#so here's this silly drawing where they are out for blood <3 as they should be <3

[artistlara]

Trigger-happy

Monochrome version 💜💚🩷

#they're so insane I LOVE THEM AAAAGHGHH #sometimes I do forget they take pleasure in doing violence bc I hit them with the domestication beam /lh #so here's this silly drawing where they are out for blood <3 as they should be <3 #🍵lara does art #picos school #pico's school #friday night funkin #friday night funkin' #fnf #fnf pico #fnf nene #fnf darnell #schoolground trio #< we should make that a tag here atp #I saw someone on twt call these three that and I like it :3 #tw knife #tw gun

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.1

pt. 2 , pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again.

word count : 1K+

watch it : mild fluff, heavy on the angst, situationships, toxic relationships, Jude is kinda an ass in this one sorry, not very happy ending

happy valentines day LOL

—--

you and Jude have a complex history, complex relationship. 

you aren't officially together but at the same time you are exclusive. it's odd, but it's what works at the moment, (even if you wish he would just grow the balls to make you his already.)

you get he's a busy guy, top player both club and international. you aren't going to force him to choose you or make him get with you while his career is soon about to peak. 

your wishes for more soon fade into the background as he presses gentle kisses into your skin. he called you a few hours prior, wondering if you wanted to keep him company while he binges movies and orders you a pizza. you said yes, maybe a little foolishly. but it's hard to stay away from him. 

he's addicting. maybe it's a rush of being with someone whose whole existence is so grand. maybe it's the fact of knowing you have what millions of others crave for. you don't know, you try not to read into the intricacies. bad habit. 

so here you are, face pressed up against his chest while you lay side by side on this stupidly large couch, action movie playing, your pizza done, belly full and body warm. 

"what are you thinking about love?" he mumbles. 

"you." you shrug.

"me ?" he chuckles. 

you hum, wiggling deeper into the pile of blankets. 

"i've been thinking about you. and us." he confesses, almost shy. the movie playing in front of you has long fizzled out of your attention. 

hey might as well rip the band aid off. 

"me too," you hum, "why aren't we official again?"

you feel him sigh dramatically, "because my career."

you squint. there goes the same lousy explanation. "you could put more i don't know, thought into us."

he shifts under the blankets , "valentine's day is coming up. dont worry love i have it all planned out." he assures you. 

"oh yeah ?" you tease

"just you wait, the best valentine's day ever." he kisses the top of your head soundly.

—--

worst fucking valenties day of your life. you don't remember being more livid a day in your life. you cant remember the last time so much pure rage burned through you, hot enough to hurt. you didn't think it was humanly possible to clench your fist so tight youve dug into your palm hard enough to draw blood. 

your head hurts, your legs hurt, you think your arm is starting to bruise from where you were shoved into a table on "accident" but what would Jude know. he was so busy taking pictures with models and laughing at corny jokes while you kept yourself company. texting and calling didnt work and he didn't even try to give you any attention the whole night, you can't keep doing this with him. 

"you can't just run off-" Jude shouts from somewhere behind you. 

"or what Jude. or fucking what." you seeth, not bothering to face him, storming out into the night. 

It's your fault for trusting him all those nights ago. your fault for falling for the same shit over and over. 

he sprints to catch up to you, "i don't know why you're being like this."

you stop dead in your tracks, "oh i don't know, let's think. you didn't tell me your escorts would be there. and to top it all fucking off they have to nerve to be on my ass the whole night, not letting me get anywhere near you even through we walked in together?"

he doesn't respond and you half the mind not to punch the shit out of him, walking further away from the club you just came from, heels clanking against the sidewalk so hard it hurts, pulling on your dress so you dont trip and fall. maybe you should let it go so you can fall flat on your face. that would be a better ending to the night than seeing his face. silly stupid you thinking this would work. 

"happy fucking valentines day huh Jude. you take me to a damn club, you ignore me the whole night, and you spend all your time surrounded by other women who might as well just suck you off right then and there." you yell, hell if anyone hears. you want them too, you want him to be as humiliated as you feel. 

Bellinghams date thrown away the moment you step inside, ignored and tossed for some common whores. oh you can't wait to see where your face ends up online after tonight. you can see the headlines now. 

he grabs your arm, making you face him, "love listen-"

"no, you dont get to fucking do that anymore. you cant keep sweet talking your way out of things when you fuck up. why can't you just pretend to care" your voice shakes, you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.

"i'm not trying to talk my way out of it, i'm trying to explain." he tries.

you yank your arm out of his grip, "i'm not listening anymore, im done. all i asked was one day for us, just valentines day to make things work. and you showed me you dont care enough for that." 

"please, let me fix this." he pleads.

"its too late."

"i wanted things to work so fucking bad, and you humiliated me Jude. i imagined a nice dinner, hell i would have settled for take out and a few kisses. that's how bad i want things to work, that's how bad i wanted you." you tremble. 

"please my darling. let's talk about this. come back inside and i'll show everyone that you are mine," he holds a hand out to you, waiting. silently pleading with each breath he takes. 

the street lights dance across his skin as for a moment you almost believe him. for a moment you think about stepping back inside with him. you can't do that to yourself, not again. 

"no, iim done. don't follow me, don't call me dont text nothing. i want nothing more to do with you." your firm, final. swallowing the lump that builds in your throat, youd be damned if he sees you cry after this fucking shit show.

he stops in his tracks at this, not bothering to try and stop you. 

it hurts more than it should to leave him behind you, but you honest to god can not keep up with his lifestyle. 

all those articles and rumors were right you suppose, he's an arrogant stuck up bastard with too much money to know what to do with, too cocky for his own good and destroys anything good that comes his way. you hope he's happy without you. 

#jude x you #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #footballer angst #jude bellingham angst #footballer x reader #footballer fic #footballer one shot #footballer imagine #footballer x y/n #footballer x you

[comfortless]

pls sir,,,, more dungeoneer konig and knight gf,,,, pls,,,,

why do you guys like seeing him suffer… part 3 of this guy i suppose! what are the sillies up to now….

dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: injury, violence, does it count as animal death if a gnoll dies i wonder…

She’s not entirely as adept as he is with these things, at least, that’s what he’s believed thus far. How could she be? A woman like her belongs in painted portraits adorning castle walls, not down in the dark with rarely little more than blades and sprays of blood for company.

Despite his assessment, when a particularly nasty gnoll manages to land a deep bite into König’s shoulder, it’s her that saves him. The pain is instant, warm salivating fangs digging past all defenses and pushing straight into muscle. The gnoll even has the audacity to huff out what sounds like a whine of delight when warm blood spurts straight into its maw. Perhaps, had he not been so focused on the lady knight, he wouldn’t have made such an error. Even now, rather than moving to overpower his aggressor, he watches her as she weaves through the debris of the tight corridor, her rapier readied at her side.

He’s fortunate that she reacts immediately, driving the sword so deeply into the beast’s guts that König could almost swear he feels the sharpened tip brush over his own tunic before she presses her boot to the gnoll’s spine and pivots backwards to free her blade, now glistening in crimson. It’s gruesome and foul but the look in her eyes is anything but— only tender.

“Thought he went for your neck…” The concern in her voice rings out clear, her hands trembling when she sheaths the blade and takes his arm into both of her own to lead him out of the decrepit dungeon. There’s nothing here apart from cobwebs and enraged monsters, no signs of a treasure promised. It was foolish of him to even drag her out here and now she’s.. caring for him. Oddly enough, this is the first time in a long stretch he’s had any woman willingly do just that without pity or disdain.

He tries to protest; the wound isn’t that bad, just a few punctures where fangs met flesh. Still, she props him against a sturdy oak, straddles his lap as she takes a dagger to begin tearing away his clothes.

“You don’t need to…” He trails off when she begins to clean the wounds, a little hiss of breath from the sudden sting of some pungent alcohol she’s produced from her bag, a sigh of relief when she smears the balm and wraps the wound tightly with a length of silk.

She’s not as indifferent to him as she pretends to be. Not at all.

More often than not his longing stares are met with a curious glance from her, maybe a soft huff of breath when she turns to look away. After his injury, König finds she’s quite affectionate too. She forces him down to kneel in shallow water while she meticulously cleans him, fusses over the wound as though it were her own, telling him he should not move too much lest he irritates it and draws out other beasts with the scent of his blood. She even gives him an almost imperceptible kiss on the cheek once she’s finished.

Come nightfall, she’s migrated from her bed to his own. There are no inns this far out, only rolling fields and forests. They’re camped out in the open, a horrid idea in the event of bandits, but she insists on watching over him through the night— if anyone comes, they’ll be struck down by this cocky, vigilant lady. He doesn’t doubt her ability anymore.

Their torches have long since burned out, and seeing as she won’t allow him to do so much as brush his hair from his face, stoking a fire seems out of the question. The glow of the moon provides enough visibility for her to see he isn’t clammy and feverish from infection, and that’s satisfying enough for her.

When dawn rises, a soft yellow glow dimmed by pillowy white clouds, König finds her not awake, but curled against his side, still wearing that heavy armor. Though there’s still a dull ache in his shoulder, one that screams he’ll be reprimanded if caught, he diligently works at the straps and buckles to free it from all but her chest before she stirs. When those eyes stare up at him, his heart flutters in a way he’s not so sure it ever had before. There’s always a tingle during an invigorating battle or the wave of excitement that washes over him when he takes his first step to descend into a dark crypt.

This is different.

He finds that it’s not just a blistering lust he feels for her anymore, but an unwavering sense of belonging at her side.

“… told you not to move,” she grumbles, batting his hands away as they rest over the straps along her shoulders. He could never fully place why she looks so different without heavy steel securing her, like a drab cocoon cracking open to reveal an achingly beautiful butterfly. “You should still be sleeping.”

“Ja, but you looked uncomfortable.”

“I’m not even supposed to be asleep.” Follows it up with a laugh that breezes like the most gentle song to his ears.

When they begin to gather their things to move on to the next destination, a small village near the coast, he realizes just what this bizarre feeling is. It’s love, or at least the closest to it that he still believes in.

“Is it against your code to marry?,” he asks, nonchalant as their next journey begins.

She’s busying herself looking over the map, her fingertips ghosting over the weathered parchment ad if the carve a path. The question doesn’t register for a moment, but when it does, her brow raises slightly in confusion.

“You know that I’m not a knight, König.”

“You are to me.”

She pauses for a moment, nearly dropping the map as her steps come to a sudden halt. She rolls the parchment back up, glancing away from him then.

“Then no, I suppose it’s not.”

#dungeoneer!könig #könig x reader

[yaravella]

More Than Anything pt. 1 - Gepard Landau

Gepard Landau x Reader // pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warning: angst, unrequited love, modern au

Synopsis: One day Serval brought you home and you have been a part of Gepard's life ever since. When he discovered he had feelings for you, it seemed it was too late.

Masterlist

[Greeting to everyone who read this. I've been really excited to write about Gepard lately, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing this. English is not my first language so don't hesitate to correct me if I made mistakes. Feel free to request or talk to me through the message, comment, or ask box!]

---

Gepard didn’t remember the first time he met you. Probably in his freshman year in high school, when Serval brought you home for the first time to hang out in her studio. He just remembered he saw you awfully a lot since then. Singing to Serval’s off-tune guitar melody, eating cereal while writing lyrics on the kitchen bar, saying “Hiiiii, Gepard” in a sing-song voice whenever you saw him. 

Not gonna lie, he didn’t find you lingering around the house to be pleasant at first. If you’re over, the house would be blasting with deafening music that he didn’t get where the hell is the enjoyable part from them? And you sing almost everywhere, dear God. It’s not like you have a bad voice, but should you sing everywhere??? It didn’t help that if you saw him, your eyes lit up and you immediately danced, seemingly to tease him. So annoying.

Yet, that's how you become familiar. He didn’t mind you singing around the house anymore. Sometimes, he even joined, humming softly to your melody. He found himself hanging around the kitchen island every time you were there writing lyrics, giving you his thought and opinion about it. Sometimes he asks for a piece of paper from you, drawing you.

"Oh, Picasso~" you said teasingly, "The resemblance is uncanny."

He knew you were kidding, but it made him feel happy. If he doesn't feel like doing anything, he will be just admiring you while you’re writing. Art is creating a piece of art. How’s that possible? 

You’re one thing that he wonders about whenever class finished. Are you going to be there when he comes home? Are you gonna sing along to your deafening music, that he comes to like too, and dance for him today? Are you gonna greet him with your bright eyes? 

Sometimes he caught himself smiling at the thought of you. Does he have feelings for you? Maybe. You are beautiful, smart, and charming. And you treated him nicely. He thought it was only normal if he felt something toward you. But it’s nothing serious. Though he didn’t really know which category should he put you in. Crush? Well, he’s a guy. He also felt things to some girls at school, went on dates several times with them. Any relationship he had with them is short-lived though.  Did he want to date you? But that might ruin this comfortable bubble he has with you, right? He didn’t want that. He wanted to be close to you, and he’s okay with whatever he had with you right now.  And it has been years since you're around. He didn't want to risk anything.

If only he’s good with music, he’d follow you along to major in music. But he thought artistic traits only ran through Serval’s blood in the family, so he’s fine to enter the same university as you. This is a silly crush, nothing more, anyway. It would be nice to see you in the same class as him though. But seeing you greeting him in his house is enough. Dancing and singing to your silly music. 

