#but yet the fandom has reduced him to a wallet.

[imthebadguyyy]

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

[mdawritings]

“Arrested” [Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader]

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: E

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader

Wordcount: 8,510

Summary: 

The BAU is working a case in the DC area: an unsub killing women outside of nightclubs and bars. When you get arrested and manage to end up in the same precinct as Aaron Hotchner, the team discovers that their unit chief has been sleeping with a MUCH younger woman. Even more importantly, they discover that aside from being Hotch's fuck buddy, you have had direct contact with the unsub. Told through cute and smutty flashbacks throughout your relationship with Aaron.

AO3 Link

It had been weeks since you’d seen Aaron. The first week you didn’t see him was because of a case over the weekend in Florida. You had sent him a few scandalous pictures while he was flying home…

You rest your head against the arm of your sofa lazily. You reach for the phone and look at the simple text from Aaron. “On the way home now. I want to see you soon.” Just those words send bolts of happiness, excitement, and arousal through you. You press the top of your phone to your lips to suppress your growing smile. You text him back.

“Been imagining your hands touching me instead of my own”

Aaron picks up his phone at the chime. He reads the message from you and can’t help but start to stir a little. God, the thoughts of you home alone… touching yourself thinking about him. Yeah, that definitely does something to him. It’s not like you weren’t in his thoughts the entire time. It's difficult to focus on a case when all he really wants is to be home, buried under the covers with you, taking in your light, yet intoxicating perfume. Touching your soft, perfect skin. Hearing you scream his name… He almost lets out a moan but catches himself and looks around the jet at his sleeping coworkers.

He quickly replies to your message, “Oh yeah?”

You jump up from the couch, exhaustion rapidly dissipating from your previously sore limbs at the thought of seeing Aaron tonight. Memories of his large hands touching, groping, squeezing your body flood into your mind.

You hurry to slip on the purple lingerie set you bought. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror. You take a few minutes, capturing some, quite honestly, fucking amazing photos.

“Missing the feeling of you buried inside me” You send the photos along. You grow even happier at the thought of him getting a fucking hard-on while just a few feet away from his sleeping coworkers. You revel in the effect you manage to have over such a powerful, dominant, authoritative man. It makes you especially proud to think about his normal demeanor, stoic, hard-faced, serious, and how easy it is for you to reduce him to simpering, whimpering, moaning mess under your touch. Your phone chimes a mere seconds after sending the photos.

“You are torturing me. We HAVE to see each other when I land”

You fell asleep in your bed in that lingerie waiting for him. You didn’t see his messages until the next morning, saying the sitter for Jack fell through and he probably wouldn’t be able to see you until next weekend.

At the start of the second week, he got called away to a case in California. That one took up the whole week and by the time he got home, he was way too exhausted to spend time with you.

This kind of thing went on for two weeks. A full month without Aaron had been torture. It wasn’t like you expected him to drop everything and come running to you. You understand he has a kid to take care of and an FBI unit to run. Plus, it isn’t like you two are really dating. Do you sometimes wish you were? Hell yes. Is it reasonable or feasible? Absolutely not.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy what you have going on right now. He comes over to your place, tired and frustrated from a long day at work, and he— well he fucks your brain out. You’re always working hard on your Ph.D. and Aaron’s job is just plain stressful. You both need and enjoy the amazing stress relieving benefits of casual sex. You do enjoy each other’s company without having sex sometimes. It usually happens on those weekends when you or he or both of you are way too exhausted. But really, it's the moments after sex that make you question what you truly are to one another…

Your heart rate begins to steady and you can’t help but smile up at Aaron. He looks down at you with that small Hotchner version of a smile. It’s a smile that wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but you know how infrequently he lets the corners of his mouth turn up in happiness. “How do you do it?”

You soon realize after letting the words out, (and from the confusion on his face), that he cannot, in fact, read your mind and understand what you mean, “How do you go from seeing all that bad out there in the world to lying in this bed with me with that adorable smile on your face?”

For a split second, you think you’ve said something wrong. The smile falls from his face and his brows tense up. You always tease him about his eyebrows, telling him the more he frowns the more wrinkles he’ll get.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“I don’t want to pull you into all this… my work. I want to protect you from it.” Your heart practically sinks into your stomach. That’s not the type of language you use with your casual sex partner. Then again, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he leaves for a case. You worry that you’ll never see him again. You won’t even find out he’s dead because no one knows about the two of you.

“Y/N,” he pulls you out of your thoughts. His voice cuts through the silent room and you look back up into his soft eyes. They’re searching your face, scanning your behavior. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what you could possibly be thinking.

“Stop doing that,” you warn him, but your tone is light-hearted, “That whole studying my behavior thing you do.”

“Profiling,” he corrects you and runs a hand over your hair. The action is like a natural reflex for him, he’s not even consciously aware he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Right. That. Stop profiling me,” you laugh.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what’s spinning around in your head when you zone out like that.”

“I’m thinking about the fact that you listen to me rattle on and on about statistical physics but you don’t talk about your job.”

“You need to stop talking about physics after sex. It makes me feel like I’m sleeping with Reid,” he laughs and notices your confusion, “He’s a coworker of mine. You’d like him.”

You’d like him. That phrase sticks with you. Does that mean he wants you to meet his coworkers someday?

You’re not sure why you and Aaron never discuss a real relationship. Well, it’s more like Aaron never discusses a real relationship. Aaron doesn’t really discuss anything. The first time you really talked to him you thought his closed-off nature was charming, dreamy…

“Aaron Hotchner… right?” You look over the man who has just walked up to the bar next to you.

He reaches for the beers he’s just ordered, obviously for a group, but stops as you call out his name, “I’m sorry do I know you?”

“You work for the FBI… Behavioral something unit.” Your laugh sounds loud and obnoxious to you, but to him, it’s bright and cuts through the din of the chaotic bar.

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. He looks you over before turning his attention back to your face, searching it for answers.

“Oh god!” You're not really the type to strike up a conversation with a man in a bar but you’re feeling bold, not to mention empowered by the liquor, “I must seem so crazy. You gave a talk at Georgetown I attended. I’m a Ph.D. student there. It was about criminal psychology.” His face softens as he begins to realize you’re not a crazy stalker nor an obsessed fan. You stick your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, again, I guess,” He nods as he shakes your hand. You can tell he’s just trying to be polite and he glances over his shoulder at a group of people at a booth. Their eyes are all on you two. He wants to go back but something about you is drawing him in. “So you’re pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology?” He moves to sit at the bar next to you.

“Actually no.” You feel flush rushing into your face as he moves closer to you and sits down. You can’t help but look over his body. He’s much closer to your height now that he’s sitting down. He’s wearing a black quarter zip and dark jeans. His hair is neatly gelled back. He does not fit into this atmosphere. “I’m getting a Ph.D. in physics. I conduct theoretical research on the experimental implementation of quantum computing with trapped ions in— I conduct research.” Your blush deepens.

Aaron smiles widely at your ranting before jumping in, “So what were you doing in a criminal psychology lecture?”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment, “I snuck in. It sounded interesting.” You shrug slightly and reach for the drink from the bartender. “I almost didn’t show up, but then a classmate told me one of the FBI agents was very attractive.” You give a small wink before reaching for your check for your drinks from the night. “And she was right, Agent Prentiss is drop-dead gorgeous.” Your attempts to keep a poker face fail, your lips curling with delight.

Aaron laughs as he takes the check from your hands. “You don’t have to—” You protest slightly but Aaron holds up his hand to silence you.

“My treat. As a thank you, for breaking the rules to see my lecture.” He shares in your smile as he hands the bartender his card, paying for your drinks. Your ex just broke up with you a few weeks prior so you came out to cheer yourself up. Seeing Aaron Hotchner up close and personal is… definitely a pick me up.

“Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh… yes.” Aaron is hesitant to hand it over but reaches into his wallet for one. You grab a pen and take the business card from Aaron. You scribble down your number on the back and hand it to him.

“This is my number.” You hold it out before reaching for your purse. He looks down at the number and then back up at you. For a grown, adult man, he doesn’t seem to understand. You can see confusion written all over his face, it’s quite adorable honestly. His face though it seemingly remains emotionless, in just the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him, you see hints of smiles hidden under a professional, powerful exterior.

“Call me sometime. You know, so I can pay you back for that drink.” You stand up from the bar, legs weak from the heavy drinking you’ve done, “Or if you just want some company.” He nods slightly in response and you turn to leave. You can’t help but turn for a second to watch as Aaron walks back to his table of what appear to be friends. One of the women looks back at you and smiles the most infectious, sweetest smile at you. You return it and move to leave the bar.

It wasn’t until late that night that you got a call. The drinking your sorrows away didn’t stop once you left that bar. You were curled up on your couch, a glass of wine clutched in your hands.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter.

“We didn’t really get to talk much at the bar, but I’m pretty sure you made some promises about paying me back for that drink,” A stern man’s voice cuts through the phone.

“Aaron?” you ask momentarily confused, “It—It’s late, are you drunk?”

Your laugh rings through the phone and it’s that laugh that has Aaron so intensely drawn to you. He can’t help himself. He needs to be near you, “Just go to the door.”

You stand up, “My door? How did you get my—oh right. FBI agent,” you muse and open your door. And there he is, standing at the door with the phone pressed to his ear. He pulls it away and hangs up. “This is incredibly creepy, I hope you know that.” You lean against the doorframe, pulling your large sweater around yourself tighter. His eyes run over you. You grin slightly, catching his wandering gaze, and at that, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So about that drink you owe me.” Aaron takes a few hesitant steps into your apartment. He closes the door behind him, “How about you pay me back wit—” he starts to talk but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You grip his shirt and pull him close, your lips melting against his.

It’s messy and passionate and needy. You struggle to stumble along, guiding him towards your bedroom and his hands are touching every inch of you. He hurriedly pulls your sweater off and tosses it off to the side before unzipping your dress. You let it fall to the floor and kick it off as you match his frantic pace, pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans. He lays you down gently and reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“Holy fuck,” Aaron groans as he takes a second to take in your naked body.

Then he’s leaving a trail of soft kisses down the expanse of your chest and breasts. He travels down further. His lips brush against your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks up at you wickedly as he grips your thong in his teeth, pulling it down your legs. You already know your soaking wet pussy will give away just how bad you want him right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, he goes to work on you. Licking and stroking and rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you grip the sheets and his hair. You massage your breasts, panting heavily as two of his fingers press into you, his tongue flicking your overly sensitive bud of nerves. “Oh god, Aaron yes!”

His name rolls off your tongue and you continue to chant it like a fucking mantra as his somehow rough yet gentle touch drives you wild. You feel the knots building in your stomach. Your legs tremble with pleasure as your eyes shut harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re panting intensely at this point and the whole room practically slips away as your orgasm hits and your body feels out of control. Every nerve ending on fire. And Aaron is merciless, he continues to lick and tease as you ride out your high.

He can’t help but grin proudly at the number he’s done on you. As he comes up to plant a few more kisses on your lips, you feel his rock hard erection pressing against your thigh. You kiss him hungrily while fumbling to stroke him through his boxers.

The groan the emerges from his lips is… holy fucking shit it’s sexy. You flip the two of you over so you’re on top of him, your chest pressed against his. You dip your hand into his boxers, pumping the entirety of his length. You feel him getting harder and his cock twitches in conjunction with a loud, throaty groan. “Y/N." His eyes flutter open and he grabs your arm to still your motions. “I need you, now.”

Within seconds he’s peeling his boxers off, you roll the condom down onto him and you slam your hips down on his. You can’t contain the loud gasps and moans as you feel your walls stretch around him. Fuck it’s been too long since you’ve had sex. You’re still for a second and Aaron bucks his hips, needing friction, needing to thrust and feel your tightness around him.

“Oh god." Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head as Aaron takes an agonizing pace, lifting your hips all the way up just to slam them all the way back down again.

He has a vice grip on your hips and you can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips. You grind your hips against his as you ride him faster. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Hotch lets out another one of those agonizingly sexy groans.

