#drawing sometimes is like trying to jump start a dead car

[weenie-kun]

ocs. . the usual

[homeofthelonelywriter]

I got you | Pt. 1

(A/N) Okay...for this one, I beg of you, do look at the warnings. It's a heavy one with a lot of possible triggers.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: lots of angst, death of a loved one, PTSD, civil war, flashbacks, injuries, description of death

Synopsis: During the briefing for a mission, the Reader gets triggered and Simon takes care of her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Okay…now that everyone is here, we can begin with the briefing.”

Price got up from his seat at the head of the table and started to pace before the screen, which displayed the details for the new mission. He began to talk, but you had already zoned out. Paying attention in these briefings had never been your strong suit, your ADHD riddled brain just wouldn’t stay focused for that long. But you found other ways to entertain yourself, until the briefings would be over and you could bug one of your comrades to give you a quick overview. Emphasis on quick.

So, you started to do the usual. First, you fiddled with your pen, spun it around between your fingers, until you grew bored of that. The next thing was always doodling. Pros: it looked like you were actually paying attention and taking notes. Cons: you sucked at drawing and would quickly grow frustrated at your lack of talent, and as a result grow bored of doodling.

Of course the next activity was taking your pen apart and putting it back together as quickly you could, without making a ruckus. This was also usually the time, when Ghost or Price would take your pen away and tell you to focus on the briefing. Not that that would help.

So, you and Soap started thumb wrestling under the table. But that would only ever last until one of you almost dislocates their thumb and yelps in pain, which in turn earns a glare from Price or Ghost.

It rarely ever comes to this point. Briefings like this don’t usually take this long, but sometimes they did. Which meant you had to get creative.

Your first idea was to play ‘Goal’ with Gaz, but he was sitting across the table from you, and that would draw too much attention.

Playing with your bottle would also be too obvious.

You were lost in thought when a single word pulled you out of it.

‘Libya’

Your head snaps up and your eyes find Price, who is still pacing up and down. No one seems to have noticed your reaction.

‘Libya’

Flashbacks flood your brain.

Your family, running. You, running. Gunshots behind you. Your mother yelling for you to continue running. Then she falls…and doesn’t get back up. Your bigger sister grabs your hand and continues to pull you along. Away from the gunfire. Away from your mother’s body.

You jump to your feet, accidentally sending you chair flying. Everyone is looking at you.

You. Your sister. Hiding behind a car. She’s bleeding. She’s bleeding so much. People are yelling. There are more gunshots. It’s so loud. So, so loud. You look at your sister. She’s dead.

Your eyes jump from one face to the other. Eyes. So many eyes trained on you. Asking questions.

Eyes. So many eyes trained on you. Asking questions.

“Are you okay?”

“Where is your family?”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you alone?”

Someone grabs your arm. You want to resist, you need to resist. But you don’t. Just like back then.

You get pushed. You don’t resist.

Your back hits the wall. You don’t resist.

Someone stands in front of you. You don’t resist.

“Everyone, out!”

Ghost. He’s here. He’ll keep you safe.

But your breath, it’s coming so quick. Your chest, it feels so tight.

But Ghost…

So quick. So tight.

He’ll keep you safe.

So quick. So-

“Listen love, I need you to breath with me, okay?”

Your head snaps up, your eyes finding his. They aren’t as hard and cold as usual.

You nod.

You watch him breath in and copy him. Well try to at least.

You watch him breath out. Slow and steady, but yours comes out in a huff.

He breaths in again. You try to do the same. This time it works a bit better.

And it keeps getting better. The more you breath, the better it gets.

“You’re okay. It’s okay.”

He keeps repeating these words, over and over.

“You’re okay. It’s okay.”

They keep repeating these words, over and over.

You look up again and find those eyes. Scanning your face. Calming you down.

And you calm down.

You don’t know how long you stand there, covered by Ghost, his hands on the wall on either side of you. He’s close enough for you to know that he is there, but giving you enough space to calm down.

“Feeling better?”

You nod, your eyes cast down to the floor.