However, he rather wishes you didn’t come today. 

When he arrived home, he was greeted by heavy metal music blaring in the room. A bunch of people lounged around the living room area, seemingly too busy talking or jamming to the music to notice him.

And you are there too, singing and bobbing your hair left and right to the music. Looking so beautiful as your hair goes wild swaying here and there following the rhythm. Looking so beautiful with a man draping his arm around your shoulder. 

“Ah, you’re home already, Gepard?” he didn’t even realize that his sister was also there, sitting opposite you. Everyone’s eyes were immediately on him. Including you. He felt like a deer caught in the headlight. He didn’t even care about the other people that surround the table. His eyes immediately found yours, which lit up when they met.

“Hiii, Gepard~” Oh, aren’t you so cold? Calling him with that sing-song voice with a man around you. 

He tries to ignore the tightened feeling around the pit of his stomach as much as he tries to ignore the gaze of the dark-haired man beside you. His eyes travel to your hand which rests on top of the guy’s thigh. Your boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend? 

Gepard just nodded his head as an answer to both his sister’s question and your greeting. He’s trying really hard to mask the upsetting feeling that rapidly built up inside his chest. Disappointment? Anger? Or this is jealousy, perhaps? 

He doesn’t waste one more second to be there and immediately walks to his room. Hopefully, no one notices his weird behavior. Hopefully, you don’t notice it. 

But slowly that day he noticed something. You are more than a silly crush he had just to fill his adolescence experience. You are more than a familiarity that greets him whenever he was home. You are more than the song he constantly hears. You are more.

Feeling defeated, he dropped his body to his bed. Now that he realizes you are more than everything he thought you are, it feels like it’s too late.

#hsr x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #gepard #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard honkai #gepard landau x reader #gepard landau x you

[vargaslovinghours]

Requestober 2023: Vargas Edition

The playlist has returned for this year! There will be a few in between, but it should be updating at least once a week on either Wednesday or Friday or both - keep an eye out for your req(s)!

I considered a couple different lines for day 1 - there are just so many Narrator lines that could work for Scriabin! Any of the many times where the Narrator is being sadistic, it all just works. Plus, it’s fun to imagine Scriabin trapping Edgar in the same way, just shoops a wall right into his path haha

But in the end I went for one of the tags I left myself on the original TSP/Vargas crossover doodles, it does still live in my head rent-free after all. You can see in the background that those “invisible” tears were intended from the beginning as well :3c

There’s also something funny to me about Scriabin using the word “rubbish” haha ♪ How posh

Edgar, as usual, getting blame for something that was definitely his Narrator, I mean Scriabin’s fault lol

I really wasn’t sure what to do with day 2 at first - I’m too scared to watch any of the SAWs, or look them up on YouTube >~< I tried finding transcripts with stage direction or people describing them in text online but I couldn’t really find anything, I really do appreciate my friend for telling me about one haha. Even with that though, I still had to do a lot of guesswork! Something about wrists, fear, not doing well - Scriabin is very cute hiding behind Edgar but it’s still not very obvious what the theme is, huh?

I was able to find a very brief animation of I think? the trap that had been described to me but even that was a bit much for me :’D I was a very wimp that day! I didn’t even have it in me to draw the trap itself in the sketch! There’s something a bit ominous about not being able to see into the trap completely, only the blood pooling at the bottom ♪ But I’m still happy I went with what I did in the end, though I did have to change Scriabin’s dialogue from fear to accusation - though that tracks for him haha

Day 3 was silly and therefore easy to whip up haha ♪ The angst is done, the blood is done, this leaves only kisses! Any opportunity to use my pencils to make kiss-marks, I will take lol. Clearly this is what the prompt was pointing at! Obviously! Lol

If you look, Jake’s lips are painted pink and Scriabin’s red, and they have each other’s lipstick marks on their faces lol - I am attention to detail when it comes to kisses ♪

I did still end up making an alt even after pretty much decided on the first one, it’s still fun to think about Scriabin interacting with Jake before he gets his own body ♫ He’s so smug lol, at least they’re easy to cover! Ish! Mostly! Probably itch tho lol

Day 5, yaaay some Biblical Edgar <3 I have been out of practice drawing wings lately so they’re basically just Big Shapes here lol, it’s all about blocking out the space they’ll take for when it’s cleaned! I am quite happy with how he turned out digitally, his cute face ♥

Day 7 got a couple passes as well before settling! It’s a theme lol, though there were both kidverse! The prompt mentioned “brothers” but that doesn’t necessarily mean when they were kids - they can be silly and sibling-like even After, they have the range. Still, Edgar pushing him on the swing as a kid was a cute idea so I’m glad I at least scratched it down haha. Why’s he so heavy? He’s dense ♪

The alt was the winner tho! I love how much like a bug Scriabin looks here haha, how could he have possibly seen this coming??

Day 8′s sketch was done outside in the dark actually, stargazing very appropriate!  You can kinda see me go back and forth on their clothes in the moment lol, Edgar’s striped shirt visible on his upper arms underneath his long sleeves and I still ended up going with a scarf! I also planned to make their breath clouds but I forgot them in the end, that background took up a lot of my focus lol. Also how come Edgar’s feet turned out better here than in the final version >:P

Gaster! A warmup for Day 9 since it’s been a bit since I’ve drawn him, especially with the cracks in his face! Scriabin is annoying his offscreen so it still totally counts as being Vargas-themed lol

Their poses were a bit subdued initially so I knew I wanted to try again, but at the same time there are a lot of elements here that I liked! Especially their hands, Gaster holding his hands in fists at his sides rather than speaking to Scriabin through sign language, and Scriabin with his flourish-opened palm, inviting ♪

Actual pose skeletons lol, though Gaster’s was a bit top-heavy. It all worked out in the end at least :)

Day 11 was a very fun concept! Turning Scriabin into an Enderman was an especially fun idea if Edgar could figure/find out that he could hide from him using a pumpkin mask, though I’m sure that would make Scriabin mad as well once he found him haha. Just sneeaaak quietly behind him, he’ll never know! Also the pumpkin having Edgar’s glasses, goatee, and scars carved into it haha <3

All the same, I’m glad I went with what I did - Scriabin’s pose is so much more dynamic! Very fun! His hands and his legs, and the way his coat flares out! Plus putting his Ender teeth on display was a lot of fun haha ♪ Poor Edgar can’t catch a break no matter what world he’s in, at least I didn’t actually turn him into a sheep lol

Day 12, yaaaay I finally got to Uncle Jake! So nervous <3 Don’t break the baby, don’t hurt him don’t move too much ahhh! Haha, terribly cute ♥ I do still really love how confident Edgar is here - he’s usually so nervous around Jake, but oh how the tables! Dadgar with a support system <3 His FWB comes to say hi to his son, it’s very wholesome hehe ♪

Day 13 was actually drawn way of out of order, between several of the later days and even day 12 I think lol, it’s so hard to convince my brain to listen to new music haha. It was quite a lot of fun making the text not look like it’s “spoken,” outside of a text bubble hehe, I don’t do that too often! And of course still deeply inspired by his palette challenge, it is too pretty to not pull from every not and again <3

Honestly I initially had no ideas for day 14, and yet this was still the only sketch I ended up with! My earworm at the time came in clutch, honestly do listen to Everything In You it’s such pretty yearning starcrossed song ah <3 All these musical doodles haha ♪ Sweetness sweetness <3

And of course when they’re that close there has to be a kiss! Scriabin is surprised, but how much? :3c Edgar giving Scriabin kisses of his own accord 💖 That theme never really left me either hehe

Day 27, the last Vargas day! Had to get in one Snake Charmer before the end huh haha ♪ It’s too bad my Ladyverse!Naga idea was a bit too long or I would’ve done that, but I’ll never turn down the potential for pretty clothes! And spiders for that matter haha, I went with the Acanthoscurria Geniculata - Brazilian Whiteknee again :) As much as I love Scriabin as a Bold Jumper, tarantulas just have such gorgeous proportions! And of course, I always enjoy drawing Lady!Scriabin, so it was doubly fun to draw her as a spider :)

That’s all of this year’s Vargas sketches! A fun bunch! And it was fun to mix a few others in as well :D

#💟 #Doodles #Art #Edgar #Scriabin #Jake #Nny #Todd #Blood #Sketchdump #And there's also a Gaster and a couple AUs hanging around in there as well haha #It was a fun bunch this year! And a bit more equally spread haha I appreciate it :D #It also makes compiling my roundups easier so I doubly appreciate it! Love it when my sketchdumps don't break on me four times lol #For the record this one didn't break even once ♪ Very well behaved haha #As usual I always go extra on Day 1 lol - but even with the extra time I tried to keep things a bit smaller scale this year :3 #I mostly succeeded! Still the occasional bonus or big piece haha #And lots and lots of alts - also the usual haha #But even with that there were still carryovers between everything! A couple of pieces here got my lighting itch - especially the last one #It was technically lazy cell shading but y'know what! It ended up looking cool! I will always take that haha #Anyhow ♪ Since they took up the front there have already been a few Vargas speed draws posted! Take a look for yours! :D #And thanks again to everyone for participating <3 It was a fun year!

[un-local]

Predictibly, Rogier: 3,6

3) Design/Aesthetic Thoughts

First, a photo for reference, taken from his fextralife page.

I have a lot of thoughts on his design, but precious few of them are anything substantial. Regardless, I am including them all. Lol.

[1] Love the Landsknecht vibe. (Wikipedia link)

[2] I hate drawing that hat though, I really do. It's the bane of my wretched existence. I hope that swingy glintstone piece whacks him in the face ♡

[3] The jester boots. Lol. What is he thinking. 

[4] So many layers. How does he not overheat and die immediately. 

[5] What the hell is that stupid little cape necklace. I love him

(gif from this post!)

[6] The fact that that blue and yellow are his main colors has some fitting connotations under Hankshaw's Video on Color Theory in Elden Ring. Here's my thoughts, copypasted from an older post:

He's a mix, an entity in the Lands between unlike any other. Calm, logical, rebellious. Creative. Lonely. An agent of change, as much a scholar of the Order's history as he is a heretic. As a sorcerer who to seeks to repair the Order by altering it, Rogier is a striking clash of ideologies.

[7] His concept art (?) on fextralife is interesting. He seems to be older, and he's possibly using the staff as a cane.

I wonder how his story and injury changed and adapted throughout development. Was he originally meant to play a bigger (or smaller) part in the game's world? He seems to be at the heart of something big, but he also seems so inconsequential in the grand scope of things. Was a more involved story cut, or was it always intended to be this way?

Also, why’d they get rid of the laugh lines? :( I guess ill just have to bring them back in my art.

[8] I love how his outfit incorporates glintstone:

It's even in his boots, and the sleeves of his doublet... overshirt... thing.

I love how the blue/yellow/white of his design contrasts the red/yellow/black of Alberich's. Note how Alberich's is decorated with red glintstones, made from blood sacrifices:

Also of note, their respective hats describe them as “heretical.”

(I went deeper into looking at Alberich as Rogier's foil, but honestly, that post went... a lot off the rails.)

6) Psychological Headcanons 

(tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

[1] He wields customer service voice and scripts like no other. He’ll spill soup on you and give such a good apology that it'll make you want to make it up to him.

(Whether or not this is intentional... It probably depends on the situation.)

[2] Talents: according to this, his dex is actually higher than his int.

Given that, it seems he’s more practiced with sword than spell. Or at least, he picked up sword-fighting before sorcery. Which brings me to this YouTube short by a fencer, where he says that fencing and dancing are "intricately linked," and "one really informs the other."

So here's my silly little headcanon: Back in the day, in his life before, Rogier killed it on the ballroom floor. (Or whatever they had back then.)

...I wonder how many situations he talked himself out of (and into) while dancing with a partner. It seems like the perfect time to turn his "easy air" up to 11, as D calls it.

Idk, I think his life among nobility shaped the way he wields his manners. I'd love to think he learned how to turn his skills from that life into a weapon, one just as effective as his sword. That before his time in The Lands Between, it was really the only weapon he could use against the agendas of others.

[3] His fear: his untimely demise. I think the onset of this only really began after his injury. That's when he began to really understand the risks associated with his research.

Look at it this way: there’s knowing something is dangerous and acting accordingly, and then there’s understanding what the consequences are. (Ex: wearing PPE because you know you should, vs actually seeing what exposure to a chemical does to you.)

Before Stormveil, desperation and denial probably helped keep that understanding at bay. He’s chasing this thing, and he knows it’s dangerous—he’s done all the reading and research he possibly can. But I wonder how much he actually let himself stop and think about the danger before he jumped into his search for the next artifact. 

But now that he does truly grasp what’s in store for him, there’s no way to change course. I think that his fate (and it's inevitability) scares him to no end. I think it kills him that he won't be able to finish what he started. That he doesn't have time anymore—in the land where no one's supposed to die, no less.

The only thing he can do is work on his research a little more before he succumbs to the deathless dream. That’s where you, as the player, come in. 

(Side note: as for how long he’s in denial about the fatality of his condition—I can’t say. He could realize it's over as soon as he wakes up in the Hold, or he could be clinging onto some far-fetched hope all the way until he warns the player he’s falling asleep. Readers preference, I suppose.) 