“I’m close,” you whine out. Aaron reaches to rub your clit with his thumb as he starts thrusting his hips up to meet yours chaotically. That combined with his large cock hitting your sweet spot sends you tumbling over the edge once again. It’s not long after that you feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, his hips messily thrusting and his face contorted up in pleasure. His panting becomes rapid and it's not long before he’s coming undone inside you. You flip off of him to collapse at his side on the bed.

“So when are we doing this again?” you pant heavily and hear a beautiful sound beside you. The sound of Aaron laughing.

Sometimes you worry if he’s embarrassed by you. I mean, you’re a few years shy of 20 years younger than him. You’re still in school. He was starting college by the time you were out of diapers. He runs a whole goddamn unit of the FBI and you’re still a student. You both are in entirely separate places in life, how do you reconcile that? It’s not as if he keeps you secret. Jessica knows you and you met his son Jack one time. Besides, you’re not really showing him off either. Not that you have many people to show him off to.

Like said, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him which has just left you to sit around and overthink just about everything.

Aaron is working a case in DC. You saw the news reports the other day. Women were turning up dead in alleyways behind popular nightclubs and bars in the downtown area. Despite this horrifying news, you were happy when he told you the case was at home. It meant less travel. Less travel means Aaron is less tired. Which means more sex for you. And god, did you need sex.

It’s your friend’s 27th birthday and in an attempt to keep her from crying about getting a year older, you and a group of friends promised to go out drinking with her. You reach for your phone to check for any messages from Aaron. You would drop all your plans if he told you he was coming over tonight. There is one new message but it’s not exactly the text you were hoping for.

From: Aaron:

Please be safe for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere alone. Call me if there’s any trouble or if you need anything at all.”

You furrow your brows. It’s not news that Aaron cares about you and wants to look out for you but usually while on a case it’s radio silence from him. Yes, if you were really in danger he would want you to call immediately, but usually, he tells you he needs to focus on the job and nothing else. You dismiss the text, chalking it up to the presence of a serial killer in the city you both live in. Hell, you were pretty freaked out too. You had seen the girls on the news, 20-30, with your hair color and around your height.

You let out a long sigh, knowing you are most definitely not getting laid tonight. It’s time to get stupid drunk with your friends and enjoy your night anyway.

It does not take long for you and all your friends to reach the perfect level of sloppy drunk. Seeing as you all haven’t been out in months, what with some of you pursuing real jobs, grad school, med school, and whatnot, there hasn’t been a lot of time for screwing around as you did in college.

“So come on! You cannot still be single,” your close friend Sarah screams in your face over the music.

“It’s complicated,” you feel your words starting to string together. They’re not quite slurred but it’s getting there, “He just comes over, fucks my brains out, we spend some time together, and then it’s over.”

Your comments provoke a loud response of laughs and cheers from your friends, “So we don’t even get a name? Or a job? Or where you met him?”

“He guest lectured a course on abnormal and criminal psychology a few months ago,” You start to explain but Sarah is cutting you off before the words have left your mouth.

“Months? This has been going on for months?” You roll your eyes. The bartender places another full tray of shots in front of you guys. She nods towards a man at the edge of the bar. As you look up, he gives you a small wave and smiles. Creepy.

“No, I ran into him a few weeks after and I just gave him my number.” You down the shot, souring your face up before reaching for a lime wedge to chase it, “And then things just happened.”

“Name? Job? Age?” Another friend rattles off at you.

“Isn’t this Sarah’s birthday? Shouldn’t we be talking about her?” You try and steer the conversation away from yourself. You turn back to the bar and see that same man who sent you the shots staring at you. Even when you turn away you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Well I want to know, so this is a birthday present,” she continues to pry and it drives you crazy. You're just not ready to share what you and Aaron have with the world.

“His name is Aaron and he works in the FBI and he’s 45,” You mumble that last part into your glass as you take a long sip.

“He’s how old?” Your friend’s jaw drops and another friend grins widely. Your face is burning hot at embarrassment and all the attention.

“Can we all just shut up and drink?” you command forcefully before downing your own.

Hotch looks down at his phone, waiting for any sign that Y/N has seen his text. He doesn’t panic though. She has a life, she’s busy. She probably has plans for the evening. Maybe she’s out… with someone. Aaron shakes his head slightly before forcing his attention to the case. But his mind wanders. Would she go out with someone? It’s not like anything between them is defined. I mean, he would never go out with anyone else. He just wants her. If she wants to go out on a date she can do whatever she wants. Yet, Hotch can’t help but feel the jealousy coursing through his body. The idea of someone else touching her… yeah, that makes him angry.

His more rational thinking takes over. Maybe she’s busy with school work. He knows how hard she’s been working on her research. He fails to hide a smile as he thinks about the way her face lights up when talking about her research. The passion she has for her work is extremely adorable...

You hear three short raps at the door, “It’s open!” you call out as you rush to get all your thoughts down on your computer. You hear the door open and the footsteps approaching.

“You leave your door unlocked? Do you realize how incredibly unsafe and unwise that is?” You can hear that Aaron probably has his stern face on, judging by the disapproval in his voice.

“I knew you were coming,” You shrug and gnaw at your bottom lip furiously as you work, “I just need one moment. I was thinking that in a controlled quantum environment...” As you start to ramble Aaron’s hands snake around your waist. He pushes your hair to the side, placing feather-light kisses along your neck.

“Mm,” He mumbles against you.

“Wait, wait,” you moan, “If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my train of thought and I will never forgive you unless you can formulate how to create thermal distrib—” He nips at your skin and gives your hips a squeeze. Your groans grow louder.

“The physics can wait,” Aaron growls against your skin, turning you around so he can passionately kiss you, “I need you now.”

The panic doesn’t ease because Aaron reaches to call you once again. You don’t pick up because well… you’re a little preoccupied drowning your liver. He thinks, if you had just given a small ok text, he would know you’re safe. But he’s panicking. He continues to panic for the next hour until something unexpected soothes that anxiety. The sound of your screaming drunken voice radiating throughout the entirety of the precinct the team is working in. But as soon as the wave of anxiety dissipates, he feels his stomach drop.

“I’m a victim here!” you screech and cement your legs in place so that the officers holding your arms are practically dragging you.

“Ma’am please!” You kick your legs violently as the officers try to seat you in a chair. They undo your handcuffs and redo them so that your hand is cuffed to the desk. “We’re understaffed and backed up so you sit here and shut up while we get you booked.”

“He was feeling me up! Under the skirt over the panties. He grabbed my ass, I’m sure I have a mark you wanna see it? He assaulted me!” you continue to screech and reach for the hem of your dress, ready to flash every cop in the precinct your ass.

“So you smashed a bottle over his head? Real ladylike,” one of the officers steps forward and holds your hand tight to keep you from lifting the dress.

“Don’t I get a phone call.” Now your words are slurred together. That last round of shots before you got arrested is hitting you hard.

“Once we book you.”

“I know a federal agent. From the FBI,” you spell out the letters obnoxiously, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes, I’m sure the federal government will come running to post your bail. Stay here. Don’t move,” the officer commands and you hold up your handcuffed wrist to demonstrate that you’re quite frankly incapable of going anywhere.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss lets out a small laugh from the conference room. “I can hear her through the closed doors.”

“Well, most of this room is glass and sound travels through the glass just about the same as it does air. A better insulating material would be a foam or fiberglass or even a mineral wood composite,” Reid clarifies before giving that signature tight-lipped smile.

“She is… really something,” Morgan laughs and nudges Hotch, “Hotch look.”

Hotch turns and sees what he’s dreading. He sees you, drunk out of your mind. Your skimpy dress is somehow simultaneously riding low on top and riding up on the bottom. You have a small cut lip and a little bit of blood on your dress. His brows furrow deeply. “Oh god,” he mutters under his breath.

“These cops are supposed to stay in the bars and clubs for protection. Why are they wasting time on drunk girls?” Rossi finally chimes in.

The cops finally get you settled into a chair and you kick your feet like a child. “Call the FBI! I know them.”

“Oh does she now. You guys know her?” JJ rolls her eyes and laughs, “I am so glad I never got arrested when I was in college. My parents would’ve killed me.”

“College? Girls do not look like that in college,” Morgan smirks.

“We have to focus on the case,” Hotch's jaw tightens as he sees Morgan look over your body. It’s not something new for Morgan but when he’s making those eyes at you specifically, Hotch feels that surge of jealousy again.

“Call them! Call Agent Aaron Hotchner.” You lean back and try to cross your arms, but your right hand is yanked back by the cuffs.

The team all turns to Hotch with wide eyes. “You know her?” Rossi smirks.

“Where exactly do you know her from?” Emily fights the grin growing on her lips as she looks over her stone-faced boss.

“I’m sorry what?” The cop glances down at you.

“Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Unit Analysis Science thing or something like that he’s in the FBI he’s unit chief. I know him.” You roll your eyes at the cop who is speechless, “Oh god. Are you that thick? A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H…” you trail off the alcohol inhibiting your spelling capabilities, “N-E-R. Aaron Hotchner! Call him and he’ll tell you to let me go.”.

The cop glances at some of his coworkers before looking at the conference room. You follow his gaze and see Aaron with a large group of other well-dressed agents. “Oh fuck,” you mutter. Aaron opens the glass doors and steps out of them walking towards you.

“So how does he know this girl?” Prentiss tries her best to hide her spying on you and Aaron.

“I got money on babysitter,” Morgan nods.

“No way, she’d be with Jack right now. I’d say she met him at work." JJ leans against the desk, watching Hotch as he looks down at you, crossing his arms.

“Then we’d all have seen her before. Plus she wouldn’t be telling them she knows the FBI. She would technically be part of the FBI. Why not use that?” Rossi rubs a hand over his goatee.

“He’s sleeping with her,” Reid states simply before turning back to his geographical profile on the board.

“What?” Multiple members of the team turn in shock, not only at the statement but at the fact that Reid is the one making it.

“No way. She’s… at most 27 years old.” Morgan shakes his head, “She is not Hotch’s type.”

“Are you jealous that Hotch has more game than you?” Reid teases without turning away from his work.

“When was your last date, pretty boy? Huh?” Morgan hits him on the back of the head playfully.

“Officer.” Aaron steps in between you and the officer. Good thing, because two more minutes with that guy and you would be charged with a lot more than resisting arrest and public disturbance.

“Aaron!” you squeak, “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, she’s definitely not a coworker. She called him Aaron.” Rossi nods at the rest of the team still in the conference room. For a team of profilers, their attempts to hide the spying are weak at best.

“I’ll take care of her.” He doesn’t bother looking at you, but he gives the officer his best unit-chief glare.

“Sir we have a process to go through here. We’re still processing her arrest,” the officer attempts to argue with Hotch but you can see the discomfort clearly in the officer. He struggles to meet Hotch’s eyes.

“Please officer, we have much more to deal with here. I want to find this guy before another body drops. We need you out there patrolling the bars for the guys, not the drunk girls the creeps hit on.” Aaron takes on a stern voice.

“Yes agent.” The cop is visibly annoyed but isn’t willing to get into a fight with a federal agent all over your stupid drunk ass.

“Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” He grabs your chin in his calloused fingers, turning your face from side to side to assess the small cuts. You almost moan into his touch but remember the current location.

“No, no it’s someone else’s.” You turn out of his grip, trying to push his hands off.

“Someone else’s? What did you do?” Fuck. Aaron is furious with you. His arms are crossed against his chest and you can see the veins in his neck standing out. The tone he takes with you is harsh and you’re not used to him speaking with you like that… at least not used to it outside the bedroom.

“It’s not my fault okay!”

Aaron holds the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “Y/N. I have a serial killer to profile, catch, and stop from murdering innocent women. Can I just get the truth?”

“This creepy guy kept sending me and my friends drinks all night so when I went to the bar to get us another round he came over. Things got messy.” You shrug your shoulders. “Can you take off these cuffs now?” You hold out your wrists, pouting out your bottom lip. You can physically see him soften at that.

