school, or are you going to actually do something worth my time?” you breathe, fighting to keep your voice even and light. It only halfway worked as he dragged his tongue up your neck to your pulse point. And then he bit down, hard.

It took everything in your power to stay quiet, especially as he softly kissed the newly forming bruise. His attack on your neck was relentless as he pulled your hips and back forth against his thigh. You whimpered as you desperately tried to get any friction from the simple movement. Your skirt was now dangerously close to being pushed so far up your legs that you would be completely exposed.

You pulled away first- you had to or your legs were going to completely give out from under you. You desperately tried to get your breathing under control and, to your annoyance, he looked perfectly composed. The only thing giving him away was his slightly swollen lips.

His fingers trailed up your thigh, getting so close to where you want him. “What would you like me to do then?” he asked easily, his voice almost sounding bored. You were speechless, like your brain had just short circuited. There were a lot of things you wanted him to do, but the words were lost on the tip of your tongue. “If you want something, you have to ask for it.” That was a demand, and he punctuated it by pressing his thigh further into you. You were sure he was going to have a wet spot on his slacks. He took the hand not in between your legs and grabbed your jaw forcefully, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “Use your words, little girl.”

You realize that the two of you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and you had the power to decide whether or not to jump over. It gave you a strange sense of power. Logically, you knew it was a bad idea. He was too old for you, obviously going through some sort of relationship trauma, and wasn’t somebody you could talk to your friends and family about. But the less rational side wanted him so badly it hurt. You wanted him more than you’ve wanted anything or anyone in a long time.

You noticed your strawberry colored lipstick was smudged ever so slightly on the corner of his mouth, and that’s all it took for you to jump off the side of the cliff. “I want you to drag me into the empty classroom just down the hall and fuck me senseless. I want you to use me,” you moan before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking.

The look on his face is something you’ll never forget. There was a mix of shock and arousal, but also something primitive; His eyes darkened when you told him to use you, and there was a fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe even both.

He removed his hands from your mouth and legs, only to place his hand on the small of your back. He began walking towards the classroom you had pointed out, much too slow for your liking, but he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’re going to regret asking me to use you,” he practically growls in your ear, each word increasing your arousal. “Are you one of those lonely female law students you warned me about? So desperate and needy for a real man to bend you over a table and fuck you until you can’t walk straight? Ready and willing to whore yourself out for the first man who gives you a second glance?”

Your breath hitched as you stuttered out your answer. “Y-yes, Agent Hotchner,” you whispered as he opened the classroom door and guided you in.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, he was back on your lips again, lifting you so that you were sitting on one of the desks with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Call me Aaron,” he mumbled in between kisses, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You were a moaning mess at this point as his hands pushed your dress up to your waist. His hands and lips were somehow everywhere at once and you were so hot and all you could think about was getting your damn dress off, but Aaron seemed to have other plans.

He ran his fingers up your lace covered slit and he just chuckled into your lips. “You’re so wet for me, already,” he groaned and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “And I’ve barely touched you. Do my words really have that much effect on you? Do you like it when I call you a whore?”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and quickly pulled them down. You could feel his bulge pressing against you and all you could think about was how badly you wanted it. How badly you wanted him. Your hands moved down his chest to make quick work of his belt, and his pants followed after.

“Please, please Aaron,” you begged, desperately trying to create some friction against him. His fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your head back so that you were looking at him.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” His fingers slowly ran up your slit, not enough to give you any pleasure. He was teasing you and enjoying every second of it. “And I wish I could take my time with you. The things I want to do to you…” Two of his fingers entered you and you cried out loudly. “But somebody could walk in on us at any second. I’m sure they can all hear you moaning like a dirty whore, all for me. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? So desperate for my attention and approval.”

His words turned you on more than you would have liked to admit. “Yes, Aaron yes. Please-” you were cut off by Aaron curling his fingers, hitting that spot that made you want to scream out in pleasure. But all too soon, they were gone.

He inspected his fingers, which were now covered in your juices, before bringing them to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and you eagerly complied, wrapping your lips around his fingers and moaning at the taste of yourself. “I’ll just have to fuck you quickly here, and then you’ll be begging for more next time,” he groaned and finally- finally- entered you.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to him, thrusting roughly into you. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brought his hand to your neck. He didn’t put any pressure, but he wanted you to know that he could and would if you decided to get mouthy with him.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk you were sitting on, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes started to close in pleasure as his hips slammed into yours, but they shot open as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Look at me. I want to see you when you cum,” he ordered, and you nodded the best you could.

“Yes sir!” you cried out, unsure of what else to say.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Aaron released your throat and moved his hand down so that he was stimulating your clit. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as your legs started to twitch. Aaron took this as motivation to slam into you even harder, relishing each time you gasped out his name.

His pace was unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air. Keeping your eyes open was a challenge, but you were able to do it with his soft mutters of praise. “Even brats like you can be good girls,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You just need somebody to fuck it into you.”

You were unable to respond coherently, so you just settled on begging even more, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. Aaron seemed to know, and he sped up his fingers against your clit. You wanted to scream out for him, but your voice wasn’t working. “What did I say before?” he asks roughly. “If you want something, ask for it.”

“Please… please can I cum?” you cried out, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. “Please let me cum around your cock!”

He nodded in approval and you had to muffle yourself in his neck to keep quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm, the overstimulation almost too much, but it wasn’t long before he was moaning your name, and you felt him fill you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, both breathing heavily as the situation started to sink in. You just let a guy almost 15 years older than you that you just met fuck you in an empty classroom, and you really enjoyed it. Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he was going through a full crisis.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you winced at the feeling. He pulled up his pants quickly. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, looking around the empty classroom. “I don’t have anything good to clean you up with.” A box of kleenex caught his eye and he grabbed a few tissues. It was better than nothing.

You chuckled nervously and waved it off. “It’s fine,” you promised, your voice coming out shakier than you expected, but he ignored you. He wiped the mess dripping down your thighs. You were cold. He must have noticed, because he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked softly, and it was a full 180 from the way he had just been talking to you.

“I’m great,” you admitted honestly. “Seriously, that was… great.”

Aaron smiled at you- the first real smile he had given you all night. “It wasn’t too much?” he confirmed, and you suddenly remembered what he had said to you earlier. ...then you’ll be begging for more next time. Was he planning on a next time? You wouldn’t have minded it.

You shook your head and slowly slid off the table. You took one of the tissues and wiped up the mess that was left on the table. “Not at all. In fact, I could take more. Next time.” Your voice was light and airy. Aaron watched as you picked your underwear off the floor. There was no way you were putting those back on, not when you had no idea when the floor was last cleaned.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he teased, eyeing you carefully.

“Well I can’t keep it if I only have your media liaison’s number,” you reminded him, your eyebrow raised. Aaron chuckled and pulled out another business card, except this time it was his. You plucked the card out of his hands and inspected it carefully. “I’ll call you sometime. You can do all those other things we didn’t have time to do.” You were on your tiptoes now, whispering in his ear. “You know… my mouth can do a lot more than just ask for things.” As you spoke, you slipped your panties into his back pocket. You just laughed as you heard a soft gasp escape his lips.

You made your way towards the door, your legs wobbling dangerously underneath you. You were sure that you looked like a mess, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you was Aaron Hotchner’s eyes glued to your ass. “Get home safe,” he told you and you let yourself smile. Maybe it was a bad idea to start sleeping with a recent divorcee, but the sex was great and you both knew where you stood with the other person. No feelings, just fucking out your frustrations and stress.

Oh yeah, coming to this event was definitely a good call on your part.

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