[4] Regrets: the better question is what doesn’t he regret, lol.

Jokes aside, I think most of his regrets center around how things came to pass, rather than what came to pass. I don't think he regrets that he and D parted ways, but I think he regrets how it came to happen. That kind of thing.

[5] One last random headcanon: He's not a morning person. That first hour or so after waking—oof. That’s when his demeanor isn’t at full power yet. I have a small little bit for this in Still Waters planned, far off in the future. Because I want to hear him honestly complain for once, without all that dignity. I think it'd be fun to watch.

Thanks for the ask!!

[ Ask Game Link! ] Send me a character and a number!

#aaaa sorry it took so long i just kept typing and typing askdjfhlaskfdas #elden ring #rogier #sorcerer rogier #hare posts #hare answers #here's hoping all that formatting doesnt get fucked up

[tormie-tormie-chopper]

Hey, I'm Tormie!

You can also call me Tor. Whichever. I'm an artist! I also write.

I intend to post a variety of different things for One Piece -- ship art, general/non-ship art, fluff, memes and shitposts, sfw, nsfw, whump, gore/body horror, blorbo appreciation, and so on -- so hopefully there'll be something here for everyone! I may also post things for other fandoms or for original characters, but I have a separate blog for ocs so I probably won't post too much of that here. I will always try to tag my posts and artwork accurately, especially when it comes to potentially triggering subjects. I have a blog specifically for reblogs @grand-line-tormie.

Do not repost any of my artwork or use it for AI. Reblogs, however, are welcome and greatly appreciated!

Here there be freaks, and here freaks are welcome. Let's be weird and fucked up and into weird and fucked up things together <3 (This should go without saying but I'm gonna say it anyway: Me writing about, talking about, or drawing something does not mean I endorse it in real life. Cool? Cool 😂) My blog is not intended for minors.

My pronouns are it/its. I won't smite you if you use he/him for me, but it's not really my preference lol. However, both gender neutral and masculine gendered terms are welcome! Feminine gendered terms are also fine but better saved for silly or joking contexts.

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Commissions: open!

Look below the cut for askbox info and info on my tagging system!

Some common general tags I'll be using: -#tor draws for anything with my own artwork in it -#tor thinks for original posts just talking and sharing my thoughts, whether fandom or unrelated. -#tor answers for answered asks. -#tor speaks for announcements. -I will usually tag fandoms where applicable, characters in the post, ships in the post, and any other relevant aspects.

Some common CW tags to look out for or block according to need: -#nsfts for explicitly nsfw posts and artwork, or for posts with links to explicitly nsfw fics or artwork (because I expect tumblr won't let me post certain things and I may have to share links to those things instead) -#suggestive for posts and artwork that are risque or mildly nsfw in nature but don't describe or depict anything explicit -#nsfwhump for posts and artwork that are nsfw and depict noncon -#gore for all posts and artwork with excessive amounts of blood or graphic depictions of severe injuries -#cartoon gore for posts and artwork with excessive amounts of blood or depictions of severe injury that are described or drawn in a cartoonish way -#body horror for posts and artwork with body horror, particularly when depicted in intense or grotesque ways. I won't be using this tag for the canon-typical body horror that's often seen in One Piece -- for example, Luffy's rubber powers or Buggy's chop-chop powers -- unless I am specifically talking about or drawing them in ways intended to invoke disgust, discomfort, or horror, with the main focus of the post or image being on the body horror in question. -#blood for posts and artwork with excessive amounts of blood in them. I probably won't use this tag for posts that only have small amounts of blood in them unless the blood is somehow the focus or part of the focus. -Additional tags for relevant triggering subjects will be added when applicable.

Askbox rules: -Just don't send me bigoted shit and we're most likely good 👍🏾 Asks and anons containing hate or bigotry will just be deleted. -Don't ask me to write or draw anything suggestive or nsfw about characters who are minors. -I will do my best to answer asks and anons quickly! But if I don't get to it right away, I'm not ignoring you, I'm probably just busy.

I will try to make sure my artwork has image descriptions in the alt text. If I forget to add an ID somewhere and you'd like me to add one, please let me know! I'll either edit my original post or add a description in a reblog.

#tor speaks #pinned intro #one piece

[luveline]

your boy who is a friend, peter | part three | tasm!peter parker x reader

"Teach me how to do it the way you like it," he insists.

"I like it this way," you say, and you're pleading now. "Kiss me, please. Plea-" your begging gets cut off as he dips down, touching his mouth to yours softly.

"Where do you want my hands?" he asks, the words sending little vibrations into your lips.

<3

summary you visit your pen pal Peter’s home for the week and he sets about defining the relationship between you [5.3k] warnings fluff, smut (heavy petting), some hurt/comfort, idiots in love, long distance relationship meeting up, peter is besotted and a flirt, fem!reader, she/her used for reader, NSFW CONTENT, 18+ please

read part one | two here

<3

The third morning of your stay with the Parker's dawns, identical to the second and yet completely changed. Same shower, staring at the tiles Peter must see every morning, same smiley face breakfast, same wet hair. But burning under everything - every word, every look, every breath - is a wanting.

Because Peter Parker had kissed you. Tasting like sweetness and hands soft as a silk, he'd kissed you. Scandalised you, if he was to be believed.

He kissed you silly and swayed you on tingling footing to the sounds of his crackling record player and the noise of the streets, car horns and shouting and people. You'd barely noticed. All you'd heard was his inhales, his exhales, his hand as it brushed over the skin of your face. The sound his lips had made when they touched yours, the breathy moan at the back of his throat when you pushed your fingers into his hair and tugged.

A second difference - he's busy. He has a class you insist he can't miss so you spend the morning playing bridge with Aunt May. She doesn't take offense to your distraction, though she does take advantage of it.

"You're cleaning me out," you bemoan her.

She smiles smugly, the expression at ends with everything you know about her. Your fingers itch to draw her. When you finish (and immeasurably lose), you retrieve your sketchbook from your bag and try your best to recreate the smirk she'd worn with graphite.

May empties the washing machine at a leisurely pace and doesn't flinch at your dirty clothes, folding them in preparation to hang up outside. You sketch, using her face as a reference to guide you as you edit her features from the peaceful contentedness she has written in her smile now to the wicked gleam you'd bore witness to beforehand. You laugh to yourself silently when she comes alive, downturned eyebrows and a devilish mirth spreading over your paper. Despite a lack of shared blood she looks a lot like Peter when she's grinning so connivingly.

You blush at this thought and your pencil lead snaps. In horror, you release your white-knuckled grasp on your pencil as you set it down. It's a drawing you think you'll keep, for once, a memory.

Peter comes home not long after while May makes good use of the fine weather, pinning clothes outside.

He sits down in the chair opposite you, smiling like a college student never should - uninhibited, positively gleeful.

"Why're you so happy?" you ask, pretending to fix up the sketch of May to avoid his eyes.

"I half convinced myself you were a dream on the way home. But you're still here."

You smile despite yourself and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Will I be subjected to all this- this…" you blush and trail off.

"Flirting?" he supplies, smiling with shiny white teeth. "Absolutely."

You ignore the twinging in your tummy and flip to a clean page.

"My turn?" he asks excitedly.

"Can you stay still for that long?" you ask, skeptical of his ability to behave.

"You're kidding! I'll be a statue," he promises.

You meet his eyes for the first time since his homecoming and melt a little, feeling like a small square of butter on a tall stack of pancakes. His warmth was unavoidable. Sick of pretending you don't have the world's biggest crush on him you give him an earnest, adoring smile, looking at him from under your lashes.

He reaches his hand towards yours and your smile changes, vindicated. "I knew you couldn't sit still."

"How's that fair? You look at me like that and, and expect no reaction? That's sick."

You giggle like a fool in love and turn to your page, cutting swooping, light lines to mark out his silhouette before going in with a refined hand, starting with his distinguished nose, then his dark eyes. You render the planes of his face with a biased hand and find him staring back at you both in real life and your book  eyes flitting between them as your heart rate climbs.

By the time you've finished you're too shy to show him. You shut the sketchbook and act as though it's awful, when in reality you think it might be the best thing you've ever drawn.

"What? Come on, bub, let me see-" he says, reaching for the soft leather cover in your hands.

You pull it back from his radius and shake your head. "It's awful, Peter. I'll draw you something else after dinner."

"Oh, after dinner? Why don't I believe you?" he asks, standing to try his luck again and reach forward with quick hands.

You push your chair back and feel your heart skip as he stills.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asks, grinning.

"Like you're going to- No! No! No, oh my god!" you shout, shocked as he suddenly rounds the table.

You throw yourself from the chair and make a mistake too early in the game, moving deeper into the kitchen. You realise too late that you would've been more successful if you'd made for the stairs, finding yourself cornered where the countertops meet, holding the sketchbook behind your back as Peter closes in.

"Don't come any closer," you warn dramatically, trying to look formidable.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll ruin the whole thing!" you yell, thrusting the book towards a sink of soaking pots.

He stops where he is. "Don't do that."

"Or what?" you throw his words back at him.

His eyebrows pinch playfully. "Trust me. This isn't a game you'll end up winning."

And why did that make your knees weak? You felt heat rush to your face but stood your ground, tilting your head up in defiance.

"I have better odds," you say, the sketchbook still held aloft.

"I don't think you do," he says, taking a step forward.

You put the book an inch closer to its possible demise and watch as steam caresses the soft cover.

"Why so nervous?" he teases.

"Stay away from me, you menace."

"Menace!" Another step closer.

You edge the book closer, its corner a millimetre from kissing the sink basin.

"I've got quick reflexes, sweetheart. Very quick," he says.

"Oh yeah? You're also the only one with skin in the game. The sketchbook means nothing to me. Don't think I won't do it!"

He raises his eyebrows in amusement.

"I don't doubt you would. But seriously," he drives the knife in deeper, teasing for teasings sake, "think about how this is going to end for you."

"I think it'll end with my-" victory, you were going to say, but he sees an opening and springs towards you on lithe feet.

You lose your grip on the book and he catches it like he knew down to the millisecond when you were going to startle. Then he smirks, puts the sketchbook safely on the countertop behind you, and sets his lips on yours. You gasp into his mouth as his hands come up, one pushing the soft pads of his fingertips into the bottom of your throat and the other settling gently over the hill of your cheek.

You're frozen with surprise for a moment. He laughs, a sweet and awful thing, and the sound prompts you into kissing back. You spread your hands across his broad chest like the opening of a birdwing butterfly before chasing up the stretch of his sternum, threading your fingers in his hair, anchoring him to you as his mouth opens yours.

It's a quick kiss and already enough to make your brain short circuit. You pull away to take a breath. He runs his hand up over your throat until both are stationed in twin positions on your cheeks, tenderly pushing the hair he's mussed away from your face. His hands are so big they could cover your mouth if he touched the heels of them together, and the thought infects you with a need to kiss his palm, just once.

He leans his forehead against yours. You watch him close his eyes tightly, watch as he takes a deep breath. The washing machine whirs, the tap drips. The rubber toes of his shoes are too close for comfort, almost treading on your socks.

It feels natural to go on tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck at that moment. They cross in the space between his shoulder blades. He, slowly, reluctantly moves his hands from your face and you miss them sorely as they wrap around your back, completing your tight hug and holding you up.

You drink in long seconds of closeness and talk into the material covering his shoulder. "You smell really good."

"You smell like me," he returns, arms squeezing a hair's width tighter as he speaks.

"Do I?"

"Undeniably."

"Well, I've been sleeping in your bed."

"And wearing my clothes."

You smile into his skin, buzzing with happiness. You lean against him in a bubble of warmth until he squeezes you tight and pushes you away with a regretful groan.

"What?" you ask him, perplexed by the way he's looking at you. Unlike his usual self, this Peter is truly unreadable. You can't tell if he wants to kiss you again or if he wants to pitch himself off a skyscraper. "What's that face mean?"

"Means you're beautiful," he says lightly, hands roving over your arms.

You're not sure he knows he's doing it. He gazes at your face with a devout look in his eyes and raises his hand to cup your cheek.

You lean into his touch, eyes wide.

"You're beautiful, too," you say quietly.

His lips quirk into a familiar smile. "We're a good pair, then."

"We should go for Prom King and Queen," you jest.

His eyes light up at your joke. "We'd win in a landslide."

"Did you go to prom?" you ask him. His thumb sweeps semi circles over your cheek, summoning a wave of goosebumps.

"Sure. Didn't win Prom King, but that's 'cos I didn't have you there to persuade them."

"I'm your spokesperson, then?"

"You're my longest stroke of luck," he corrects softly, the words you'd written him months ago. The humour in his tone has been subjected to an upheaval, completely replaced by tenderness, floating between you both, tearing you open.

The skin under his fingers feels bruised.

You hide from the emotion in his expression lest you tear up, tucking your face in the curve of his neck, arms wrapping around his back in a second hug. He covers the back of your head with his forearms as he reciprocates and presses his lips into the top of your head soundlessly, a chaste kiss.

"I'm the lucky one," you mouth. Even though he likely doesn't hear you, you think maybe his arms tighten just a little bit more around you at your admission.

-

"Did you go to prom?" he asks you a little later, elbow deep in pasta dough.

He's got flour dusted over his cheek, his top lip and his forehead. You neglect to tell him this, legs kicking gently where you're perched on the countertop.