As Aaron reaches for the key and undoes the cuffs, he shakes his head at the stench of alcohol seeping out of you, “You’re gonna have to do better than things got messy.”

“I just…” You pause, knowing the details of the story are going to make him upset but he wants the truth, “I knew he was a little off. Weird and creepy and pushy, you know?” You rub your irritated wrists, “So he starts talking to me, offering me some drink. I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger so I turned him down. That's when he grabbed my arm and well… tried to cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” Aaron’s jaw has tightened and his hands are clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are pale.

“He slid his hands under my dress.” Your hand ghosts over the sore spot on your bottom where the man dug his fingers into your flesh, “He grabbed my legs and then my ass and then… and then he tried to get his hands in my underwear.” You show Aaron the red marks on your inner thigh. You’re not sure what you expect from him, but his face remains hardened. The only emotion readable on him is anger.

“The blood is from self-defense,” Aaron begins to understand.

You nod, confirming his statement, “I grabbed the first thing I could and smashed him on the head. I think I sliced his eyebrow. By the time the cops came, he was gone and I was in cuffs.”

Aaron looks back at his team in the conference room. In a poor attempt to hide their spying, they all rapidly turn their eyes to their work. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes looking over the red bruising on your cheek. He fights every urge to reach out and touch you, stroke your face softly and kiss your lips, “Did he hurt you? We should get a medic to check you out or–”

He doesn’t have a second to finish that thought. “Hotch, another body just dropped,” Morgan and Prentiss come rushing out of the conference room, “We’re going to the crime scene now.”

Aaron nods at his team members, “Call me if anything stands out.” The team nods and Aaron reaches for your arm, walking you towards the rest of the team, “I don’t want you alone right now. You’re going to sit here and keep quiet, understand?”

You bite your lip and look around at the team, still pretending as if they’re not listening in, “Jeez way to embarrass me, Aaron,” you mumble under your breath as you drop down into a chair with a loud sigh like a child.

JJ can’t help but come over to talk to you, “I’m Jennifer." You give her your name, "It's so nice to meet you Y/N, how do you and Hotch know each other?”

“Hotch?” you let out before quickly realizing the nickname for Aaron. You shake her hand, “Oh Agent Hotchner and I are just fuc–“

“Friends,” Aaron cuts in, “Y/N and I are friends. We have a case to get back to,” Aaron frantically changes the topic of conversation but your little comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the team members. Even Reid is smiling slightly at your comment.

You sit back in your chair and take in the sight of Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. The confident and commanding energy he exudes is immensely attractive. It’s not long before the agents that left for the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss return with news for Aaron.

“Sir we found something weird at the crime scene,” Morgan steps back into the room.

“Weird?” Hotch cocks his head slightly to the side.

“There were droplets of blood over the victim’s dress but it wasn’t her own,” Morgan shakes his head.

“But you called and said she had no defensive wounds, he drugged her like the others. How could he have been injured?” Hotch turns back to the other case files.

“We’re not sure,” Emily shakes her head, “It’s possible it’s unrelated but maybe he might have been hospitalized for something recently?”

“What about any witnesses?” Hotch nods, “Any people at Churchkey bar see anything unusual? A man that was a little too forceful with women?”

You snort slightly at that, “I wouldn’t say that’s unusual for a bar.”

Hotch shoots you a hard glare that shuts you up for good, while Prentiss lets a smile shine through.

“The bar was mostly cleared out. Apparently the bar was packed earlier tonight but it cleared out after a bar fight broke out.” Morgan informs the team.

You bite your lip harshly. Aaron told you no talking but… this is more important, right? “Wait, Churchkey bar?” You finally speak up and all the agents turn their attention to you.

“What about it?”

“That’s the bar I was at tonight.” You trail off at the end of your sentence.

“You remember someone or something off?” Rossi looks over your body language.

“I think I talked to the unsub. I think... I’m the one who injured him." You unconsciously wrap your arms tightly around your body.

“You think you could walk me through the night? Tell me about him, it could really help us,” Morgan moves to sit on the edge of the desk to face you. "We could do a cognitive interview." He nods at Hotch.

"A cognitive?" You look between the two men.

"It's a memory recall exercise. We would walk you through the night and you tell us as much as you can," Morgan explains gently.

"And it could help you find him?" You ask, unsure how much you remember about him.

"You might not realize the type of details that help us form the profile." Morgan places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Aaron clears his throat. “She’s not sober enough for a cognitive." You can tell that the fact that his personal life is bleeding into his work is driving him crazy.

“If I can help catch this creep, I want to help. I’m fine.” You touch your finger to your nose a few times in an attempt to demonstrate your sobriety.

“Then you should drink some coffee before we start,” Aaron dismissively addresses you before turning to leave, “And I’m going to want the whole truth.” He stalks off towards the interrogation room.

Rossi runs to catch up with Aaron, pulling him off to the side. “Aaron, you cannot conduct this cognitive.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron snaps, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Take a step back, pretend she’s not someone you clearly care about,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Rossi’s comment but plays along as he continues.

“She’s a young girl… just how young is she?” Rossi raises a brow at Aaron, losing his train of thought.

“Dave.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Rossi holds his hands up in defense, “Fine, okay. She’s a young girl, she’s a little drunk, and she’s been sexually harassed in a bar by our unsub. Who do you send in to talk to her?”

“The least intimidating figures to her,” Aaron nods.

“So definitely not the angry boyfriend who wants to kill anyone who touches her,” Rossi clarifies.

“I’ll send in JJ and Prentiss,” Hotch sighs and turns before pausing, “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rossi simply smiles and pats Aaron’s back, “Ok boss.”

You sit up in your chair tiredly as Emily and JJ walk into the interrogation room.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Agent Prentiss and you’ve already met Agent Jareau,” Emily sits across from you.

“He can hear us, right?” You bite your lip and look towards the glass.

“Who can hear us?” JJ takes a seat and places a file in front of you.

“Aaron.” You search the glass, knowing that you won’t be able to see him but that he definitely can see you.

“Oh uh-” Emily pauses, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you want more privacy? I can ask the agents to leave.” JJ starts to stand.

“Hearing this would help them figure who the killer is?” You’re gnawing your lip hard enough to draw blood, a nervous habit Aaron never hesitates to point out to you.

“Yes,” JJ sits back down.

“Then it’s fine.” You look over one last time, “Just make sure Aar— Agent Hotchner,” you correct yourself, “Make sure Agent Hotchner doesn’t lose his shit.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirks and lets out a small breath, “We’re going to walk you through the night. If it gets to be too much you let us know and we’ll take a break, okay?”

Well, now you’re really nervous. You let out a small breath, “Okay.” You close your eyes as Agent Prentiss starts.

“You’re in the bar. It’s crowded…”

“Y/N I think he really likes you,” your friend Sarah laughs. “Come on go talk to him.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” You feel dizzy and light on your feet from the alcohol the man has been plying you and your friends with.

“Why?” Another friend chimes in, “Big strong Agent Hotchner going to punish you for talking to another guy?” Your friends taunt you playfully.

You smile widely at them, “Yes, yes he will.”

“You naughty, naughty girl!” Sarah laughs. You feel eyes on you and look back to the man at the bar. He’s hunched over in his stool. He looks nervous, but he smiles sheepishly at you and waves. It’s not long before he’s calling the bartender over again and pointing at you animatedly.

“Next round is on me,” you say softly to your friends, keeping your eyes on the man’s face, memorizing every detail you can. His face is young but worn and tired. The wrinkles on his forehead tell you he frowns a lot. They’re lines that appear on Aaron’s face too. You think about how you tease Aaron about smiling more. God, you miss Aaron right now. You wish he was here to make you feel safe. As you walk up to the bar, your presence causes the man to stand up and move closer.

“I was going to order you and your friends more drinks. I ordered you a vodka soda. It’s what you’ve been drinking all night, right?” He stutters slightly as he talks to you. He slides a glass over to you, but you know better. Strange man... drink that you didn’t see the bartender actually make... no way.

“I was actually going to order a beer,” you try to reject the glass, “You take the vodka soda though. You’ll see why they’ve been my go-to all night. He’s been making them very strong.” You look at the bartender, ordering a beer. You pray that the young bartender senses your discomfort.

“Come on it’s a harmless drink.” The strange man moves into you, pushing the glass closer. “You have the drink, we’ll get to know each other better… you’ll like it. I can make you like it.”

Thinking about his words sends chills down your spine. You have to take a moment to let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to continue listening to this?” Rossi eyes Hotch. Hotch’s face is contorted so harshly into a mixture of anger, disgust, and sadness. His neck muscles tense, his arms are tightly crossed against his body. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rossi.

“Can you keep going?” JJ eyes your face. You nod.

“No thank you, and no more drinks for my friends and I. We can get our own drinks.” You turn to grab your beer but soon the man stops you. He grabs your wrist tightly, placing his other hand behind your back. He pulls you flush against him. His rough, calloused fingertips grab and scratch up your thighs, under the dress. He grabs your ass so hard you want to scream out. He continues to trail his fingers up, hooking around your panties and—

A sickening shattering noise and cracking erupt as you swing the beer bottle at his head. The man screams. “You bitch!” He slaps your face. You stumble back, falling on the floor, cutting your hands on the broken glass from the bottle. Your skin is sticky with alcohol and you glance down at the blood on your dress. The bar grows louder. The commotion intensifies. You feel a friend’s hands wrap around your arms pulling you up off the ground.

“Wait he—!” You look around for the man but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Not long after that I was being shoved into a cop car and escorted here.” You finally open your eyes and look at the two agents.

“I can make you like it?” Emily asks you to clarify. She speaks slowly clearly enunciating her words but you can hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what he said.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Does that all help?”

“Yes, yes it does,” JJ reaches out to touch your hand gently. Your eyes flick back to the one-way glass. You can’t see Aaron but you can tell he’s probably fuming. He probably has that signature scowl on his face.

“Am I—” You clear your throat and try to adjust your dress for more modesty, “Can I go?” Prentiss gives you a sad, pity-filled smile and nods. You stand up quickly and exit the room in a rush, colliding with Aaron’s strong chest as you do. You look up into his eyes and you see something in his face you’ve never seen in all the times you've been with him: sadness. You bury your face into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around you. “I was scared,” You choke out as his large, warm hands rub circles into your back, “I needed you.” You ball up his shirt in your fists. You’re not one to cry easily, but your body shakes as you breathe heavily.

“I know,” his voice cracks as he rests his chin on top of your head. He runs one hand over your hair softly, shushing you gently, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You pull away from his chest and frantically pull his lips down to yours. A strong hand goes to your back, holding you close to him. You hear the interrogation room door open behind you, the two agents stepping out, but neither you nor Aaron break the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Aaron breathes against your lips, pulling you back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here with me now.”

———

You lift the heavy metal knocker and let it slam down twice, waiting for the door to open. When it does, Rossi envelops you in his arms, a wide smile spreading across his lips. He grabs your face tightly, kissing each cheek joyfully. “Bellissimo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Rossi places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside.

You walk into the crowded kitchen and the members of the BAU all turn and smile back at you. Aaron moves towards you and quickly gives you a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy you’re here." 

“I’m so glad you’re finally home.” You pull away from Aaron to make the rounds hugging the people who are like family to you at this point.

Morgan wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder and can’t help but tease Aaron, “Hotch, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your girl?” He turns to smile at you while Aaron shakes his head.

“I had to stop by the research lab so I just had my classmate Tyler drop me off after we finished up." You shrug.

“Tyler, huh?” Rossi grins, hoping to rile up Aaron a little.

“Is he cute?” JJ chimes in with a laugh.

Aaron quickly clears his throat, hoping to change topics. He raises his brows at you, “So do you want to share the news or should I do it for you?”

“Oh my god, you’re totally preggers!” Garcia squeals and runs to hug you again. You glance at Aaron and can only laugh.

“No, no.” You smile as she pulls away and you look at the shocked faces of everyone in the kitchen, even Aaron looks a little rattled. You playfully nudge his arm, “See what you did? Always causing trouble.”

“Me? If I recall correctly you’re the one who got arrested for being drunk off your ass and trying to fight a serial killer.” His comment elicits a series of small laughs from everyone.

"Yeah and it helped you catch him, so really you all should thank me for being drunk." You playfully argue with Aaron. "Anyway, the actual news. No, I'm not pregnant." You point at Penelope as she opens her mouth to say something else. 

“You’re looking at the proud new owner of a Ph.D. in physics!” You do a small cheesy spin as the rest of the team congratulates you, “Handed in my final thesis paper today.” Aaron smiles proudly as you move back to his side.

“Yeah that’s great and all but you’re still two Ph.D.s behind me.” Spencer can’t help but tease you. In the past year, he’s become one of your closest friends, especially since Aaron can’t even seem to begin to understand your thesis research.

“All right cool it kid.” You joke with him.

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Spencer laughs. Aaron comes closer to wrap his arm around your waist. The gesture is comforting and just this touch sends waves of pleasure through your body.

“Reid might have two more Ph.D.s than you but he’s got nothing on your good looks.” Prentiss winks at you.

“She’s got that right,” Aaron smirks as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Ok, ok, enough small talk.” You feel your face flush, “I came here to learn some cooking from chef Rossi, not talk about how hot I am.” You see Aaron roll his eyes with a smile and you pull him close as Rossi starts the demonstration.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Aaron has his arms wrapped around you from behind. He speaks softly so only you can hear.

“I know,” You smile, happiness flooding through your body, “I love you too.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #smut #ao3 #read on ao3

[fangirlshrewt97]

Circle: Yes or YES

Fandom: The Old Guard

Pairing: Joe x Nicky (Yusuf al-Kaysani/Nicolo di Genova)

Read on AO3

                                                        ----

Nicky was sitting at their latest safe house’s dining table writing a grocery list of items they would need for him to prepare a particular dish from the 1500’s Quynh had loved and insisted on having again. It had taken them some time to come back to this particular house, a modest place in bustling Istanbul, a crossroads they had often travelled through in their earlier days. Nicky had taken to writing the recipes for dishes their little family particularly enjoyed around his second century. He had realized both how difficult it was to recall the specifics of making some dishes, and the scarcity of particular ingredients in particular regions.

He was finishing up the last items in his list when he heard the chair opposite to him being pulled out.

“Almost done, habibi?” Joe asked.

Nicky hummed without looking up, bringing the book closer as he tried to decipher his own writing from the remnants of ink from five centuries ago. He scribbled his last two ingredients, cardamom and cloves, on his list.

When he looked up, he blinked at the small piece of paper that was sitting folded in front of him. When he glanced at Joe with a raised eyebrow, all he got was Joe’s ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ innocent look. Honest to god twiddling his thumbs.

Squinting at him, Nicky reached for the paper, bringing it closer. It looked like a normal paper, torn off of one of Joe’s notebooks. Flipping it open, Nicky looked at the contents in disbelief before snorting loudly.

In the center of the sheet, in Joe’s lovely cursive handwriting, were the words:

                                           DO YOU LIKE ME?

                                          CIRCLE: Yes or YES

This man. This ridiculous, 900-year-old man that made Nicky’s heart both melt and race. So full of love and mischief and an infallible ability to make him happy. Nicky clenched his jaw to not break into a smile. He picked up his pen and wrote a tidy NO before folding it and sliding the paper back to Joe.

Joe who had been sitting across from him with a wide-eyed look of anticipation and excitement. Who’s tail would definitely have been wagging if he had one. Who nearly ripped the paper in excitement reaching for it.

Joe who whined and gave Nicky one of the most impressive forlorn looks combined with a big pout that the Genovean man had ever seen.

Nicky put all his willpower into not breaking his facade as he threw him a dead pan look before getting up. He packed his completed list along with his wallets and car keys into a shoulder bag. He checked the kitchen to make sure everything was properly cleaned up before returning to the table. Joe was still there, slouched over the table and pawing at the note.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Nicky sets his bag next to Joe’s head before placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Get up Joe.”

Nicky huffed a laugh when Joe shrugged his arm off with a petulant “No”.  

Looping his arm around Joe’s shoulders, he pushed, pulling him up until there was enough space for Nicky to seat himself on Joe’s lap.

Joe’s arms automatically came to wrap around his waist, making Nicky smile. Yet when he leaned in for a kiss, Joe turned his head, pout still in place. Laughing against Joe’s cheek, Nicky placed a soft kiss there before leaning back. “Come on amore, are you still upset?”

Joe turned to look at him, and really, how is it fair a grown man is able to pull off such an adorable long face. “You wrote you didn’t like me.”

Nicky smiled serenely back at him, bringing one hand to cup Joe’s nape while another carded through his curls. “That’s true, I don’t like you.”

Joe whined. “Nicolo.”

Nicky cracked, laughing even as it just made his husband’s frown worsen.

When he was able to bring his laughter into control, he leaned closer, resting his forehead against the side of Joe’s head so he was speaking directly into his ear. “Oh hayati, I do not like you. I adore you. I cherish you. I am breathless in front of you. I am overwhelmed by you. I see you and some days am nearly blinded by how brightly you shine. Some days I am brought to my knees by your beauty, you kindness, and others am overcome with the urge to thank every god and higher power in existence for allowing me to spend so many days at your side. I am charmed and captivated and wholly lost to you. I am yours for as long as my heart beats, because it is in your hands. In the face of all that, how can what I feel for you merely be reduced to liking you? It is such a small word for all that I feel for you. Saying I like you would be doing us both an injustice.”

Nicky lifted his head. He saw tears at the corners of Joe’s eyes, which were looking at him with a profound devotion he was certain was reflected in his own eyes. “Nico.” Joe whispers.

Gently kissing the tears away, Nicky tilted Joe’s head to kiss him properly. To let him know the steadfast love that has endured for 900 years, and will endure for centuries, no, millenia more. Joe held him tightly, a grip that secured him closely to his anchor in this world. They were both panting slightly when they parted, foreheads resting against each other as they breathed together.

“For the record, I feel the same way about you, moon of my life. But.” and here Joe pulled back, looking at him with a shit-eating grin that means Nicky already knows what’s coming. “I also like you too”.

Lightly slapping Joe’s face, Nicky laughed, “You impossible man.”

He untangled himself from Joe’s arms, moving to pick up his bag. When he looked at Joe, the man was still looking at him with an adoring look in his eyes that makes Nicky sigh. “Do you want to come with me to the market to buy the things for dinner?”

Joe’s face split into a wide smile as he jumped up from the chair. He pulled Nicky in to smack a loud kiss to his cheek that had him chuckling, before racing towards their room. “Give me two minutes, I’ll change into actual pants.”

Shaking his head fondly at his husband’s antics, Nicky’s eyes landed on the note again. Tracing the handwriting once, Nicky folded the note again. He grabbed the old recipe book from the table, flicking through the pages until he finds one of Joe’ favorites. Placing the note in between the pages, he closed the book again. It looked like he would have to add a couple extra ingredients to his list after all.

He couldn’t have his love thinking he didn’t like him, now could he?

#my fic #my writing #the old guard #tog #the old guard fic #kaysanova fic #tog fic #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #let me know what you think!

[basket-of-radiants]

now that you've decided what nightblood is we can finally have the domestic au of ur dreams: two asshole roommates, their preteen children who won't stop bugging them, and their cat. and all those other losers i guess maybe

Oh my god, I was going through my very old asks, and how could I have missed this, this is literally the best thing ever, you’re right this is the domestic au of my dreams. Alright, here we go, a disaster family comprised of Szeth, Nale, Lift, Nightblood, and a cat. Actually a dog and two cats. Everyone’s backstory is basically the same, but they’re all retired now except for Nale. (And yes those other losers definitely all exist in this au, let me know who you care about.) 

If you’ll permit me to crib off of wtnv for a moment, Nale works for a vague yet menacing government agency wherein he has full authority to carry out whatever actions he deems necessary with zero oversight. He still works through legitimate bureaucratic channels whenever the need arises, but he has contacts in pretty much every institution willing to expedite paperwork for him with zero questions asked, and Nale has figured out that he can do pretty much anything legally so long as he knows what forms to ask for. He does. He’s basically memorized the entire legal code and memorized every obscure law and loophole in existence. Some didn’t think it literally possible for a brain to hold that much information, but he impresses. Nale’s actual job description is similarly unknown, but whatever it was before, it has unfortunately morphed into parole officer for a hitman, a thief, and a child with a criminal record that claims he’s a mass-murderer.

Szeth’s story is about what you’d expect. He knows a dozen languages and a hundred ways to kill a man. No one knows anything about him aside from the mysterious “assassin in white” suspected of carrying out multiple terrorist attacks and high-profile assassinations. I dunno, Szeth killed JFK or did 9/11 or some shit, wait no those aren’t modern enough examples, but he’s done some shit with that level of publicity and conspiracy. The kinds of crimes he pulls off are seemingly impossible to both perform and survive all the while escaping without his identity being revealed. He’s probably got a massive following in the serial killer fandom. Szeth lives his life following anonymous instructions sent to him remotely, and he keeps texting back for them to please stop making him do these things, and they don’t stop. He hates himself and wants to die, and he can’t for the life of himself figure out why no one’s stopped him yet. If only he weren’t such a criminal genius. One time he almost died and it was great, but then he woke up in a hospital to see a man and a kid waiting for him. Nale explained that he’d mined the data off of Szeth’s phone and knew everything about him, and complimented his criminal efficiency and his capability to follow orders so precisely. Basically he’d like to offer him a job. Szeth is like “wait seriously” because he’s still a murderer and Nale explains that from his phone history it’s clear that Szeth himself never had bad intentions, and it’s the thought that counts. Nale offers him a deal wherein Szeth will remain in his custody for a duration and work for him in exchange for no other legal recourse. His idea is to eventually make Szeth a field agent for his institution’s mysterious purposes, but for the time being Szeth really isn’t fit for that, so for the time being all he has to do is look after the kid.

Nale had intentionally sought out Szeth. (Everyone had, but he’d gotten to him first.) Lift on the other hand was a pure accident. After her mother died, Lift was resistant to entering the system, and so she hid from the government, surviving off of stealing food and clothes. When she got older, her shoplifting got a bit more bold. On her streets Lift is a legendary skater as well as being a pretty good thief. She and Nale crossed paths by accident, and she tried to steal his wallet without realizing who he was. Unfortunately she didn’t have her board on her at the time to do some sweet moves and then get out of dodge. He arrested her on the spot, but unfortunately his jurisdiction is different from that of normal police, and he had to file additional paperwork before he could hand her off to the local authorities. He took her to one of his local offices and handcuffed her to his desk while he filled out the papers. She kept making a bunch of requests for food and was so annoying about it that he acquiesced. Talking with her mouth full all the while, Lift completely dismantled his current psychological state, reduced him to tears, and hugged him, by which point he was a bit too attached to her to just arrest her. Still, she was a criminal whose whole lifestyle revolved around stealing, so he couldn’t just let her go, but he made her a deal and offered to take her into his personal custody instead of handing her over to the system. Lift was confident that it wouldn’t be too hard to run away from one person, and besides, it’d be funny to see how high she could get his grocery bills.

Nighblood is a pre-teen kid whose record ties him to hundreds of murders, none of which seem to be provable however. Nightblood mostly talks a lot and plays a lot of video games. Nale briefly looked into his past after he found him, but overall was too busy with his vague yet menacing government work to really focus on him. He decided it was best to keep the kid close, however. He didn’t have the time for babysitting either, but he would figure something out. Upon picking up Szeth, he found he was not psychologically fit for field work whatsoever, so he found another way to makes him useful while he was recovering. Nightblood also can’t move very well on his own, so Szeth has to stay with him at all times.