You're not interested in talking about prom. You shift the sketchbook in your lap and decide it's no good, there's no way you'll get the complexity of his idiosyncrasies down on paper when he talks so fast and shuffles through so many expressions — annoyance when the yolks break prematurely, light pleasure when the yolks and flour begin to merge, pride when a tight, yellowy dough forms.

He wipes the side of his face with the back of his arm and you rejoice as the flour spreads like dandelion seeds.

You tuck your pencil between the pages and jump down off the counter. He opens his mouth to inquire.

"I'm gonna go get my camera," you say.

"Okay." He's already turning back to the dough. You're hard-pressed to tear your eyes from his biceps as he kneads the pasta vigorously. "Don't get lost."

You don't get lost. When you return, camera in hand, he's entirely casual. You've no inkling of suspicion until you notice white fingerprints on your sketchbook.

When he looks up at you finally he's half-guilty, half-enamored, eyes practically heart shaped.

"You sicko," you complain, setting your camera down. "Do you have no regard for any personal boundaries?"

He frowns then, the beginnings of an apology on his tongue.

You jump to soothe him. "It's fine: I'm not mad. Quit looking like you stepped on my tail."

"I'm sorry. I just- you're amazing. Really,"  he apologises anyway.

You sigh and step into his space, wiping the flour from his face with tentative fingertips. His eyelashes kiss the soft skin of his undereye as they shutter closed.

You take his temporary blindness as an opportunity, pressing your lips to the newly cleaned skin of his cheek to leave behind a lip balm print. His eyes jump open as you set your heels back down on the ground, browned honey simmering in his irises.

"It's okay. You're forgiven," you say, much too gentle for the situation.

He looks flustered as he turns back to the dough. "Of course I'm forgiven. I have the best puppy eyes. Look up puppy dog eyes in the dictionary and it's a picture of me," he says, voice higher than usual.

"Uh-huh. I believe you." You take the camera into your hands.

"Really?" he asks, still attending to his pasta dough. "Cos you sounded a little skeptical, and- Oh. Do you mind? I'm covered in flour."

You drop the camera from your eye level and grin. "I don't mind at all."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, hotshot. I'm serious, though, you'll have to put that down. I need your lovely hands."

You take another shot of him mid 'lovely' and revel in the permanent evidence of his affection as the photo loads. He looks all golden and homespun in the warm late afternoon light, head inclined like he's telling a secret, mouth in a half moon smile as he forms the v-sound.

You look up from the monitor and find him in a similarly inviting pose, though he's closer now. "You'll have to hold the dough. Or you can turn the handle, if you want to," he offers, eyes wide and kind. You want to kiss each eyelid.

You wash your hands as he rolls the dough into a sheet. The pasta maker is old and sturdy, worn gold plating and a dark green body. You hold the sheet of pasta in place as he turns the handle with one hand and catches the lines of noodles with the other. Soon, you have enough fresh pasta to feed the three of you with some to spare, and he looks proud as he drops it into boiling, salted water.

"This is nice. The first meal we've made together," he says as you stir the pan where the beginnings of your sauce cooks. You smile though you could cry and he bumps his hip into your side. "We didn't even burn it. Go us."

"Don't jinx it, Peter," you warn him, brandishing your wooden spoon at his chest.

"Watch where you point that thing."

A contagious laugh bubbles out of you. Even to yourself you sound egregiously adoring.

"Your laugh… Letters never would've been enough. I can't believe I missed out on your laugh for two whole years," Peter says.

"I don't–" You bite your lip, stir the pan. He waits patiently for you to continue. "I don't laugh that much, really. So you wouldn't have missed much." You attempt a lightness and end up sounding strangled.

"Alright," he says agreeably, pushing a flyaway from your forehead with his index finger. "The opportunity to make you laugh, then."

"I laugh at your letters," you tell him honestly, setting the wooden spoon down on the counter to turn to him, hungry as a stray dog for his attention.

"I didn't get to hear that, though."

"I see. It's only fun to make me laugh if you get to hear it."

"Must you twist my words?"

"No, no, I'm not twisting. You said-"

"I know what I said!" he interrupts snarkily.

You fiddle with the knob underneath the stove top and turn the pasta sauce down, cheeks aching from the force of your smile. Peter picks out a noodle and throws it at the wall. You both cheer when it sticks. He tips a spoonful of pasta water into the sauce and you stir it in as he drains the noodles. You cringe at his method, a small plate held to the top of the pot.

"You don't own a colander?" you ask.

"No, we do," he says.

You think you're just about getting used to his flippant attitude until he scalds himself with steam and drops the plate into the sink. He rescues the pasta but his fingertips are ruined, red and shiny in seconds.

You rush to take the pot handle from him and almost burn yourself in your hurry, grabbing his wrist to force his hand under the cold water. You hold him there with both hands, though you don't think he's going to try and escape, smoothing the skin of his hands with your thumbs in what you hope is a soothing manner.

"Peter..." you murmur in disbelief.

He doesn't say anything. When you look up into his face he looks guilty. "What?" you ask.

"It's almost worth losing my fingers to have you taking care of me," he says. He's joking, obviously, he won't lose any appendages anytime soon, but his confession has you dizzy. You push your thumb into the meat of his palm and analyse the burns. He has four in total; one on his marriage finger, one on his middle finger, a first on the tip and a second stretching down the length of his index finger.

"Do they sting?" you ask.

"Enthusiastically," he says seriously, pulling his hand away from yours. He looks them over with his own eyes and then smiles at you mischievously. "Kiss ‘em better?" he asks.

The dizziness increases. You laugh him off and retrieve the pasta to finish draining the water with more caution than he'd bothered to employ and then drop the noodles into the sauce, all while Peter watches and blows on his fingers.

"Hold them back under the water," you plead.

"That makes them hurt worse."

"It draws the heat out.

"I think that's an old wives tale."

"You're an old wives tale."

"And you're the height of maturity, babe."

You pull garlic bread from the oven and plate out the pasta. Peter retrieves Aunt May from the living room, at first reluctant and then impressed by the spread.

May says an awfully heartfelt thank you afterwards and holds your cheek in her hand. You fight back messy tears the whole time. You're not sure you've ever been so stupid happy.

-

Peter thinks you're adorable.

You usually are, but right now is definitely a new peak. You're heavy lidded, lying on the sofa with your calves in his lap, hands pushed under your face while you watch TV. His eyes keep straying to the slip of skin exposed where your shirt has ridden up, a silver of skin, the hint of your hip.

His hand smooths slow, long lines up your calf.

"Pasta hit you hard, huh?" he asks.

"I'm fine," you murmur.

"You're food coma-ing."

"A little. Sorry," you admit, looking at him over the hill of your shoulder bashfully.

He shakes his hand. Your leg is warm under his touch. "Don't be."

You stare at him for a long moment. He tries not to wither under it. With a soft look in your eyes you sit up, hair ruffled from lying down. He wants to smooth it down but you're already vying for his hand, pulling it into your lap. You turn it over and push your fingertips into the skin just beneath where the burn, already faded, starts, careful enough to make his chest ache.

"I can't believe you did this."

"It wasn't on purpose."

Your legs are thrown over his lap, effectively trapping him. He can't find it in him to mind, especially when you bring his hand up to your mouth and kiss the tips of his fingers.

"You know," you say, looking at them again, "I could've swore your burns were much worse than this."

"I think your mind played tricks on you," he says, feeling very guilty.

"Me too," you say, threading your fingers in the gaps of his. "At least I can do this without hurting you."

"I don't think you could hurt me, burned or not."

"No, I don't think I could."

He reaches out to smooth down your hair. Your eyes close.

"What movie are we gonna watch?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes.

"Can't you choose? I hate deciding."

"That's such a typical boyfriend… thing," you finish weakly. "Sorry."

"Is that true?" he asks, beaming. "What's a boyfriend thing? To be indecisive?"

You look pointedly at his shoulder. "To make… to make the girlfriend choose. Not that you're my boyfriend. Sorry."

He picks his words very carefully when he speaks next. "Do you think of me as your boyfriend?"

"No, of course not. Sorry. I'm sorry, I just… well." You go to take your hand from his and he latches on tighter. "You know, in high school, my friends always complained that their boyfriend's made them pick and then they'd. Be at a crossroads. Of sorts."

He feels bad for putting you through it but he wants to ask the right way.

"So if I was your boyfriend," he starts, hand hovering just in front of your face. You look at him as his fingertips guide your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes. "I'd have to be the decision maker?"

"No, I mean. I like making decisions. Okay," you correct yourself at his skeptical expression, "I don't. I hate making decisions. But if you wanted me to, I would."

"Yeah?" he asks smugly.

You clock on and fall flat on your back, away from him. "You're horrible," you say to his ceiling. You bring your hands up to cover your face. "You're so mean."

He hikes up on his knees and begins the short crawl toward you, one leg sliding between yours. He kneels, pulling your hands from your face as he leans over you, your faces parallel. You look scared.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" he asks, voice quiet. "No more unnecessary words at the end of letters. Please? You'll be saving me loads of money," he loads up on the humour, hoping to ease the unease in your expression, "bics are costing me a fortune."

"You wanna be my boyfriend?" you ask.

He smiles at you, crooked, one side higher than the other, as he puts your hands down near his waist. You hold onto his sides as he playfully caresses your arms.

"Desperately," he says, not quite kidding. "I know it won't be easy. Actually, I know it's gonna be really, really hard. I know that. But I honestly can't see it going a different way, for us."

You stare at him. He loses his nerve, realises he's cornered you.

"I mean, it can. If you don't want this, I understand why."

You frown. "I want this."

"You do?"

"I like you," you say, your hands tightening on his waist.

"Can I get that in writing?"

"You're really handsome. And lovely, caring and thoughtful and smart."

He squeezes your skin where his hands are circled around your elbows. "But?" he asks, hearing the hesitation in your voice.

"You could have any girl you want."

"I want you."

You toy with the hem of his shirt. "I don't get why."

"Sweetheart," he says, word chased with a nervous laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Peter."

"What? Please, explain it to me, why wouldn't I want you? You're so, so, so beautiful, and you're sweet, and you're brilliant and you're kind. All the nice things you see in me I see in you." He trails a hand up and rests it over your heart, spreading his fingers wide. "You have the prettiest voice I've ever heard and the laugh to match, and I don't care how weird or silly you think you are," he says with a tenacity, hand moving to your face. "I don't care. I want you."

You blink at him. He feels quickly embarrassed as the silence stretches.

"I don't think I'll be enough," you admit. He's upset you, he realises in horror, your voice all strung out and your eyes glossy.

"You are," he says gently. "You are. You're enough. You're more than enough."

A lazy tear escapes your eyelashes, carves a slow line down your skin. He wipes it away.

"Don’t cry, baby. Everything's okay. I promise, it's okay."

"I really like you," you say, chest rising with a cruel sigh.

"I like you, too," he says.

You bite your lip as another tear wells, falls, seeping into your hairline.

"You wanna be my boyfriend?" you ask again.

The awful pit in his stomach eases as you smile and catch his forearms in your hands. He can feel every brush of every fingertip, can hear the happy edge to your rugged inhales.

"Yes," he says, the word barely out as you wrap your arms around his sides and bring him down on top of you, face over his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you in turn and breathes you in indulgently.

"On one condition," he says, weary of your trembling chest.

"What condition?"

"Will you try to calm down?" he implores into the side of your head. "You're way too pretty for all these tears."

You pull him closer until there's no more room. He presses his lips to your face. The room fills with the sound of your laughter as he mouths a line of tiny kisses along your cheekbone, holding the back of your head so you can't escape. You don't want to, giggling as the last of your tears ebbs, worse when his other hand finds the skin of your hip. He pulls away for confirmation and you give a small nod.

His hand explores the soft skin of your tummy and side before he cups the curve of your waist, tentative, fingers skipping over goosebumps. His lips are tingling, little tiny pinpricks of heat and a floating feeling of pleasure when you relax beneath him. He wipes the lingering dampness of your tears with the back of his hand, careful as he collects the wetness from your eyelashes.

He knows he should say something here. Whatever it is, you can feel it, he thinks, because your expression grows impossibly softer and prettier and lighter, you're a beam of light in the dark room, your kiss a ray of sun as he dives back in.

-

Peter Parker has his hand under your shirt. And he's your boyfriend.

You're surprised you can still breathe.

His kiss is saccharine sweet, honey smooth and just as cloying. All you can feel is his touch, his big hand pressed over your ribs, his lips slotted against yours and his nose bumping your nose as he moves.

Every part of your body is warm. Your fingers are loose where they rest against the line of his neck.

His lips shine with your spit as he pulls away.

"Is this okay? Do you like it?"

You nod and move upwards searchingly for his mouth. He chuckles but evades, rubbing your face, placating you.

"Come on, pretty girl, you have to talk to me."

"I like it," you insist, again pushing up.

"But what do you like?"

"Is it complicated? I like when you kiss me."

"Teach me how to do it the way you like it," he insists.

"I like it this way," you say, and you're pleading now. "Kiss me, please. Plea-" your begging gets cut off as he dips down, touching his mouth to yours softly.

"Where do you want my hands?" he asks, the words sending little vibrations into your lips.

You suck in a ragged breath. "Higher," you whisper.