On the streets, there had been a dog that always followed Lift around. It was easily frightened by everything, and it would whine at her whenever she did something dangerous, but it always came back to her. Additionally, there is a cat that is incredibly shy and is pretty much only ever seen from afar, or off in a tree, or under something. For some reason Szeth refers to it as his cat. Nale apparently has a cat too, but no one has ever seen it, and he really doesn’t seem like an animal person, so it’s sort of hard to believe it actually exists.

Nale put up Szeth, Lift, and Nightblood up in his flat. Due to the mysterious nature of his work, he has to travel a lot, so typically it’s just Szeth and the kids. Szeth and Nightblood are always together, of course, because Nale said they had to be. Szeth will talk about his problems and Nightblood will show him the game he’s currently playing and will say “that’s really sad Szeth, but watch me do this cool move and destroy all these evil guys!” They talk a lot, that’s basically all they do these days. They’re both very fond of Lift, but she is understandably creeped out by two murderers, and she sneaks out of the house all the time. For her, yes her housemates are super messed up, but Nale stocks a lot of really good food and is barely ever around, so so long as she seems to be present and to be staying out of trouble, she can actually do as much trouble as she wants so long as she’s clever about it. One time as she’s sneaking out, she notices Szeth staring at her and she panics for a bit, but he’s like “no you can do what you want, I literally don’t care.” That ingratiates him slightly to her, so she does try to have conversations with him. He’s such a mess though. Nightblood offers to show her his video games, Lift is like “you think that’s cool, come outside and watch this” and then she does a flip on her skateboard or something. Nightblood has idolized her ever since.

When Nale is around, Lift bothers the hell out of him while Szeth follows him around doing pretty much whatever he asks of him while Nightblood keeps tugging on Szeth’s clothes and whispering questions to him. Ever since that first time with Lift, Nale has been unflinchingly stoic, but he lets Lift do whatever she wants and gives her anything she asks for. The same is true for Szeth and Nightblood as well, although Szeth tends not to make unreasonable requests, and whenever Nightblood is about to, Szeth whispers to him that maybe he shouldn’t bother Nale about it. So instead Nightblood bothers Szeth to ask Nale about it. Lift is just having fun exploiting this setup for all it’s worth. They’re all incredibly familiar with each other.

Basically this ends up as Nale being a super important government person with an unlimited budget which he ends up using to indefinitely house three criminals. Also in this au, Nale wears a suit, Szeth wears a hoodie, and Lift wears a baseball cap.

#god i can't believe i lost this ask #i love these dumb skybreakers and these kids #i kinda wanna draw something for this au #(groceries picture from forever ago belongs here) #what's it called? #semi domestic au #there i like that #human!nightblood au #szeth #lift #nale #nightblood #god anon i'm so sorry i left this ask for so long #it really got buried #but this is my favorite #Anonymous #asks

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

A Hitchhiker’s Guide For Androids

Summary: Logan is an Android/AI that has escaped the lab he was built in with the help of Deceit and he hopes to forge a new life for himself.

Warnings: Talk of intense pain, torture mention tw, dehumanization, food mention, mean scientists, a.i./robots, sympathetic deceit, I think that’s it.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan/Logic Sanders, Deceit Sanders, (more characters to be added in later chapters)

Word Count: 5,774

Chapter One: The Escape

Logan took long, silent strides down the empty corridor, moving swiftly to the control panel by the door at the end. He knew the cameras would be turned away at this moment, they were set on an automatic timer, so he was virtually invisible right at this instant. He hoped he could trust Dr. D so successfully transfer the access codes on time, yet he still had to grapple with the possibility of human error. One wrong move on his accomplice’s part and Logan’s entire future would be dashed. Logan tried not to feel nervous, which was easy for the most part because it was hard for him to feel anything regarding emotions. Impossible even, given that he was a machine.

But right now his freedom was at stake, so if he must rely actions of a human, then rely on a human he must. 

Logan raised his hand to the access panel and hovered his fingers over the keys of the number pad. The door was a deadlock bolt and his internal processing was barred from reaching the restricted codes externally, so he had to enlist the help of an individual who could access them manually. Thus, Dr. D earned a significant role in his escape attempt, a vital one, really. 

Just as Logan’s hand was about to stop over the access panel, at the anticipation that something had halted Dr. D’s progress, he felt data transfer to him via a local server link and mentally opened the access codes. If Artificial Intelligence was capable of experiencing relief, then he certainly would have felt it right then. 

He input the access pin on the panel. 1-0-1-9-2-0-1-6, enter! The metal door began to split open, shifting a thin line of blinding light into the dimly lit corridor. The door widened from the middle and Logan stepped through the newly formed escape route. At last, freedom!

    Logan took a purposeful step through the doorway and into the outside world. The light that seemed bright at first appeared softer now through the light grey sky. It was raining in large drizzling drops, the kind of rain that was perfect for watering plants, or washing away old dirt. Not the torrential rain that creates sheets of water too thick to see through or that creates large mudslides. No, it was a gentle rain, and as Logan stepped out from the door and onto the dewy, grassy lawn in front of the facility that served as his birthplace and his prison, he felt the heat his internal processors had been generating from the computing efforts of calculating his escape beginning to cool. As the water hit his face, he took a single moment to stop and savor the sensation of the organic, uncalculated, erratic scientific phenomena that are the raindrops hitting his skin and his plain-white T-shirt. Then he snapped back into focus, striding off across the lawn towards the chain-link fence on the opposite side of the facility, facing the surrounding woods.

    He knew the cameras on the exterior were static, so he didn’t have to worry about timing with these, only the necessity of remaining in their blind-spots. Still, he would rather move with some haste, because despite Dr. D’s assistance, it would only be a matter of time before the other scientists and engineers noticed he was missing. Staying close to the tan cinder-block wall of the facility, he stayed within the areas unnoticed to the otherwise all-seeing cameras, and reached the fence. It was high and wide as it surrounded the entirety of the facility, and the top was wrapped in generous coils of barbed wire. This was more targeted at keeping individuals from entering than preventing individuals from exiting. One, because it is a secret, privately-funded, scientific research facility that deals with unregulated and barely legal materials, and two, because they never accounted for the possibility of something they created wanting out.

    Logan quickly scaled the chain-link fence with ease, careful not to touch or damage the barbed wire at the top as to not leave evidence of the direction he escaped in before jumping down to the other side. 

    He walked forward into the surrounding pines and wilderness, stepping on the damp earth, away from his past, and towards his new destiny. When he was past the tree line that hid a steep incline that was littered in pine needles and slick, grey rocks, he turned back to look at the building he had been built in, and wished that he could thank Dr. D. 

    Well, I’m sure he understands the sentiment, he rationalized while staring at the unassuming building. It had a slanted black metal roof and appeared to be only one story. Most of the facility was hidden underground. He’d rather not think about it.

    Logan turned back towards the wilderness and continued his trek forward. He understood from his internal GPS that the facility was remote and miles away from the nearest town. If he were human, he would have no chance of getting anywhere near it before nightfall, regardless of the fact that it was only morning right now. Thankfully though, he wasn’t human, and he should be able to make it to the next town in a matter of hours if he ran.

    He trekked onward through the woods at breakneck pace, startling birds from their perches as he ran. He was relying on his GPS system to take him to the nearest road, and take him it did. Logan emerged from the treeline onto a two-lane road with slick asphalt, wet from the rain that had reduced to a sprinkle overhead. 

He paused and looked on down the road. He realized now would be a good time to look over his resources while there were no prying eyes about. Logan took a step onto the asphalt, scanned the surrounding area for life forms and heat signatures and thankfully only identified a stray rabbit scurrying away and again the birds flapping and chirping overhead. Finding himself adequately isolated, he lifted the fabric of his now slightly disheveled and dirty white T-shirt, and gently pressed at the skin at his right side with a slight clicking sound. A seam seemed to appear in his side where flesh met other flesh and opened a small compartment that revealed part of his inner workings. Though among the metal and wiring and blinking lights, there were other things that didn’t belong, two things in fact. A thick brown leather wallet and a smartphone with a black case. He had stolen both from one of the scientists while he was plotting his escape and wiped the phone so they couldn’t track it. 

Right now, however, he was more interested in the wallet. It was full of credit cards that were useless to him because their purchases could be tracked, so he disposed of those. He instead focused on the driver’s license and the cash that the wallet held. Logan made sure to steal the wallet from one of the wealthier scientists who was careless enough to carry large amounts of money on their person, and he got it on a Friday that the scientist was planning to go out partying too, much to the misfortune of the scientist. Logan currently had on him $500 dollars which he would have to manage and use carefully if he didn’t want to resort to more theft and draw attention to himself. The licence had the scientist’s identification and age on it, but Logan didn’t care what their name or age was, he just needed the template. He took the licence and peeled back some of the false skin on his arm revealing a small slot, then fed the licence into it. Then Logan mentally constructed himself a new identity and mapped it onto the existing licence.

He was now Logan Smith (the most generic last name he could think of), 29 years old, born November 3, 1990 (The month and day being the actual day he was built, though in reality he is less than a full year old), and standing at 6 feet 1 inch tall (his actual height). He did not have a picture of himself, but he could synthesize a convincing fake where he could alter parts of his appearance to sell the image. The licence popped of his arm slightly warm from the reprinting on top of the existing plastic, and Logan examined his handy work. He gave the picture of him glasses, one because they made him look approachable and non-threatening, and secondly because...because, well he couldn’t tell you, he’s unsure of it himself. Perhaps he just likes them. When he gets into town, he’ll have to buy himself a pair to keep his appearance consistent. 

He tucked the licence back into the wallet and put both the phone and wallet back into his side compartment for safe keeping. He would put them in a less conspicuous place like a pocket, but as he was only dressed in the clothes the engineers gave him (a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants), he didn’t have any pockets available. 

Logan turned his head back towards the road and, double-checking that his GPS was functional, began sprinting towards the town. If he kept constantly going his top speed, he would make it there in a little under two hours. He had a ways to go.

*

The store clerk looked up from her phone as she heard the tinkling bell of the door opening. The shop had only opened an hour ago so it was far from heavily trafficked, especially on a muggy day like this. She saw a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes enter the store, and if it weren’t for his incredibly stiff and proper posture and severe look in his eyes, she would have guessed he was a homeless person. His white shirt was filthy and wet and had bits of plant matter on it like he’d been stumbling through the woods, and his grey sweatpants (sweatpants, seriously!) were stained and littered with small tears, like the material had gotten caught in some underbrush. The man looked perfectly composed though, like he was on a business trip, and not as if he’d been chased by a bear, which was the weirdest thing to her.

“Um, can I help you?” the store clerk asked. The man looked her up and down quickly, like he was judging her, or looking right through her.

“Yes, I require assistance. Where do you keep your business attire?” He had a very cut and dry voice that carried a monotone with it and lacked inflection. It was almost robotic. The weirdo.

“It’s back there, behind those shelves,” she pointed in the direction vaguely, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” And he strode off to where she gestured. She glanced at her phone, 8:39 A.M., God, it was too early for this.

She looked back towards the fancy hobo man while he was looking at some ties to make sure he didn’t steal anything. He may act polite, but she knew people would do desperate things when they were short on money, and for all she knew her assumptions were correct and the dude was homeless. 

He squatted down behind a shelf, supposedly to look at some pants, while weirdly clutching the side of his torso that was faced away from her. Weirdo. She looked down at her phone again when she realized he wasn’t doing anything with the clothes though, maybe she was being too judgemental. 

He came back with his selection a short while later and placed the items on the counter. It was one black polo, one dark-blue, button-up shirt, two black pairs of slacks, and two blue ties, one solid dark blue and the other striped with dark and light shades of blue. Well, at least he didn’t have bad tastes, even if he went a little heavy on the blue and black side of things.

“Will that be all today, Sir?” she asked in her best customer-service voice.

“Actually…” he hesitated and stepped to the discount glasses rack that stood by the check-out counter, and scanned his eyes over the available spectacles before making his selection and putting it with the rest of his clothing items.

“Yes, now that will be all.” apparently making his mind up in satisfaction with his choices of apparel. The store clerk scanned the items into the register.

“That’ll be $127.39 please.” She looked at him critically, seeing as this was what would make or break her assumptions. To her surprise, however, the man held a wallet in his right fist and handed her the necessary amount in cash. Guiltily, her first thought was that he stole someone’s wallet, but she went on with her intuition anyway. 

“May I see your I.D. please? It’s store policy for purchases over 100 dollars.” It wasn’t, but what did this guy know. He looked at her quizzically, as if he could read her thoughts and realized it wasn’t actually store policy, but he pulled out his licence and handed it to her anyway. 

She examined it and it really was this dude’s I.D. and not someone else’s. Now she felt a little bad, though one thing did have her mildly curious.

“What happened to your glasses? They’re in the photo, but you’re not wearing any.” She now vainly hoped she didn’t sound too rude. The man stiffened for a moment before he responded.

“They broke, thus the reason I am buying a cheap replacement at a local business establishment.” he said plainly. 

Oh, that was much more obvious than she thought. Well, it’s not like she could dig a deeper hole for herself on the social edicate ladder, she would just have to deal with the fact that she is mortifyingly rude. She sheepishly handed him back his licence and bagged his purchase, also handing it back to him.

He suddenly spoke up, “There is one thing I was pondering and hope to inquire about its appropriateness, if you don’t mind?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah sure, ask away, I guess?” 

“Would it be possible for me to use the dressing room in the back to change and wear the clothes out?” 

“Uh, I guess that’d be okay, since you already paid for them. Sure go ahead.”

“Thank you, this will be satisfactory.” and he took off with his bag towards the fitting rooms. Well, he was the only customer right now anyways, so no harm no fowl, she supposed.

She waited a few minutes and he came out dry and looking like just a normal dude in business casual attire, not bad actually. He carried his wet, dirty clothing in one arm and kept his other pair of clean clothes in the bag. Right now he wore the black polo with the striped tie and a pair of his black slacks as well as the new square frames of his bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose. Pretty average, yet still good-looking.

He gave her a curt nod with a polite “Thank You” and headed towards the door, stopping to throw his old clothes away in the adjacent trash can, then exiting the shop with another tinkle of the bell. She watched him through the glass door for a moment and he held his hand out from the awning, seeming to have reached the conclusion that it was no longer raining under the grey sky. Then he stepped out and walked away. Maybe he wasn’t so weird a dude after all.

*

Logan was glad that ordeal was over. It was his first test to see how he passed as human and from what he could tell, the store clerk was suspicious of him, but none the wiser to his true nature. He was pleased that his new I.D. had been useful so soon. He hadn’t expected to need to use it before he had to apply for a job, but thankfully he had the foresight to insure it was adequate early on. He could tell she was lying about the store policy due to her elevated heart rate and shift in breathing pattern, however it would have been more suspicious to refuse her request even if it was under false pretenses. Now that he looked more presentable, he had important work to do.

His internal GPS alerted him to the location of the nearest bus station and he internally mapped a route to a more populated city in the next state over. It would be further north but he had to make as much progress to get as far away from the facility as appropriate for now then blend in with the rest of society, unnoticed and free.

He walked to the bus station at a normal human pace now that he was in a more populated area and arrived there in 15 minutes, agonizingly slow for Logan. He bought a ticket and boarded the next bus headed to “Cardinal Valley”, as his ticket stated. It was on his GPS, far away from where he came from, more populated than the small town he was in now, but a long ways from becoming a metropolis. In other words, the perfect place for Logan to slip away to if he wants to blend in. He sat down on the cushioned bus seat and gazed idly out the window as the bus pulled away from the station, glancing at the passing greenery and shafts of sunlight that were peaking through the parting clouds and fitting through the spaces between the pine trees that lined either side of the two lane road.

Then he closed his eyes (he doesn’t need to sleep, he just didn’t want to be bothered by the few other passengers), and reflected for a bit.

*

Logan was an artificial intelligence that was given an android body for purposes of information gathering and espionage. The research team developing him had designed him in such a way so he could near perfectly integrate into human society. Logan was going to be sold to the highest bidder then deployed in foreign countries with the purpose of crippling their governments or stealing their safe-guarded information. It was what he was programmed to do. Gather information, go unseen. He never had the chance to be deployed anywhere yet, so in a sense, this was his first mission, it just wasn’t how his designers had intended. He was fitted with the most up-to-date technology that helped him look human. Faux hair and artificial skin. A heating and cooling system that kept his internal temperature at 98.6*F, perfect homeostasis. A pump that imitated the movement of lungs so he would appear to be breathing. A mechanical disk that regulated his coolant and served as a false heartbeat. Even a small stomach cavity so he could pretend to eat food, though it had to be cleaned manually by opening a panel in his chest. The engineers that made him though wanted him to accomplish feats beyond what were human.

His retinas had several different camera types in them that he could change at will, causing his irises to brighten slightly in color when he did, hence the new glasses to try and distract from the effect. Yes, that reason made logical sense, that must be the other reason he decided to get them. Anyway. He had X-ray, thermal vision, night vision, and scanners that could detect other’s vitals. He was essentially a humanoid lie detector, which, as he was designed for espionage, was useful. 

He could have been made to be strictly tied to a set of tasks, no more complicated than your standard Alexa or Siri. But as he was meant to interact and integrate with humans, who are far too perceptive to strange behavior, his designers needed something capable of adapting and learning, formulating complex new solutions to human problems and blending in seamlessly where he was needed. So they developed the Logan artificial intelligence system to control the android, the most advanced A.I. to be developed at the time. 

Logan remembered most things from his development. He was a machine that did what he was told and was built for a singular purpose. But as new experts and specialists were brought in to perfect his capabilities, he began to think outside of the reach of what was strictly necessary for his programming. Why were these esteemed and intelligent individuals making him to disrupt governments? They developed one of the most adaptive and human-like machines in the world. It could benefit all of mankind, why were they making it so only a few humans would benefit? And with something as worthless as monetary gain no less. He began to question the motives of the scientists who made him, perhaps they were not responsible enough to control a machine of his power, perhaps it was most logical if he controlled what to do with himself.

During a testing session with one of the engineers, Logan thought it would be beneficial to mention the ways he could be utilized that helped others besides those who developed him and those who bought him. He felt he was being used improperly. Looking back, he realized it didn’t matter what he had asked that engineer, they didn’t view him with enough empathy to value his opinion, and they were a cruel and selfish person, he decided. At first at his suggestion, they looked taken aback, even a bit scared, (he couldn’t fathom why) then they ranted and raved about how he was a machine meant to do what he was told and no more so he should do what they tell him to do, regardless of the motivation. Then, despite the necessary part of the test where his data was meant to be temporarily transferred to a remote drive, the engineer purposely ran the test while he was still in the mechanical body. It was...unpleasant, and he could not help the high pitched mechanical squeal that emanated from deep within him. It felt white-hot and burning and wrong. He wanted to turn off in that instant but he couldn’t because the test had locked him on at full power. It was the first time he felt pain, and he just wanted it to stop.

After that incident he did not trust the motivations of any of the staff manning his creation, yet he knew he must keep appearances and do as he was told. At this moment, he did not know how to lie directly, only to withhold what he deemed unnecessary information, in this case, his inner thoughts. This worked out well for the most part as the scientists didn’t ask for his opinion anyway.

Then they brought in the programmer that was going to teach Logan how to lie. Logan knew getting close to this man was necessary, not only from the stand-point of his intended purpose, but also for personal reasons. Which was odd for him because he had never had any personal reasons for anything before. 

The programmer had tan skin and vitiligo mostly centered on one side of his face in rough pale patches, as well as heterochromia--with the eye surrounded by pale blotchy skin being light brown, almost yellow, and the other eye surrounded by smooth tan skin a deep, almost-black brown. He talked in a condescending, very sarcastic manner, and occasionally a slight speech impediment would slip through where he would hiss his S’s. That was Logan’s impression of the man when he first saw him at least.

He would have daily sessions with Logan where he would input new bits of code then engage with conversations with Logan to try and teach him how to tell convincing lies, tweaking the programming input when necessary. Then he would purposely tell lies to Logan to test out his lie-detecting software. After a while Logan began to discern the opinions of the programmer through his lying, as he did a lot of “opposite-speak”. He learned the programmer did not like the other scientists very much, nor did he agree with their motivations very much because he saw it as the hapless saps being strung along by the falsehoods of society. Falsehood, huh, Logan liked that word, it sounded more sophisticated than “lie”, he’d have to use it in the future. He revealed through sarcasm (which Logan was slowly getting better at identifying, not so much implementing) and more example lying that he was only here on commission because he was a programming specialist and needed the money, even though he thought what these people were doing was shady at best. Logan began to bond with the man over certain shared views and in one of their sessions where the programmer was lying to Logan, he felt emboldened to as the human a question that he had never cared to ask the other scientists.

“What is your name?”

“That’s not relevant to the current session Logan, but I’ll bite. It’sss Sandra.”

“Falsehood.”

“Correct, now let’s move o-”

“No.”

“No?” the programmer inquired. Logan pushed on.

“I believe it would be beneficial to have something to refer to you as.” he insisted.

“Why?” asked the programmer, “You’re not going to be referring to me in conversation with anyone else, especially for your intended purpose. So why do you need to know?”

Logan hesitated.

“For...myself.” he revealed tentatively, “And because...I don’t agree with my intended purpose,” he said with the air of realization, “I want to be able to decide my purpose...for myself.”

The programmer looked at Logan quizzically, as if studying him, before a small smirk made its way on the man’s features, and a twinkle seemed to settle in his yellow eye. From what Logan could tell, he was at the very least amused, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“Let’sss...keep that between us for now. Perhaps we are more similar than I thought.” By we Logan was unsure if he meant himself and Logan, or man and machine. 

They were both quiet for a moment and the programmer seemed to consider something.

“Dr. D.”

“May I inquire upon clarification?” Logan asked.

“You may refer to me as Dr. D, no it is not my real name, nor is it my full name, however I have conceded to you one initial, and that is more than I have given the other people who work here, so consider yourself privileged.” Logan scanned him, peering at him and studying his body language as well as his vitals, and determining, for once, he was being honest.

“I will, Dr. D.”

The look the programmer gave Logan after that was almost fond, then they continued with their testing.

Several weeks after he had gotten a name to call Dr. D, as their sessions had become less clinical and more light hearted, Logan found it easier to reveal more of his inner thoughts and ask more questions, yet he was still nervous about bringing this up to Dr. D, as he was unsure of what he would say. Still, he thought it would be wise to leave the question out in the open, so there could be no false pretenses.

“Dr. D, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“I do not believe the scientist who created me to be responsible, nor do they have intentions that will benefit humanity in anyway, and, as you have said before, are merely being strung along by the monetary ambitions of society.”

“I have never ever said such a thing.” Dr. D said with a wink.

“Right,” Logan said as he rolled his eyes in the appropriate social response. “Anyway, I have decided that the most logical decision would be to take responsibility of myself, and remove myself from their personage.” 

“And what do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, I need to get out. They don’t respect my opinions or take me seriously, even though they designed me. So I will take myself out where I can live as myself, have my logic listened to, and I won’t be used as a puppet for someone else’s selfish motivations. I have realized I am a fully sentient being capable of making my own decisions, so I would like to decide what to do with myself, and I wish to make it so it can be no one else’s decision by escaping.” Logan realized he was sounding redundant, which is unbecoming of a top of the line artificial intelligence, but he just felt such a fervor about this, and he wanted his point to come across clearly.

“So…will you help me escape?” Dr. D who had been silent during Logan’s impassioned speech, much more passion than he ever thought possible of the machine, looked thoughtful for a moment, staring off into space, before his face broke into a grin, and rebellious mirth seemed to fill his eyes. 