His fingers brush the bottom of your bra. "Here?"

"Higher," you repeat, lifting your chin. You kiss him fervently over his bottom lip as a wave of chills ripples over your body as his hand settles over your chest.

He's charmingly careful as he massages your breast through that last layer of fabric. You reach down to pull your shirt up over your chest, rumpled at your collarbone, to cover his hand with your own. He breaks your kiss to look, soft brown hair pushed into your chin.

You drag his hand against your bra, move it up an inch, then two. Then you drop your hand and let him do the rest, holding your breath as he pushes the tight fabric off of your tits.

You can't see his face as he touches you, vision all filled up by the top of his head, but you have a pretty good idea of how he's feeling by the way he touches you, careful but not shy, fingers brushing over your chest. The pad of his thumb rubs against your nipple in little circles that send tight bolts of pleasure deep into your abdomen.

"So pretty," he murmurs. You throw your head back and take a deep breath. He looks up at you and grins like he's been given the winning lottery numbers. "You know how pretty you are?"

"Pete," you whisper.

His mouth finds your throat. He kisses down, down, sucking the skin between his teeth in little bruising nips. Your hands find his hair and you wriggle, legs shifting to combat the heat growing in your centre as he works your skin. He skips over the bunched up fabric of your – his – shirt, plants a firm kiss in the valley of your chest and follows it down like a river, half moons of contact, shimmering. He kisses the swell of your breast and your fingers push deeper into the soft waves of his hair in response, a short pant of air escaping you, and then his lips are around the bead of your nipple.

He worships your chest until you're heaving with the force of your breaths. His hands hold you still. You whine as he sucks and twists and swirls, trying to drag his mouth from your chest and back to your lips. "Peter," you say, voice laden with fondness, with longing. "Peter."

He releases your nipple with a lewd little pop and takes a last, scratching bite of the side of your breast. You laugh and your chest wobbles and he gives you the most beatific smile he's ever given you.

"You have nice-" he starts. You cut him off, hand clasping the front of his shirt and tugging him down towards you. His smile presses to your smile.

Long dizzy moments of time. You don't know how long passes before he's slowing down, kissing the curve of your neck in lazy bursts with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You twist the hair behind his neck around your finger, almost listless in the aftermath of his affection.

He's tucked your shirt down over your chest just enough to hide your modesty, though the idea of it seems silly now that your skin knows his touch.

"Peter?"

He lifts his head from your neck. "Hmm?"

"We should go to bed."

"No," he says, the syllable dragging.

"I'm not having your Aunt May find her nephew like this. Or me."

He fixes your shirt and tucks himself back into your neck. "Done."

"Peter," you scold with no real heat behind it.

He shifts his weight on top of you, digging his hands into your back. "Five more minutes."

You cover his ear with your hand and close your eyes. Fine. Five more minutes.

<3

there will be one more part ! <3

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

tasm taglist @pomminine @isabelleonabicycle @decafcoffew@runawaywithmyghost@joebobisachickenfart @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah

#the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfiction #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #Webb-verse #tasm smut

[admin-in-residence]

Mystic Mystery’s (Chapter 3)

Marc Spector X Platonic OC & Steven Grant X Platonic OC

Chapter Summary: Olive finally gets drawn into this mess for good- and Marc Spector realizes she’s not going to give up very easily.

“I didn’t know you had children Mr. Grant-“

Marc was just about to lose it- nosy old ladies, reckless annoying teenagers- (‘ I’m 21 you know. I’m legally an adult so you can’t tell me what to do-‘) and on top of it all the whole mess that he’d just had to pull them out of because Steven kept insisting on butting in.

”Oh Steven’s not my father- he’s my cousin, twice removed on my mother’s side. And removed once more- so technically not cousins.” The teen-no adult in question chimed in cheerfully.

”Oh-“ The lady was taken back a brief look of confusion came over her face.

“Real complicated mess he got into, couldn’t believe the affair when it all happened. Sleeping with Great Aun-“ Marc swiftly cut her off by shoving his hand over her mouth.

The woman gaped at them in absolute horror.

”She tells lots of stories.” He faked a smile. “Overactive imagination…”

“Oh dear- my grandson is quite the same. They never quite grow out of it do they?” She nervously replied.

Great- Steven would be an outcast from his neighbors thanks to this kid’s big mouth.

“No they don’t.” Marc smirked, glancing over to the furious girl.

The apartment elevator thankfully chimed in and Marc tugged on her shoulder drawing her away before she could spout off any other nonsense, but she still had the nerve to give an over exaggerating goodbye. She was going to get Steven into trouble if she came up with any more of her silly stories.

”Come on, you have to admit the look on her face was hilarious .” Olive rolled her eyes. “You're as bad as Wong honestly, he never appreciates me or Stephen’s jokes.”

“Fortunately I’m not here to entertain you, so maybe you should go back to making jokes with Stephen. Who is he, your dad?” Marc asked.

Olive frowned when he mentioned the name, a brief flash of guilt overcoming her face. A moment later and she was back to her overly annoying smile.

”A friend-“ She answered quickly. “Good save towards the end with that truck. I still can’t believe Steven tried to throw the gun.”

Marc thought back to the past events. Once Marc was absolutely sure he was in control he’d had the girl- Olive, use one of her weird magic portal’s to bring them back to London. It saved him more time then he’d initially thought he’d take away from Steven, but Steven would still wake up tomorrow and realize that it was Sunday.

Unlocking the door and letting the girl in, he took the Scarab out of his pocket. Blood was still stained upon the sleek golden tool.

“Here- take this to the sink and wash it.” Marc ordered.

The girl gave a grimace and glared at him when he tossed it into her hands, and swiftly rushed over to the kitchen sink. Repeating ‘gross, gross, gross.” under her breath.

Taking in the appearance of Steven’s apartment he was grateful that he didn’t have to take care of too much, his clothes could be dumped in the laundry and taken back to the storage unit. He’d tuck the cellphone back in its spot in the apartment after the girl left and he could listen to Layla’s messages.

“Aw no-“ The girls voice caught his attention.

“Don’t tell me you managed to break the scarab.” Marc groaned.

”No- it’s….your fish!” The girl sounded heartbroken.

Marc turned to the fish tank where Steven’s pet fish would normally be swimming about- except…it wasn’t swimming any more.

“Shit.”

…

She couldn’t believe it.

She was a glorified house pet stuck inside a 9 by 9 cubicle. Sure she had a key and could come and go- but what was the point of having a super cool Sorcerer helping you if you shove her into a storage unit.

“ Stay here and I’ll come back after Steven’s shift.” Olive mimicked.

They’d come to the storage unit to stow away the Scarab and Marc had gone back to his apartment after leaving behind a key to the storage unit.

It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, she was short on funds and it wasn’t like she could just run back home…Stephen and Wong wouldn’t let her out of their sights if she even tried to sneak back into the Sanctum. So instead she’d reluctantly accepted a key and had come and gone to the Unit to sleep.

Marc’s silly little cot was going to mess up her back.

“Better off sleeping on the concrete.” Olive muttered to herself.

The storage unit was a bit eerie with the mirror-like walls surrounding her, but she’d spent most of her free time sightseeing so she could avoid sitting around. She’d also taken the time to reinforce her cloaking spell, hoping that she hadn’t leaked too much energy with that healing spell on her arm. (And wasn’t she lucky she hadn’t grown 2 bone’s when she’d healed it?)

“Pesky brat-“

Oh right-

How could she forget the lurking Moon God that had decided to bug her since he couldn’t bug Steven.

“I’m not in the mood for your attitude today- so if you’ve got nothing nice to say…maybe just don't say anything at all.” Olive groaned. “You’ve always got your feathers in a twist- and you don’t even have feathers!”

“You dare sit around- you don’t know what’s even happening right now! Harrow will steal it-“

Olive sat up then.

“What are you talking about-“ Olive asked.

“The bag you fool! Check the bag!” Khonshu screamed.

The one thing she’d refused to do since she’d stuck around the storage unit was go through Marc Spector’s stuff. She wasn’t that kind of person, nor did she want to unearth any of his dirty laundry, figuratively or literally.

“THE DUFFLE BAG- “ Khonshu’s voice pierced at her skull.

Swinging off the cot she’d knelt down to the black duffle bag and swiftly unzipped the top. Clothes- a license…

No scarab-

“No- no he put it in here…” Olive murmured.

She thought back to the previous day- just grateful to finally have a place to sleep. Marc had been searching for the extra storage key-

He must have forgotten to put the Scarab away.

“Steven has the scarab-“

…

Just his luck-

How on earth did he even get into these messes.

First he’d found out he missed his date after somehow mixing up the days, then his beloved one-finned wonder had simply regrown his fin. (Of course Steven knew this couldn’t really be Gus.) And to top it off that creepy man from the mountains was in his museum.

And now- now this was the worst.

Jackals- bloody Jackals were chasing after him.

Fleeing into the bathroom Steven watched in horror as the lights began to flicker- the door was caving in under the weight of the beasts attacks. The mirror man was walking towards him.

The what!?

“Steven- you’ve got to give me control. I can save us.” Mirror-Steven said calmly.

How was he so calm!?

“Oh gods- I’m going to die- I’m going to die.” Steven muttered.

“Calm down!” Someone grabbed his shoulder. “Your not going to die.”

Whirling around he found the nice girl from the village standing beside him. Behind her a strange sparky circle showed a strange room surrounded by hazy mirrors. Before he could get a good glimpse however- a whisk of her hand and the sparks closed and fizzled out.

“ Steven-“ Mirror-Steven called again. “You can’t let her do this alone-“

In Steven’s eyes it seemed the girl could do anything from heal broken bones to appear out of thin air, why couldn’t she take on a jackal on her own.

“Steven!” Mirror-Steven yelled.

The door was nearly broken open-

The girl lowered into a defensive stance and raised her hands up. More of those sparks appeared along with weird- were those runes!?

“Give me control-“ The mirror yelled once more.

So he did.

…

“You just had to keep a hold of that stupid Scarab!” Olive screeched squirming under his grip.

The jackals had broken down the door, but Marc had grabbed hold of it it, unleashing all of his anger and rage unto the creature. Olive could only stand by and watch in horror, magic fizzling out as Marc destroyed the jackal- and the bathroom around them.

“What were you thinking?” Marc- now unsuited- growled. His hand dug into her shoulder where he’d grabbed onto it to drag her out of the bathroom. She struggled more trying to shimmy out of his grips- his fingers were digging in harshly and it hurt. She managed to tug out of his grasp pushing his chest back away from her and he stumbled a few steps.

She was stronger than she looked.

“Khonshu said-“

“I had it handled!” Marc screamed.

“No you don’t!” Olive screamed back. “This isn’t fair to Steven! He was terrified!”

“Then. Go. Home!”

“The girl will stay.”

Khonshu stood behind them, going unnoticed by the two’s argument. The two were drawing closer and closer to fighting one another instead of focusing on the actual enemy. But the God had seen the avatar- he couldn’t risk him ruining everything. The girl had leapt into action and her ability to take them from one place to the next was a welcome addition. He could use her and her powers until her grew tired of her or his avatar could prove to him he could handle things on her own.

“What do you mean!? Your the one who told her she wasn’t needed, that she was annoying, a useless Wizard!” Marc exclaimed. The girl let out a frustrated growl.

“I’m a Sorcerer! And, If I hadn’t shown up, Steven wouldn’t have given up control.” Olive yelled. “What would have happened then- how would you feel if he got hurt!?”

“You don’t know anything about Steven!”

“ENOUGH. ” The building shook with Khonshu’s rage. “I will not repeat myself. You will return the scarab to the Storage Unit, the girl will stay. By both you and the useless worm. If you mess this up- I’ll kill you all.”

Marc stood still taking in heavy breaths. He glared at the girl standing in front of him, her eyes filled with equal amounts of anger. Everything was falling apart- he’d had control before she had come around. She was ruining everything- her and her mystical little witch powers. She would ruin everything for Steven if she stuck around- but he couldn’t deny one thing.

There was something else in her eyes- something he recognized.

Determination.

This girl wasn’t giving in- and now with Khonshu’s permission she had an in- and she wouldn’t let it go anytime soon.

Tag List: @xoxo-mylove @mirkwoodshewolf @mahaloapollo

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector x oc #steven grant x reader #steven grant x oc #marvel moon knight #moon knight x oc

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

—————————————

Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

-------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

-------------------------------------------------

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What��� What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one! 

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave. 

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.” 

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you. 

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh. 

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

 “Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” 

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant. 

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.” 

 He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

 “Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.  

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up. 

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone. 

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--” 

 “Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face. 

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” 

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly. 

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted. 

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.” 

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion. 

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall. 

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” 

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little. 

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.” 

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.” 

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly. 

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered. 

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up. 

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded. 

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you. 

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke. 

“Good point.” She chuckled. 

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her. 

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock. 

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU. 

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately. 

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.  

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him. 

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you. 

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs. 

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes. 

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again. 

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out. 

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen. 

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer. 

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head. 

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it. 

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles. 

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it. 

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you. 

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?” 

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?” 

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly. 

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?” 

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.” 

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.” 

 The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest. 

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist. 

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up. 

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle. 

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile. 

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.” 

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment. 

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly. 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk. 

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

 “Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually.  At her pace, he reminded himself. 

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats. 

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile. 

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly. 

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.” 

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. 

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

[redrobin-detective]

From a young age, Jack Fenton wanted a life of adventure and excitement. Working on his family’s quiet farm in the middle of nowhere never sat right with him. Late one night, he sees something he can’t explain in the woods which sparks a lifelong passion for the supernatural. He worked day and night at various odd jobs once he was old enough in order to save up money for school. Pa and him had a huge row when he saw how much money Jack had saved over the years. That money could’ve bought new equipment, could have put food in his sisters’ mouths. But Jack held fast, he loved his family but he needed to find his own way and he wouldn’t find it here. As soon as he got his acceptance letter for his college of choice, he left the farm and never looked back.

Rooming with Vlad Masters was a struggle at first but his roommate’s intense desire to prove Jack wrong about ghosts eventually sparked a friendly continuing argument which just became friendly in general. Jack was too loud, too enthusiastic for everyone else, almost always the biggest and broadest guy in the room. Jack first met Maddie during college orientation, or rather he met her bountiful bushy red hair 3 rows up that his eyes kept wandering to. He met her properly when they got into an intense discussion of the use of the supernatural in fiction during literature class. Girls had never registered for Jack before, always seemed less interesting than his research. But Maddie, she like a revelation in and of herself. They continued their debate after class, into the dining hall where Vlad somehow got roped in. They exchanged phone numbers and continued their theories long into the night. They never really stopped.

Maddie was like the campfires Pa used to make when he was young. She was small and contained but with an all-encompassing energy that warmed everyone around her. He finally met his match with her, her enthusiasm encouraged his and vice versa. Her mind thought differently from Jack but in a complementary way, he did his best thinking when she was there to bounce ideas off of. As close as he and Vlad were, sometimes the whole world disappeared when Maddie was around. Vlad proclaimed his desire to date Maddie on a couple of occasions, asking Jack to back him up. Jack never knew how to answer, it should be okay as long as the two of them were happy and he and Maddie could stay friends. But he couldn’t just ignore that chemistry he felt when Jack’s eyes met hers.

 Vlad’s accident occurred not long afterwards, he was stuck in the hospital and forced to drop out of school their last semester. The guilt ate away at Jack but Maddie made things better. He danced with her for their last college dance, kissed her for the first time as they threw their caps into the air for graduation. Being with her was like being whole for the first time in his life. When he got down on his knee and asked her to be his lab partner for life, it was the best thing he’d ever done. They had something of a shotgun wedding, neither of them had two nickels to rub together both coming from poor families and a load of student debt. Jack couldn’t afford to rent a suit so he wore his hazmat suit, figuring Mads would get a kick out of it. When she walked down the aisle with her lab goggles on, he knew he’d found the one.

They moved to Amity Park, a peaceful but still bustling suburb an hour outside Chicago. In their research, they’d discovered several anomalies in and around the area that suggested it was a hot bed of paranormal activity. They bought a house and worked on making it their own. Maddie initially hadn’t wanted children, wanting to focus more on their work. Jack, however, had come from a big family and had wanted kids even when he’d been a kid. Many long discussions and time to settle and soon they had a beautiful daughter. He asked to name her Jasmine. His mother had loved the smell and kept it around the house growing up, even years later, the scent calmed him. Looking at the precious girl in his arms, he knew that she would be his new home.

Danny had been a little bit of a surprise. Him and Mads were content with their chatty, precocious daughter. They hadn’t even discussed having a second when they found out she was pregnant several months in. She hadn’t been symptomatic, Maddie fretted the rest of the pregnancy, worried she’s inadvertently harmed their child by exposing herself to chemicals. But everything turned out alright, Danny was born just fine, if a solid pound smaller than Jasmine. While Jazzy had wailed and wailed, Danny was a quiet baby, instead choosing to look around with wide, curious eyes. When he gripped Jack’s finger and brought it into his little mouth, Jack was smitten.

He loved being a scientist, a husband, but Jack especially loved being a father. Maddie said he never quite grew out of being a kid and he agreed with her. The sound of his daughters delighted screams as he ran around the house with her on his shoulders. The beaming smile Danny gave when Jack held him up high so he could be closer to the night sky. He loved his work, an obsession he was more than willing to admit, but his heart truly lied with his family. Jack could have lived an eternity in those early days when his children looked up at him like he could do no wrong. Of course, it wouldn’t last. Children grew up, socialized and learned that ghost hunting wasn’t the cool, legitimate profession they’d believed. His kids loved them but there was a separation that hadn’t existed before, a disconnect of a passionate farm boy searching for the unknown to modern kids who didn’t understand what it meant to to crave understanding.

Maddie was the one who shopped the idea of working on the portal again. Jack had been skeptical at first, it had been his dream but after what happened with Vlad and with the kids still living in the house... But Vlad was fine now, on his way to being a millionaire the last Jack heard and his thirst for knowledge couldn’t be quenched. It took years to draw up the schematics and begin building. The process was slow, made slower by Maddie going back to school for her second degree in psychics, by losses of funding, taking shady government contracts to put food on the table. When he saw the sad, hungry looks on his kids’ faces when they had discount TV dinners, he finally understood his father’s anger over Jack selfishly hoarding money for college. But years of blood, sweat and tears saw the fruition of their dreams completed.

The portal hadn’t worked right away to his immense disappointment only to miraculous start up when him and Maddie weren’t looking. Danny started acting sick immediately after, enough to scare the hell out of Jack. Visions of Vlad’s ecto-scarred face and the sounds of him vomiting up blood and ectoplasm haunted him. Not his Danny, not his sweet boy. But Danny recovered and things seemingly went back to normal. They say hindsight is 20/20 but Jack will curse himself until the day he died for not seeing the signs until it was spelled out for him. He knew Maddie and him were unconventional but he tried to foster love and trust in their home. The idea that his son didn’t think he could come to them for the dramatic changes the portal had done to him, that he was scared of them. Jack wept heartily at the thought of how he’d failed, that he’d been the sort of prejudiced, uninterested father like his Pa had been.

So he’d gotten down on his knees, making himself smaller and less threatening to his boy - he was so tall now, when had that happened - and asked for another chance. Danny, always too kind for his own good, forgave them. He said it before Jack believed he meant it but it was the biggest relief he’d ever felt in his life to have the opportunity to make things right. It was hard, erasing decades of biases. To not jump when Danny acted a bit too ghostly, to not to correct him when his boy made some comment on ghosts that Jack disagreed with. But he listened and he learned and even though his heart was already fit to burst, he found more love in his heart for his son. His son, who carried a heavy burden with dignity and grown into twice the man Jack was when he hadn’t been looking. Jazz too was paving her own way forward with the same zeal and intelligence that Jack admired so in Maddie. 

His wife, his friend, his lab partner for life stood by his side as their children left home to change the world. When he was young, Jack dreamed of excitement, of never-ending exploration and fearsome battles. He got all of that, and more, but he also found something else. Jack found people who loved him for all his eccentricities, who he felt free to be as loud as silly as he desired. He raised two beautiful children who he loved more every day and who he knew loved in return. He wished he could tell his younger self that while excitement put hair on your chest, his Ma and Pa had been right in that family was something worth investing in. Jack Fenton made staggering advancements to the field of ectology over the years but his greatest accomplishment, should you ask him, would be living his best life with the woman of his dreams and their children.

#I've been drinking Love Jack Fenton juice the last few days #idk i just think he's neat #canon overeggaerates (as it does with most of its characters for comedy) but underneath he's a good dude #I feel like I blacked out and came to with this written #I have been typing for 40 minutes straight #I should probably put this blathering bs under a readmore #what the hell is this? is it a fic? a headcanon? #Jack Fenton is a good man and I will fight anyone who says otherwise

[dynyamight]

I've seen a lot of people do it, so if you are up for it~ Ship your moots!

FINALLY. THE AWAITED LIST OF MOOTS IS COMPLETE. sorry this took forever anon!!

now, this is going to be long & i will try not to overexplain my ship pairings. did i take time to think about each paring? yes. but, will they be serious? no. they are dumb & silly.

let the crack pairings begin <3!!

@dekusneakers x BAKUGOU & TODOROKI now you would think? sneakers in a throuple? how come? mmm simple. i couldn’t choose one for her so she gets both. the more the merrier. besides, she deserves love from both sides, kisses on both cheeks. one begrudgingly smooch & one icy kith. as a deku kin, she’s completely satisfied. you’re welcome

@izusun x AIZAWA & ORCA similarly, i can’t have my bestie here with just ONE babe. so, i thought why don’t we get a fatherly figure & a dad bod to give her all the love she needs. so yes, bestie, you two deserves hugs at both sides of you. a twiggy one & a muscly one. the sun needs some shade, & that shade is these men.

@midnightpirates x SUKUNA he’s a mass murderer !! you can’t— oh, but i can. you see, yanna here hates mahito & guess who was the one to fuck up his shit. ah, that’s right, it was sukuna. two mahito an/tis sitting in a tree <3 it’s the perfect match made in hell.

@goth-himbo-dabi x DOCTOR WHO once again, people might wonder: why not dabi? my answer? it’s because my bby here finds the twiggy men attractive. i know, bummer. & you can’t get any twiggy-er than david tennant & matt smith. but which doctor? all of them.

@minisheku x KAMINARI i see you simp for his dunce face. & honestly, who wouldn’t?? also, i originally put sheepku,, but that’s ,, a bit weird. but, here’s the solution. you OWN a sheepku, with kaminari. ah yes, a modern day family unit. & he can entertain you, as well as be a source of electricity for your drawing tablet !! resources !!

@oyavaski x EN you said he was hot literally in your tags earlier in a reblog. so, i am simply gifting you water to quench your thirst. may you two meet in afo, & fall in love in the subconscious of deku’s mind. will deku feel awks? yeah. but like pfft, he’s so whipped for bkg, he’ll forget you two chilling in the corner of his thoughts.

@okworstie x GOJO & WATARI i never have to look up the gojo tag, like ever. because you’re always plastering his face all over my timeline. & yes, this is a good thing. but, the same applies to watari. i have never even seen bakudiez, or whatever it’s called, but apparently he’s aro, & there’s a moth man, & tape hits post limit thursday’s? yeah just keep both, mimi.

@rrandomtthings x AN/TI as one of fellow loyal, amazing bkdks, i think it’s only fitting that you find true love with a bkdk an/ti. create the banti we seek in our community. the enemies to lovers trope is in your blood, written in your deku genes. so, i dedicate the banti movement with this small offering of a ship. may you find diamonds on the minecraft server & build a diamond cabin.

@believeyourgalaxy x ITADORI you two are such cinnamon rolls !!!! super friendly. super kind. super relatable. & together, you guys can pin over megumi. maybe hopefully, sam can help itadori with his low iq brain to finally get together with megumi. because damn, sam can be like “this is my boyfriend, itadori. & this is itadori’s boyfriend, megumi.”

@wrensknight x SHIRAKUMO i didn’t even know it was oboro birthday, until you not only made a public post about to, but made art for him. cloud boy needs that partner to respect & cherish him entirely. & you just treat him so right?? draw him so good?? i hope you can go cloud watching & then later, ride the clouds with him. till death do you guys uh,, you know,,

@b1m0 x MIDORIYA you can't stand when he gets injured, let alone reckless & trying to save the world, when he should literally be saving his own ass. but, that just means you care about him DEEPLY. plus, you both are wholesome people. obviously two cinnamon rolls make a whole bakery !! & who doesn't want a bakery ?? i sure do! wehjw idk why i brought the point here, but just know you two make sense.

@mysterionrising x RENGOKU & VIGILANTE DEKU it’s that enemies to lovers trope once again !! for someone who wrote him off as annoying the first seconds she met him, kenny sure flipped over to the stan side. ever since then, i can only see kenny when i see rengoku. but, you know who else reminds me of kenny. vigilante deku. it’s super fruity that you have an entire bomb playlist for him. so keep him too !!

@kamishima x KIRISHIMA you are the biggest kiri simp i have ever met. you basically ship kiri with anyone who makes him happy. though, you do have a lot of ships, but with kiri it’s different. & so, i was thinking ‘mmm, if bug ships kiri with so many people?? shouldn’t she ship him with HERSELF?’ boom. suddenly both kiri & bug are happy, with a lovely home. my work here is done.

@ckatsudon x LAW LIET did i dig through your blog. why yes. & you know what i found? reblogs & tags dedicated to L. he’s best boy. he’s precious. he deserves a better end. an end with you. mmhmm !! because if we rewrote death note, where you were light, i think L & light could have been canon. & that also would make you happy. & the rest of the entire world

@drfox-kinnie x UNIKITTY i don’t even know the show, let alone who unikitty is exactly. but, you reblogged a banner, confirming your love for unikitty. & so, i am of course doing you a big favor !! she’s bubbly, friendly, & passionate just like you !! & bestie, while i may not know nothing about her, i know you love her. so, maybe you two platonically have a wonderful time, adventuring with the other wholesome characters !! also,, is she big enough to travel on? if so, look i got you a cat car!!

@midorree x MINACHAKO i ship you with another ship. why? because i can. besides, you are like my moot who is genuinely a head leader of the minachako ship on my timeline, & you have steadily been converting me?? but, i also noticed that mina AND uraraka have stolen your heart, & you have yet to fight them for it back. i hope you three can go into a brawl & see who can grab each other’s hands fastest.