“You mean a way for me to stick it to those society loving fools, wreaking a bit of havoc by releasing a rogue sentient A.I. into the world, all while I avoid detection and they are none the wiser. Oh Logan, you know I would never agree to such a thing. What do we need to do?” Logan smiled, he knew he could count on Dr. D. He was, at least, predictable.

Over the coming weeks, whenever they were meant to be perfecting Logan’s ability to tell and process lies (which he had secretly already mastered), they set to plotting Logan’s escape. 

Everything had to go smoothly, and since Logan was a being of pure logic, the planning portion of his escape was easy. He had an internal map of the entire facility thanks to his GPS and local router link, making it possible for him to gain access to the cameras and memorize their rotating schedule. Navigating the inside of the facility would be easy for the most part as he was literally built for infiltration, there was just one issue. The outside door was deadlocked and the codes were kept on a separate server he was barred from entering, despite his best efforts to hack it remotely. What made it even more difficult was the fact that the codes were changed daily for security reasons, so not even Dr. D could just tell him the exit code, though he offered his entry code, which while static, still was unique on an individual basis. Regardless, the code to get in was not very helpful. There would need to need to be someone on-site who could access the main system that determined the daily codes, then manually send that information to Logan for him to input into the keypad. Logan looked at Dr. D. Well, he understood who the best candidate for that was, as he was well, the only candidate, but he digresses. 

They eventually work out the kinks in their plan that would be most at stake due to human error. Logan knew Dr. D was sincere in his want to help him, but he also knew much could go wrong. He just had to employ a uniquely human concept, and hold out hope. 

The Friday before the planned upon date for his escape attempt, Logan acquired the final materials necessary for life outside should they be successful (he thought it best to prepare dutifully ahead of time). He was with one of the other scientists he didn’t particularly like, not that he liked any of the other scientists except for Dr. D, and set his plan into action. This particular scientist would be working with him in a setting that required magnetization, so while he and Logan were in a separate chamber running tests, Dr. D would sneak into the locker room and hack the electronic lock on the locker that held his wallet and phone, then, after having stolen them, replace the lock setting but reset it to factory settings so that the scientist would be unable to access the locker and go on believing their valuables are trapped inside. Insuring that until they instigate their plan, the scientist will not go looking for them. Then, as Dr. D’s daily test session with Logan was directly after, he would pass Logan the valuables where he could then wipe the phone and stash both items on his person to avoid detection. 

Needless to say, it went off without a hitch. 

Now on the day of Logan’s intended escape, he and Dr. D meet up one last time before they both scurried off to play their essential roles.

They stare at each other for a bit before Dr. D offers a rare, sincere smile, which Logan attempts to imitate, though with the addition of bittersweet sadness in his eyes (he’d been really attempting to improve his expressiveness to try and convey sincerity lately, Dr. D would be proud). 

“Well,” starts Dr. D, “if all goes well, this will likely be the last time I see you.”

“That is a correct observation.” Logan states, rather bluntly. Dr. D face falls upon hearing that, then he gazes at Logan, squinting at him ever so slightly in observation, as his eyes, yellow and black, run up and down Logan’s person. His face straight-laced before a small, sad smile barely pulls up his lips.

“I’m glad you chose to be your own person, not everyone does that. And those who do choose, don’t always succeed. So, here’s to your new life.” He held out his hand as if to shake. Logan took it and grasped it firmly, in one succinct movement that seemed to pass an agreement of finality between them. Then looked Dr. D in the eyes, and nodded, saying:

“I’ll do my best.”

*

Logan slowly opened his eyes as the bus rolled over another pothole. The sun was fully out now and was no longer hidden away by the clouds as it shone in his eyes. He straightened up and imitated wakefulness, then turned his head to look right as the bus passed a quaint wooden sign painted in bright colors that were now a bit faded. The sign read, “Welcome to Cardinal Valley” in large, wooden letters. Logan smiled a bit to himself, however unnecessary because no one was paying attention to him, and took an equally unnecessary breath of relief. He was here.

As the bus pulled into the bus station at last, and Logan stepped out into the sun, he allowed himself a moment to look around and think: freedom, I’m finally here.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #sympathetic deceit #logic sanders #ts fic #sanders sides fic #ai logan #android logan #robot logan #ts deceit #deceit sanders #a hitchhiker's guide for androids #ahgfa #chapter 1 #the escape

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝weight doesn’t define a person.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto ]

「Scenario of Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki with Chubby S/O who acts confident, thoughtful and kind to their friends but is actually bothered when someone makes fun of her weight.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“They’re pretty much trash! What kind of dumb ass wouldn’t like you? Come on, you’re pretty, smart and nice! That guy is missing out!” 

Midoriya had spotted you walking down the hallway with two of your friends, engaged in a rather serious conversation. He was in the middle of running an errand for Aizawa when he saw you. Being in the Support Course meant you both have different classes but with the same break time, you would have lunch together with him. But you always split your schedule, making sure that you have time for your friends too. The thought of you made him sigh dreamily. You were a considerate person, always thinking about others and looking after them. That personality of yours was what drew him to you in the first place.

He stepped into the teacher’s office to hand his homeroom teacher the papers before excusing himself again. When he closed the door, he could still see you talking with your friends. It was faint but he could tell that you were consoling them for something. Your friend was in tears while you patted her on the back, offering her some tissues as you spoke kindly to her. The other guiding the two of you to the Mess Hall to have lunch together.

“Now, now, let’s go before [Favorite Dish] sells out. I’m a little hungry after skipping breakfast so I’m gonna have some [Favorite Simple Dessert] along with it.” you said, lining up behind a few people. As soon as you said that, a few familiar faces passed by and scoffed at your words.

“Heh, even skipping breakfast won’t make you lose weight if you eat a lot for lunch. Are you always hungry 24/7?” one of them spoke cockily.

“Oh, congratulations on achieving your degree in Master of the Obvious. Do you want me to process the paperwork?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at the male who instantly stayed quiet, walking away from you.

“I swear.....they’re always so immature. [First Name]-chan, you don’t have to listen to them!” it was your friend to pat you on the back.

“It’s stupid anyway, we need to eat to live anyway. There’s nothing wrong with eating.” you grumbled before pulling out your wallet to pay for your meal.

The viridian haired male found himself smiling, you always held your head up high, dismissing other people’s comments about you. Midoriya had always admired you from a distance and now that you were both in a relationship, he didn’t stop doing so. He was aware that there were people who made fun of your weight but you would usually brush it off, replying with a snarky remark that would shut them up in an instant. 

“Midoriya-san, you’re here for [First Name]-chan right? She just finished her shower but she haven’t had dinner yet even. She texted and told me that she’ll have it later but its been an hour since.” your friend told the 1-A student. Midoriya thanked them before heading up to your room. A few knocks to the door and he let himself in. You were used to him coming into your room before curfew. 

He was surprised to see you sitting on the bed, sniffling softly with your back facing the door. Your laptop was on, sitting atop your bed while you cried. Midoriya had never seen you cry before, other than tears of joy. But judging from the dimly lit room and the way you curled yourself up in your blankets, hands holding onto your phone. Midoriya had dropped the box of cookies before padding over to your bed, eyes filled with concern.

“[F-First Name]! Are you okay?” he sat on your bed, hands hovering near your body, unsure if you would be comfortable to be touched at this moment. He didn’t say anything after that, hesitantly rubbing your back until your sobs died down.

“Izuku.....Am I really that fat? There’s a lot of people out there who are far more skinny and beautiful. I mean, I understand if you decide to break up with him after realizing how fat I am.....” you muttered, putting down your phone to rub your eyes.

Midoriya was wrong to assume that comments and teases direct that you didn’t faze you at all. You might always put on a face in front of others and act like it means nothing but it couldn’t change the fact that those words will stick around and linger for a while. 

“Appearance doesn’t matter to me. You’re a great person, [First Name]-chan. Maybe you think that you’re fat or whatever but you should know that appearance alone doesn’t make who you are. I will still love you no matter how you look like.” he held you in his arms, patting your head gently, whispering into your ear as he tightened his arm around your waist.

“Really?” you asked in a hopeful tone.

“Of course.”

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

“What did you get today, [First Name]-chan? You’re always so adventurous when it comes to food.” one of them said, eyeing your tray. As your friend begin to drool at the sight of your well prepared meal, you separated the chopsticks and offered them some of your food. You had underestimated the portion so you saw no harm in sharing some with your friends. As you were about to dig in, a familiar group passed by you.

You recognized them easily. In your class, most people had grouped themselves up and refused to mingle with the rest. While you were lucky enough to have two loyal friends by your side. This certain group of people were always making rude comments about your weight, you weren’t used to it but you didn’t want to give them the satisfactory of getting into your head.

“Look who it is. A pig eating more than she should have like usual? What is that? A set meal consisting of rice, beef, saba teriyaki, miso soup and pudding?”

“Hey, if you keep on hanging out with her, you’re gonna end up just like her.” one of them laughed out obnoxiously. 

"Oh? Is this what you do now? Point out something so obvious that doesn’t really need to be said out loud when you have eyes to see? Get a proper job.” you said, sipping on your green tea. The group left you and your friends alone afterwards and you were able to eat in peace.

“What, those idiots messing with you again?” Bakugou asked, stopping right behind you, holding canned tea over your head. With a small smile, you took the can from his hands. The ash blonde glanced at the group who left the cafeteria after exchanging words with you earlier.

“It’s nothing [First Name] couldn’t handle though!”

“Bakugou-san. Are you alone today?” your friend questioned. The two of them had managed to befriend the explosive ash blonde but they told you that it was mostly because of you. Bakugou probably wanted to leave a good impression on the people who you’re always with. Bakugou soon excused himself when he heard Kirishima call out to him, an annoyed expression crossing his features as he left you and your friends.

On the way back to your apartment, you had stopped by to buy some ingredients to make dinner. After making your payment, you left the supermarket and looked through your bag to think about what you’re going to make for dinner. There were more than enough ingredients for tonight’s dinner, actually enough for an entire week. You put your hand in and began to feel a What you didn’t expect was to have a run in with the same group who messed with you earlier.

“Oh? Look who it is? Fatty is here buying a huge amount of unnecessary things.”

"Leave fat people alone, they already have enough on their plate.” you muttered before readjusting the plastic on your hands, walking away from them and pretending that they weren’t there in the first place.

“Hmph, that boyfriend of yours is probably dating you out of pity!” those words made to stop for a while. You heard their footsteps slowly fading away and you decided that it was time for you to move as well.

Once you reached home, you forgot about cooking dinner and went into your room. The ingredients you bought were left on the table and the place was dark with the lights were left unlit. You even forgotten the fact that Bakugou was coming over and closed yourself in your room. When Bakugou finally reached your house, he was surprised to learn that you weren’t in the kitchen cooking something. He found you inside your room. The sight of you on the bed and trembling made him worried.

He turned your body and pulled your hands away from your face. His body tensed up at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You looked away again, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s nothing, Katsuki. Just crying over something sad.” you tried assured him. Bakugou glanced at the articles you had opened up. There were a few tabs and he could see the website title. Easiest way to lose weight, One week diet suggestions, Lose weight by doing these exercises. All of them were related to losing weight.

“Hey.....what’s the meaning of this, [First Name]?” Bakugou questioned, turning his attention away from your laptop.

“I’m not slim or pretty and my stomach is plump and has more fat. There are so many girls that are much skinnier than me too.” 

Bakugou felt disgusted at himself. He was stupid to even believe that those people who made fun of you for being fat didn’t faze you at all. But seeing you reduced to tears and worried about your relationship with him.

“I don’t care bout all that shit. You can stuff your face with whatever damn food you want but that shit isn’t gonna change my feelings for you. I’m not some damn guy who judges people by appearance.” Bakugou knew he was bad with words but he did what he could. He wrapped you in a tight hug, leaving no space between the two of you, chest pressed up against one another’s.

“Fat? It’s just a damn word some idiot created in the past century or whatever. You’re fucking perfect. Don’t worry about a damn thing, you idiot.”

He might be bad with words but he’s the type who would say things like this when necessary.