@kiribakuxkacchakolover x HATSUME YOU HAVE IT AS YOUR TITLE HEADER. like you are literally having a billboard that calls mei your cutie patootie. &, you ask, & you shall receive. i hope you two can be the dorkiest nerds together, & ramble for eons & eons. i hope i’m invited to the transformer wedding you two will have <,3

@balaroo x MIRUKO like before, you too have your interest out in the open in your title header. but, you see, miruko is a total babe, with confidence & ego & with this stride that makes even the most alpha male quiver. you would be a total wife to miruko’s girlboss energy & that’s why this ship totally works.

@quix-mix x FREDDY FAZBEAR my precious lil young moot, i dug into your blog & noticed you enjoy the fnaf games. & mmm are you perhaps wanting to cuddle a certain demonic teddy bear? well, i approve. he'll fall in love, head over heels, with your art, he might not possess you right away !! might. but, listen, you always do enjoy the villains (; i gotchu !!

@lonely-rabbit x LANCE you said we’re moots & i agree, we are. however, i have noooo idea what even are your preferences. so, i went digging. & it’s such a coincidence that we bonded over our voltron trauma, & yet you still continue to simp over lance. &, like i don’t blame you !!! he’ll always be dumb baby & so all i ask is that you love him, for our sake. & sanity.

#star responds #THIS TOOK FOREVER STILL #EVEN WITH MY SHORT EXPLANATIONS #but tadaaaa #the moots have now been complied #& ahajsbkssj i HOPE you all like your pairings. even the dumb ones < #I ALREADY KNOW SOME OF YALL WILL LAUGH LMAOO #otherwise if you want to roast me & what my pairing would be. pls feel free to do so #this was so fun omgg thank you anon for this opportunity!! #anon #moots

[lilxberry]

Fond Of This Dwarf - Thorin Oakenshield

Requested By: @heyitsgarnet​

Hi! I really love your writing! Could I request a Thorin x elf reader who's with the company? He's kind of an doushe to her but then she saves his ass from orcs or something and he's like "oh shit I'm in love." thank yooou! <3

This probably isn’t exactly what you were looking for but I think it’s sweet and does just a good a job. I’m so sorry it took me forever to finish your request, I really wish I could’ve done something for you sooner. Thank you so much for being patient 

Warnings: Probably a bad word somewhere lmao. I guess racism??? Angst. Fluff. Mentions of war and death. Pretty much it, I reckon.

Words: 2,331

Parings: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (x elf reader) (x female reader)

_______________

How on Middle Earth had Gandalf think adding you to a company that consisted of multiple dwarves were a good decision you’ll never quite know. You’re completely certain that the grey wizard knew of the dwarves hatred for elves, of course he knew, definitely explains the precautions he had taken when introducing you to those who you were to travel to the lonely mountain with.

Luckily, that hatred slowly dispersed as time passed during your journey. All the dwarves had eventually taken a liking to you, apart from the ever grouchy, complacently brooding Thorin Oakensheild. Even Dwalin had begun to be a more civilised dwarf towards you, for Valars’ sake!

The first one to show some form of kindness to you were Balin. Obviously, he had reason to be all sorts of rude and crude towards you because of your race but you figured he has witnessed enough hostility within his lifetime so refused to show any when truly nessicary.

Ori had been next. It took some time considering he was under the watchful eyes and influential words of his older brothers. Fílí and Kílí followed after that and before you knew it, they all began to follow suit.

Needless to say, you and Bilbo had no issues from the get-go. In fact, you were and still are joined at the hip. And Gandalf, well, he’s Gandalf. You’re not even sure he can actually hate anything.

The journey had been long and treacherous, but you were getting closer and closer each day, even with each and every hindrance and snag you faced. Running everyday for survival is outright exhausting but utterly needed, which is what you were currently partaking in.

“I spy-“

Ori was swiftly cut off with a collective groan from the company whilst you and Bilbo shared an amused look, no doubt Gandalf had a similar expression across his face at the front of the group.

“Not again, lad, for the love of Mahal, please.” Dwalin grumbled as he pressed his fingers against his forehead as if trying to sooth a forming migraine. Ori visibly deflates and sighs quietly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“No, go on, Ori. I’ll play with you.” He perked up just as quickly as he had been denied moments earlier. He beamed up towards you as he straightened out his posture.

“I spy, with my little eye, something…beginning with…T!”

“Tree.” The company’s response was almost automatic, the answer as clear as daylight.

You and Bilbo chuckled before you both turned your attention to the dwarf beside you once again looking down and ashamed. “Don’t worry, Ori. I’m sure as we get closer to the lonely mountain, we’ll find more things to spy.” Bilbo’s encouragement was so sweet that you just had to jump in and help brighten the young dwarfs sour mood also.

“Definitely. Don’t get me started about the endless possibilities for ‘I spy’ inside Erebor.” Ori smiled his widest smile towards you and the hobbit as the others chuckled. All finding amusement in your merriment of a silly childs’ game. All except one.

“You humour me how you would think I would allow you to step foot inside my mountain.”

All humour, all happiness quickly faded until there were scowling faces amongst everyone. You furrowed your shaped eyebrows and slowed to a stop and burn holes into the back of Thorins’ head. You shook your head and began to walk once more with haste, shouldering the rude dwarf as you pass him and race ahead of the company.

You wouldn’t admit it, not verbally, not so outwardly, but his words and distain towards you hurt, very much so. Even though Thorin has shown nothing but his dislike towards you, you couldn’t help to admire his strong will, his caring side that he had shown his kin, his handsome appearance-

-‘NO! Y/N, stop it!’ You scolded yourself mentally as you shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts just as quickly as they had entered your mind once more. He didn’t like you, not your race at least. He made that more than obvious for you and everyone around you.

You sighed inwardly before slowing your strides, allowing the company to catch up to where you had stormed off. You could hear the scolding the few bold enough to do so were giving Thorin, though you knew that the probability of him actually considering of what they were saying were nought.

Someone, who you presumed to be Gandalf, cleared their throat, noting the proximity between you and the group now they have caught up to your small steps. The silence consumed the company as they all sluggishly dragged their feet as they trudged along, awkwardness surrounding each and every dwarf, once again, all except that stubborn royal pain in the jacksie.

“Out of the way, elf.” He spat the name of your kind with such distain and disgust that your heart panged with an immense pain, your chest tightened, your intake of breath quick and sharp. You felt the burning of tears build up within your eyes as he passed you gruffly but refused to let them fall.

You will NOT seem weak in front of people- no, dwarves- like him. Bilbo caught up to walk beside you and places a gentle, comforting hand on to your forearm, smiling up at you sympathetically. The rest of the walk was silent, that was until you all heard the shrill cry of an orcs horn.

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Your lungs begged for air, every inch of muscle within your body burned and longed for rest. Fatigue was catching up with all of you and fast.

“We cannot run any longer, we must stand our ground!” You couldn’t tell if Dwalin was pleading or trying to be demanding with Thorin and Gandalf, all you knew was that his tone was as brass and harsh as usual.

“We can take them, of do you really have such little faith towards your company, Thorin?!” You huffed, clearly just as agitated and enraged as the others.

Thorin halted immediately and swiftly turned on his heel to face you, a deep, raging fire of hatred filled his gaze. He groaned in aggravation and drew his sword, ensuring the others quickly followed suit. You deeply exhaled through your nose and you spun yourself around to face the oncoming threat as you unshouldered you bow and raising it higher.

You withdrew an arrow from your quiver, quickly lining your body perpendicular towards the enemy and drawing the arrow back towards your cheek, staring down the length of the arrow. You exhaled as you released your firm grip and so, first blood had been drawn.

_______________

It was nearing the end of the gruelling battle but in truth, it was difficult to tell, exhaustion taking over every single one of the company. It felt as though the enemy just kept coming, multiplying as you take a singular orc down.

Blood coated you and the others, mainly that of orcs and Wargs alike, dried and cracked. As you took down yet another enemy, you heaved out a shaky breath, exhaling heavily with a slight groan.

You looked towards the others, all seemingly fairing well, all grouped together, all except, you guessed it, Thorin. Two orcs atop their Wargs brought the dwarf down on to the hard, filthy ground, defenceless, weapon astray. He crawled backwards, even that looked like such a struggle for him though.

The Wargs snarled and growled as they closed in on the drained dwarf, the orcs straddled upon their fur coated backs grinning wickedly. As quick as a whippet, you powered through your own exhaustion and pain and sprinted towards the predators closing in on their prey.

You released a cry of anger and frustration as you withdrew your elven sword from its place on your back before bringing it down on to the beasts head, emitting a pained whimper before it fell harshly against the floor, body now limp and lifeless.

The orc that once sat atop the dead creature stood from where it landed next to its Wargs’ corpse with a seething anger and charged towards you. You swiftly cut him down and turned your focus to the final orc/Warg duo all the while Thorin looked on with wide eyes and bated breath, watching you with a new found admiration.

Almost as quickly as the last, you had taken down the enemy and collapsed down to your knees, exhaustion washing over you completely. Your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you inhaled and exhaled heavily in repeat.

“Are you…okay lass?” Balin approached you cautiously as the others watched on, concern and their own tiredness evident on their faces. All you could offer in response was a single nod of your head.

Thorin snapped out of his reverie and slowly came to a stand, but before he could proceed to close the gap between the two of you, you raised to your own feet and began to walk away from the group. “We should keep moving. No doubt another pack or two is a day behind them.”

“Yes, Miss Y/N makes a valid argument. Come on.” Gandalf had gruffly agreed with the statement made from over your shoulder. And with that, the company tiredly trudged further along, leaving behind the corpses of their slain foes and the final dwarves’ disdain towards you.

_______________

“We make camp here.” Thorin’s authoritative command travelled throughout the clearing within trees and into the ears of the company. Pained grunts, relieved sighs and heavy knapsacks thudding against the ground were Thorin’s confirmation that he had been heard.

He dragged his feet as he walked over to lazily slump against the bark of a sturdy tree, exhaling heavily through his nose and closing his eyes, basking in the knowledge that he lives to see a new day. His eyes barely reopen as he scans across each and every member of the company. Or at least, nearly every member.

He luckily caught a smidge of your form disappearing past the treeline and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Surely you were tired? You had to be from all the walking and fighting you’ve done. Why would you head off away from the others?

With a huff of air, he pushed himself from his leaning position against the sturdy trunk and headed off towards the direction you disappeared in. Thorin kept himself quiet as he walked weaved passed trees, his strides small and light footed. He came to a slight clearing which was perfectly illuminated in the moons light, a heavenly glow across the small, vacant area.

And then he spotted you.

Sat precisely in the centre of it all, eyes softly closed, eyelashes resting on your cheek ever so delicately, the light breeze brushing your hair back from your face, a face that, even though is covered by the dried and cracked crimson smears, looked fair and filled with serenity, a calmness that was affect Thorin in many ways.

He had become so entranced that he hadn’t realised that he walked out into the opening further as he stared, stared at someone who he considered the enemy for far too long, at someone who he now admired, at someone who has kindled a newfound feeling deep within him.

“Are you going to keep standing around like some lemon or are you going to join me?” the sudden sound of your voice actually caused the dwarf to jump ever so slightly, taken off guard. You peeked an eye open, finding the situation amusing at a miniscule amount.

Thorin cleared his throat and wiped his hands down his front with a tinge of nervousness before making his way over and lowering himself beside you, arms rested atop his knees. A silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable passed before he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The simple two-word statement accompanied by his deep, gruff voice caused your eyes to widen slightly and snap your head towards the dwarf to your right. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry. For how I acted before. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you based purely off of who, or rather what, they are. I’m greatly disappointed with myself. Please forgive my ignorance.”

You were flabbergasted. THE Thorin Oakenshield, a prideful and stubborn dwarf, was apologising, hell, even begging, for your forgiveness. Thorin must’ve thought you were trying to imitate that of a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing multiple times as you searched for the right words to proceed.

You recomposed yourself impossibly fast before flashing the sheepish, nerve wracked dwarf in royal blue and furs a kind, sweet, small smile. “It is okay, Master dwarf. It isn’t as if you had no base reason for your hatred towards my kind. Hopefully, like the rest of the company, we may put our bad blood behind us and move forward working together.”

Thorins’ sigh of relief was large and fairly loud, causing for a small giggle to pass your lips. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he flashed you the smallest, microscopic of smiles. “I’m glad. Oh, and thank you. For saving me.”

You gazed at him with such a soft and gentle expression that he was certain he could have melted at the sight. “Your most certainly welcome.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his hair covered cheek before ever so gently laying your head atop his broad shoulder. His whole body tensed at the actions before slowly unwinding, leaving him red in the face and bashfully playing with his fingers.

A peaceful, comforting silence quickly engulfed you two as you sat side by side, his arm now loosely wrapped around your waist, basking in the beautiful surrounding area. You weren’t sure how long you two had sat within each other’s embrace, but you weren’t one to rush a nice thing when it presented itself, so you continued in your contented bliss with a dwarf you had grown quite fond of. Fond of indeed.

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AAYYYYOOOO IS THIS AN UPLOAD??! 

That’s right ya dang bunch of cutie pies, I ain’t dead

My uploading is still extremely slow but I thought, since I’m close to being on top with my college work, I would finally finish this fic

It’s weird and probably makes no sense but it’s the best I can do with the amount of stress I’m enduring ‘cause of college so bare with me peeps

Anywho, I hope you enjoy reading this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

#thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin's Company #thorin oakenshield x #thorin x #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #x reader #x elf!reader #x elf #x fem #x female reader #x fem!reader #x fem reader #x elleth reader #the hobbit #The Hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #fluff #angst #jrr tolkien #j.r.r. tolkien

[strawberrylemonz]

Tonight’s Showing

Part 1 [CURRENT]

Part 2

DT: @bargledblocks my beloved <3 and @snapdragonfirefly my beloved <3

------------The screaming and yelling tore into his mind, filling him with pain. The screams, Tommy’s screams, called out to him, begging for him to save him. He didn’t want to leave the boy there, he never even dreamed of such a thing! That stupid security issue that occured a week ago had started all this, and Sam hated every bit of it. He didn’t know what to do in the situation. What was there to do? 

“SAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!”

His eyes widened at the tone of Tommy’s voice coming through to him from the communicator. Tommy sounded terrified. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t wait any longer. Rushing through the halls towards the main cell, Sam was fully prepared to get Tommy out of there. Fueled by the screams, he stumbled into the room, flipping the switch to undo the lava. His fear and adrenaline only grew the moment the screams fell silent. Why was Tommy silent? Before he could even see the lava fall, however, a bright light momentarily blinded him. Upon regaining his sight and senses, he was quick to draw his weapon, only to realize he had no weapons or armor on him. The only thing he had were his everyday clothes.

“Why am I here? Where is here?”

He quickly turned around to see that he was not alone in this confusing predicament. Everyone from the server was appearing into the strange room, all panicked and confused. Ranboo quickly rushed to check on Tubbo, who appeared to be digging around his pockets for some form of protection. Ghostbur, Techno, and Phil stuck close to each other, the latter two wary and ready to fight. Heck, even Drista was there! Everyone was the same, armorless and weaponless. Everyone, including-

SMACK!

Everyone turned to watch as Sapnap’s fist flew threw the air, connecting to a familiar mask. Dream. Dream struggled against Sapnap for a moment, his mask as crazed as his movements. Before the two could exchange any more punches, an invisible force separated the former friends. As the two regained their senses, everyone could get a good look at the freed prisoner. Whether the blood on him was from the altercation with Sapnap or not, no one knew. Standing there, mask facing mask, Drista could only stare as she questioned her older brother.

“What did you do?”

“He did something despicable and disgusting.”

The unfamiliar voice caught everyone’s attention, causing them to turn and face the direction of it. Standing there was a petite woman, watching them. Studying all their expressions, she snorted as she turned to face Dream, who was trying to walk forward. 

“Don’t even try leaving that small area, Dream, you can’t. Then again, I’d enjoy seeing you struggle, Bitch Boy.”

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t Tommy tell you guys? Wait, I forgot that none of you ever took him seriously when he mentioned me. The name’s Clara, I’m the lady in the sky.”

Lani played with her fingers, unsure of what to say or do. Sticking close to her brother, she gathered her confidence before speaking to the mysterious “lady in the sky”.

“Excuse me? Clara? Did you bring us here?”

“Yes! Well, with a little help, of course.”

Clara smiled as a grand being glitched into the room, his white orb of a head spinning in delight. Stopping the orb from spinning, his shoulders shook in joy as his prominent ‘XD’ presented itself to everyone there. Techno and Phil pressed their lips together as they shared a knowing look, obviously not expecting to see the god once again.

“Oh, you make me blush, Clara.”

“I do no such thing, we both know that. Did you give unhacked access for the others to join us?”

“Yes, they should be here any moment now.”

“Wonderful.”

Just then, a dark door emerged from the ground. Watched as the knob twisted and jiggled, the residents of the server didn’t know what to expect. When the door opened, however, they could only watch in confusion. Everyone, that is, aside from Phil and Techno, who happily rushed to her side.

“Kristin!”

Said woman smiled and giggled as Phil gathered her in his arms, planting kisses on her face as his broken wings flapped in excitement. Her own wings, white and pure, happily fluttered behind her as she returned the gesture. Pulling away, she turned to face Techno, a hand on his face as she smiled.

“And how is my eldest child?”

“Eh, you know. Here and there.”

“Here and there, indeed.”

“I’m sorry, what is going on here.”

Quackity watched the scene unfold in genuine confusion. Who was this lady named Kristin? Why was she so important to both Phil and Techno? Where did she even come from? He wasn’t the only one confused, pretty much everyone in the room was. Smiling as she stood in front of both men, Kristin hummed as she extended her arms in a welcoming manner.

“My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself! Hello, my name is Kristin! I’m the wife of Phil, as well as the mother of Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy! I’m also Death itself.”

“I’m sorry, Philza Minecraft fucked death?!”

“Wait, Techno is Phil’s kid?! I thought they were just business partners!”

“Business partners? I thought they were just besties!”

“I’m still not over the fact that Techno is related to Wilbur and Tommy.”

“I knew about Tommy being brothers with those two, as well as being Phil’s son, but I didn’t know about death being his mother! You’d think he’d tell me, given that I’m his best friend!”

“You knew?!”

“Duh.”

“And you never corrected us?!”

“Thought it was just a dumb inside joke.”

Ignoring the chaos caused by those around her, Kristin made her way to Fundy, who was frozen in uncertainty. Smiling as she placed her hands on both sides of his face, Kristin gave the fox hybrid a sincere greeting.

“My my, what a lovely young man. It’s finally great to meet you, Fundy. Look at you, I’m so proud to call you my first grandchild.”

She knew that her words caused her husband to flinch, it’s what she intended. As much as she loved and adored her significant other, she did find it sad that Fundy was denied the right to be loved. He deserved to feel loved and important, because he was.

“I can’t wait to learn all about you during the free periods! Oh! Speaking of grandchildren, silly me.”

They watched as Kristin made her way back to her opened door. Peering in, she spoke out in a gentle voice.

“Twins? Can you two please come out? Grandma will make sure no one hurts you two.”

Everyone watched as two small figures made their way out of the door, tiny hands holding onto one another. Watching as the door disappeared back into the ground, the twins turned to face Kristin. Humming, she gathered the two in her arms as she presented them to the room.

“Family, not family, meet Clementine and William-”

“Hn.”

“-I’m sorry, love. Meet Clementine and Wilbur! They’re technically Tommy’s children, born from the debris of his star.”

“I’m sorry, his star?”

“That will be revealed soon enough, no worries.”

Clementine just glared at the occupants of the room, her pigtailed hair bouncing as she turned to make sure everyone saw her expression. Wilbur, on the other hand, opted to hide behind his curled hair, painted in the same blond color as his sister’s. 

“Did he name his son after his dead brother? Because if so, that did not age well-”

“Fuck you!”

Everyone watched with apaled expressions as Clementine glared Dream down, flipping him off with her tiny fingers. Kristin shook her head in mock annoyance as Clara belted out in laughter, XD following in suit. Doing her best to regain her composure, Clara spoke up once again.

“Oh my Me, she certainly is Tommy’s daughter.”

“Well, as much as I don’t enjoy hearing my youngest son and my only granddaughter curse out their issues, she did do it in her brother’s and uncle’s honor, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Hehe.”

“Go on, go sit with your cousin.”

“M’kay!”

Kristin set the twins down back on the ground, smiling as Clementine immediately took her brother’s hand in her own. Pulling him along, the two happily ran up to Fundy, smiling as they did so. The moment was interrupted by Quackity, who was unsure of everything.

“As great as witnessing this family reunion was, why are we all here?”

Sam nodded as he agreed with Quackity, speaking up as he gave Dream a pointed look.

“Not to be rude, but I agree. Something happened back in the prison, and I haven’t been able to see what.”

“Ah, yes. That is exactly why we’re here. Kristin, XD, if you will.”

The two nodded at Clara before taking each other’s hands. Closing her eyes, Kristin began mumbling as XD stood there, waiting. Once Kristin finished her mumbling, XD released one of his hands from her, drawing invisible signs on the air. Once he was done, both deities gave a synchronized nod. Rumbling was heard as a tunnel emerged out of nothing. A train emerged from it, coming to a sudden stop. As the doors slowly opened, everyone froze as they watched the occupants walk out, confused and cautious. 

“Wilbur?”

“Schlatt?!”

“And me, MD!”

Before anyone else could make a move or sound, Clara spoke up once more.

“As much as I want more of these sweet reunions to occur, we really do need to get a move on. Now, I am very tired of everyone treating my poor starchild with such unjust unfairness. Don’t get me wrong, Tommy does make mistakes and his narrative is in his perspective, but come on! Blaming everything on him? This is getting ridiculous at this point! Now, you are all going to sit here and feel and hear everything he did! I, alongside Kristin and XD, will be monitoring you all. And Dream? Don’t make me go over there.”

Without warning, the environment completely changed. The group suddenly found themselves in the vast emptiness of space. They didn’t know what they were looking for, no one but Kristin. Said woman could only grimace as she nodded to herself, unconsciously touching her stomach.

“I remember this.”

“Remember what-?”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The group turned to see another Kristin scream out in pain, her hand resting on the bump of the belly. They watched as she tried to take a step, only to double down in pain again.

“FUCK YOU, PHIL. HOLY SHIT, I’M GONNA PUNCH YOUR FACE SO MANY TIMES.”

Phil grimaced as he leaned away from his wife, who laughed as she kept sikeing him out with her fist. Wilbur snickered at the sight. Turning back to the scene before them, they watched as Clara quickly rushed to Kristin’s sign, obviously not enjoying her distress.

“Clara, I- Ah! I don’t think- think I can make it to the bo-OOOOOOAH! The boys! I know I promised, but I can’t.”

“Phil will understand, dear. Breathe with me, in and out, okay? I don’t know a thing about human childbirth, but I know starchildbirth. Allow me to help, okay? I don’t like to see you in pain, and neither would your husband or sons.”

“Hurry!”

Clara pulled out a small orb from her pocket, holding it in the palm of her hand. Gently holding it against Kristin’s belly. Closing her eyes, she mumbled as the dull like of the orb brightened, growing in size as it did so.

“What is she doing?”

“That orb in my hand? That’s a dying star that I collected that morning. I’m using it to dub Tommy a starchild so that Kristin wouldn’t struggle with giving birth.”

Kristin let out a sigh of relief, her screams and sobs subsiding. Taking deep breaths to try and calm herself, she rubbed her face as she tried to wipe away her tears. Mumbling out a thank you, she watched as Clara extended the bright orb to her.

“Here he is, a healthy little boy! He’ll shine brighter than the sun, I’m certain of it.”

Kristin smiled as she took the orb into her own hands, watching as the light dimmed, revealing the newly born child. Tufts of blond hair poked out of his head as she adjusted the blanket. Kristin couldn’t help but let more tears fall as she held him close, kissing his forehead.

“He already looks so much like his father. Oh, Phil will be upset that he missed this.”

“Go and see your family, I’ll cover your shift for you.”

“Thank you.”

Kristin summoned a door, adjusting her youngest son as she walked through it. Navigating through the dark void, she came across another door. Opening the door, she stepped outside into a secluded area in the woods. Walking down the path, she approached the cozy cottage that proudly stood there. Knocking on the door, she cooed at the child in her arms as she waited for the door to open.

“Kristin?”

“Meet your son, Phil. He looks so much like you.”

The group watched as Phil dropped everything in his hands, startling his sons from the other room. Holding his newborn son and wife in his arms, he wept tears of joy as a tiny Wilbur and Techno rushed in, prepared for the worst. Seeing that it was only their mother, their worried looks morphed into joyful expressions.

“Mum!”

“Mom!”

“My boys! Come, meet your new brother.”

The two boys staggered for a bit, eyes widening at the revelation of the newest addition of the family. Watching as Phil and Kristin stared down at the bundle with great love and joy, they couldn’t help but feel excited at the sight. 

“Can we hold him?”

“Of course, just be gentle with him, okay boys?”

“M’kay.”

The twins carefully cradled the bundle in both their arms, working together to keep him safe and secure in their arms. Watching the sleeping child, they were in awe at the sight.’

“He has golden hair! Just like papa!”

“Gold! Gold! Gold!”

Kristin and Phil both laughed as they watched, joy and love filling them. Humming, Phil spoke up in a gentle tone.

“Well? What’re you two gonna name him?”

The twins just watched their baby brother as he slept soundly in their arms. Suddenly, startling the twins, their new brother yawned and squirmed in their arms. Rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists, he blinked his eyes open for the first time. Blinking up at them, he tilted his head as he squirmed. It wasn’t until Wilbur spoke up that he reacted.

“Tommy. Let’s call him Tommy.”

Everyone gasped as the feeling of immense love and wonder filled them, something they weren’t prepared for. Doing their best to cope with the feeling, they watched as the baby let out gurgles of giggles, reaching for his brothers. It was only then that they realized that Tommy was a very emotion-driven person, and they were going to feel every bit of that.

#The Reluctant Hero's Tale #The Reluctant Hero's Tale AU #Tommy's POV POGGGGGGGGG #He's also winginnit #And a piglin hybrid can't forget that #This is for you Mr. Danger Kraken Innit