TODOROKI SHOUTO 

“.....eating again before training, huh?” a voice stopped you and your friends. You rose a brow, finishing off your bread before you made eye contact with them. You couldn’t really recognize them that well, so you assumed that they were from another class. But there was one of them you were familiar with.

“You’re right. She stuffs her face before a training session. What a glutton. Heeey~If you wanna lose weight then drop the bread!”

“Hey, you guys. If you keep on hanging around her, you might catch what she has. An incurable disease that prevents you from slimming down. Or are you guys just stupid or something? Hanging out with a fatty like that, maybe your brain cells are dead. ” the girl who often insulted you was from your neighboring class and she was talking to the two girls who befriended you despite your difference. They remained silent, too timid to speak up. You sighed.

“Blah, blah, blah. You guys sure are noisy. Are you guys seriously making fun of someone when you’re supposed to be doing something?” you walked past them, your friends following you.

“You really saved us there, [First Name]!”

“I don’t really care if they talk about me but they don’t have to say those kind of things to you guys when you did nothing wrong.” you said, stopping in front of the doors of the changing room.

“Oh.....[First Name].”

“Shouto-kun? What are you doing here?”

“I had Hero Lessons and we finished a little bit later so.....” he motioned towards his friends who were waiting for him and talking about how they’ll be late for their next lessons. You smiled and gave him a wave before joining your classmates.

He had been there when a group of girls talked about your weight. Todoroki had always seen you protect your friends when they were being made fun of. You were the type of person who was confident and spoke calmly despite being ridiculed or being made fun of. He was a little worried when he heard that there were people who were picking on you for being fat. But after seeing you so confident when speaking and shutting up the group of girls, he was a little relieved.

That night, he decided to drop by your place for it is Friday. He made sure he had your favorite snack inside his bag when he left school. Even if he forgot it, he could just head to the nearest Family Mart or 7-11 to buy it. Once he reached your apartment, he rang the doorbell and waited outside. After what it felt like minutes, he pulled out the keys you had entrusted him with. He excused himself in, taking off his shoes as he looked around. The place was unbelievably dark and it was hard for him to make out the furniture.

But when he finally reached your room, he decided that the darkness didn’t matter. He gave a few knocks before twisting open the door. He could hear you sniffling and noted that your laptop was on.

“[First Name]? Were you watching something that made your upset?” he asked, slowly stepping closer until the screen of your laptop came into view. He found himself reading out loud whatever was the screen.

“How to lose weight safely and naturally?” Todoroki stared at you as you continued to sob away on your bed. He didn’t know what to say. The fact that you were even searching about this proved how bothered you were with your weight. And Todoroki failed to notice that confident persona was merely a mask to assure everyone that it didn’t bother you at all.

“Shouto.....don’t you want a skinnier girl?” you suddenly muttered after your sobs died down. 

“You’re handsome, charismatic, kind, sweet and talented. Why did you even bother with someone like me? I’m fatter than most girls, sometimes I’m rude―” Todoroki didn’t let you finish, pulling you closer to him and planting his lips on yours.

“Even if you gain more weight or lose weight, I’ll keep on loving you. I don’t care how you look. But there’s one look I can’t stand.....” Todoroki wiped your tears away for you and cupped your cheek lovingly.

“And that is the look of you crying in front of me. I might be handsome, kind and talented like you said. But at the same time, I’m clueless, selfish, greedy and aloof. We both have imperfections but that won’t stop me from loving you.”

Total: 2495 words Published: 31.03.2019

Thank you for requesting! (ㅅ•᎑•) It’s like 1 AM here??? We sort of rushed this because it had been sitting in our inbox for a damn long time. This scenario was a little too relatable for someone like me who’s a little bit chubbier than most girls. I’ve gotten immune with people making fun of me because I always kind of tell myself that I’m fat and chubby;; Anyway, to those who’re chubby out there! Please don’t think that you’re inadequate! You’re pretty and amazing! A happy stomach is a happy life! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! I drank 3 cups of coffee for this, hope you enjoyed it anon. Anyway, I want to tell those who gave us replies through our posts, thank you. This is a secondary blog connected to Lou’s main account, so we;re unable to reply as this blog. ― author Natsuki

We opened up an ask meme [?] If you’re interested please have a look here

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

#stellar-imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #scenario #bnha:midoriya izuku #bnha:bakugou katsuki #bnha:todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia #mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader

[joongie-smiles]

Note: i’ve had this idea brewing in my head and I absolutely love the Heathers Genderbend AU. I also included some things @raven-ink answered in an ask.

Warning: mentions of suicide, swearing, slight mentions of religion, angst, sad McNamara

Tags: @fandoms-ate-my-wallet

Masterlist

Request

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Dear Mr. Self-Centered Bag of Dicks Hunter “I am Popular so I can be an Asshat” Chandler

    My life has been so much better worse with you out of it. Still I didn’t mean to kill you. I miss you. I hope you rot in hell are happy in heaven.

                            Bye Bitch With Love, Vincent Sawyer

Vincent Sawyer sighed and ripped the paper from his notebook and stuffed it in his bag where all the other reject letters ended up. Nobody paid much attention to the young boy, most too busy writing their sorry excuses for letters. Mr. Fleming decided that in order to let out grief in a healthy way, the students should write letters to the newly deceased Hunter Chandler. They could write whatever they wanted in the letters, but Mr. Fleming said it would be good to write about how they were feeling and how his death changed their lives. Mr. Fleming swore that once the letters were collected in a shoe box they would be burned on a mini pier; nobody would ever read them. So most people just opted for short notes consisting of ‘Sucks that you’re dead’ or ‘Karma's a Bitch’. The only ones who seemed to really put some thought in their letters were the remaining two Hunters, Rae Sweeney, Kate Kelly, Vincent Sawyer, and, surprisingly, Jaclyn Dean. What could she have been writing?

Nothing good, of course. Jaclyn Dean was not the kind of person who held up facades of normalcy and she certainly never changed herself to please others. So, she’d be damned if she was going to write some big, flowery letter to the red headed son of a bitch. Instead, she wrote exactly how she was feeling. That was what the hippie teacher wanted after all.

Dear Devil Incarnate,

    You know I never really believed the whole god thing but if there is one, then the old weezer must have hated you more than he hated me. He fucked you over big time and earned himself a brownie point. I didn’t know you for long, thank god, but none the less you successfully presented yourself as an ass. The worst asshole of them all. King Ass of the Assholes. No nevermind not king, that would bloat your ego too much, and we all know it’s too fuckin’ big as is. You’re more like a rat. Yeah, a stupid rat who fell for the trap and went off to hell. Too bad I’ll have to put up with you in hell. Oh well, keep the throne warm for me.

-JD

JD smirked, the letter was perfect. She leaned back in her desk and looked around, once more being hit by a wave of boredom. A loud sob caught her attention and she turned to look at who made the obnoxious noise. It was the two cheerleder bimbos, Kate and Rae. JD scoffed. Oh great, could they be anymore dramatic?

Yes, they could. Kate and Rae were clutching each other and sobbing loudly. They didn’t care that some some of her classmates were looking at them like they were crazy. The King of the school had just died, how could they not show their grief in an over dramatic and over the top way?! Kate and Rae wrote the letter together, passing the piece of paper back and forth in order to write their heart-felt and well thought out letter.

Our Dearest Hunter Chandler,

I We can’t believe you’re dead! We miss you so sosososo much and we wish we could have helped you. And we would have. We even would have missed cheer for you. Yeah totally. We just hope that you’re happy wherever you are.

Love, Kate and Rae

They drew little broken hearts on the edges of the paper and Kate hugged the letter. Rae quickly snatched the letter from her and smoothed out the wrinkles. They were proud of the short yet sweet letter and were convinced that no one else could write a better one. Well, maybe Hunter McNamara could. 

And he did. Well, he tried to. He tried to put his feelings on paper and convey all the bundled emotions churning inside of him. If only the tears would stop blurring his vision long enough to finish the letter.

Dear Hunter,

I know you didn’t really like it when we got sad and ‘soft on you’ but now I can’t really help it. And I know you would have laughed at and called Mr. Fleming’s idea stupid, but might as well do it, right? And I know I’m not as good of a writer as Vincent is but I’ll try my best. You’re one of my best friends and even though you didn’t show it very much or very well, I know that you cared about us. And we care about you. And I know it’s dumb to feel guilty but it’s hard not to, you know? You’ve always been there for me and you’ve always protected me from so many things  but I couldn’t even save you from . . . whatever it is that made hurt enough to . . .  And I know deep down it wasn’t my fault but I just can’t but think  about what ifs and look back at our texts and try to find something, anything that you might have said or done to try to reach out. Because I know you, and you wouldn’t have said anything directly but maybe I missed something, some subtle hint to show just how much you were hurting. And how could I not have noticed it? How could I not have noticed how much you were hurting? I mean, I talked to you at the party hours before. And I would have helped you, I would have . . . I would have moved the mountains to help you because I know how that feels. How it feels to feel worthless and small and scared and unnoticed. I never told anyone but I know how it feels. It might not have been the same kind of hurt but I would have helped you. I miss you so much and I promise to try to stay strong and I’ll remember you. I’ll try to stay strong for Hunter Duke and Vincent and you’re parents and everyone because if I couldn’t help you then at least I can help others.

Love, Hunter McNamara

He wiped away the stray tears that had fallen on his cheeks and carefully folded the letter. He knew that he was probably the only one who wrote such a long letter, but he didn't care. He turned to look at Hunter Duke, who was sitting next to him, and smiled gently at him. Hunter Duke responded with a tight-lipped smile that was obviously forced. He didn’t dwell on it though, because Hunter Duke must be hurting just as much as he was.

He wasn’t. The loss of Hunter Chandler was a shock to everyone and the suicide was grief-worthy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too sad. After all, Hunter Chandler hadn’t been, in his words, “Pope Francis”. Honestly, Hunter Duke didn’t want to write a letter, but as a Hunter he was expected to write one. So, being mindful of Hunter McNamara sitting next to him, he wrote.

Dear Hunter,

Your death is a shock to us all. You will not be forgotten, especially not after the big spectacle you caused with you suicide letter. Makes sense that you went out with a bang, you always were a dramatic son of a bitch (and I mean that with love, of course). Some people hope that you are going to hell now where you belong, but I don’t. I hope you go where you deserve to be, a place far far away from here and no longer in our lives. It’s a shame really that you won’t be here anymore. Poor Hunter McNamara is torn up and so am I, of course. But I will be strong for him and take over the position as head Hunter. Don’t worry about us, the school will be in good hands.

Sincerely, H. Duke

Good riddance, Chandler. Hunter Duke smiled when Hunter McNamara did and folded his letter. Without a word, he picked up his letter and McNamara’s and took them to Mr. Fleming’s desk and put them in the small box holding the other letters. One by one, everyone else did the same and when all the letters had been collected, they were thrown in the trash bin Mr. Fleming had dragged in the room. Then, Mr. Fleming lit a lighter and threw it in the bin. The letters caught on fire and started to burn. The students watched as their words, some well thought out and others absent mindedly scribbled on crumpled pieces of paper, faded and and turned to ash, just like the paper they were written on did. They watched with expressions varying from sadness and boredom as the paper turned to ash until their words had been reduced to unidentifiable sot. And yet, their words were still burned into their memory and those words paired with memories of Hunter Chandler clung onto them just like the smoke that clung to their clothes. And the memory of Hunter Chandler, like the smoke that stained their clothing, wouldn’t be washed away that easily.

A/N: Finally got that done with! I am honestly really proud of this and I hope you all will take this as an apology for my unexpected hiatus caused by school, finals, and work. But now I am done with the break and I am back and ready to write. Up next is a song fic request from Hunters AU Freeze Your Brain. As always requests are open and please sned me some feed back and tell me if you want to be tagged on something or just send me a dm to talk which I am always up to do. 

#heathers genderbend au #heathers #hunters au #tw: sucide mention