He nods, his eyes trained on you.

“Take the rest of the day off.

You nod again, and when he takes a step back, you walk to the door. You open it and are about to walk out, when you stop.

“Ghost?”

He grunts, in acknowledgment.

“Thank you.”

You try to sleep. You really do.

But the flashbacks keep coming.

After hours of tossing and turning in bed, you give up on getting any sleep. Instead you get dressed in your workout clothes and make your way to the gym on base. On the way you contemplate on what you want to do. Cardio, hoping it would get you tired? Strength, hoping it would make you feel better?

But when you round the corner and look into the gym, all those thoughts leave your head. Because someone is there, training. Ghost is there.

He is wearing a tight, dark grey, muscle shirt with black sweatpants and is punching away at the sandbag. But when you enter the room, he stops and looks at you.

“Not able to sleep?”

You give a curt nod, which he copies, before he returns to the sandbag. You continue to watch him for a few moments, before you make your way to one of the treadmills. After placing your water bottle and towel where they belong, you turn on the treadmill and begin walking.

After some time, you up the speed and incline, continuing to do so until you’re running.

And suddenly, you’re running from bullets.

You’re running, your mother is holding your hand, your big sister is in front of you. Gunshots echo behind you. Your father is dead. So is your big brother.

You speed up.

Someone calls your name, but you don’t turn around. Turning around would mean slowing down, and you can’t slow down now.

Again, someone calls your name and this time you turn around. But then you trip over your own two feet and plummet to the ground. You hit it hard, but the ground isn’t still, it’s moving. And fast, and suddenly you’re flung off the treadmill.

This time, your name is uttered in pure panic and you hear heavy footsteps racing towards you. You curl together, preparing to be beaten and killed, but strong hands grab you and pick you up. And then you smell him.

You open your eyes and look into Ghost’s. They are wide in panic and shock.

“-uo okay?”

You blink at him. He says your name, the tone snapping you out of your confusion.

“Are you okay?”

You nod hesitantly and Ghost sighs in relief. Suddenly, he pulls you close.

“I got you. You are safe, I promise.”

Ghost isn’t a caring person. He is hard, cold and serious. He doesn’t do hugs, he doesn’t get concerned. The fact that he’s now holding you close, the fact that he’s seeing how bad you are doing and the fact that he’s concerned, brings tears to your eyes.

You start to cry, sob into his chest. You cry for your mother and sister. For your brother and father. For your cousins and aunts and uncles. You cry for your people and you cry for your younger self. The young you that had to grow up in the middle of a civil war. The young you that lost everyone while trying to escape. The young you that was brought to a strange country, all alone. The young you that never had a childhood.

And all the while, Ghost holds you close. He hums and rocks back and forth gently. He cradles you against his chest and rubs your back. He is there for you.

He holds you until you calm down and then some. And when he’s sure that you’re fine, he presses his covered lips to your forehead before he pulls away.

“What do you need?”

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What do you need? What can I do for you to feel better?”

You inhale sharply, and look everywhere but at Ghost.

“I…I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.”

Ghost nods and thinks for a bit before he offers you his hand. You take it hesitantly and let him pull you out of the gym and towards the barracks. You follow him until he stops in front of a door and unlocks it, before gesturing for you to go inside ahead of him.

You quickly realise that it’s his room and you turn around to ask him what he’s planning on doing.

“Relax, I just want you to sleep for a bit. When…when I struggle with…with flashbacks, I can never sleep. At least not when I’m alone. Maybe it will help you if you sleep here.”

He hesitates for a second.

“I’ll sleep on the floor of course.”

Tears gather in your eyes and you nod.

“Thank you. Really.”

He nods before he springs into action and starts pulling out extra pillows and blankets. Within a few minutes, the bed is ready for you, and a mattress is waiting for Ghost. It doesn’t really look comfortable, but you don’t voice your concern, scared of driving him away in some way.

“If you want to change, the bathroom is through there.”

He hands you one of his shirts and points at a door, so you quickly go there and change into it, before walking back into the bedroom. Once Ghost hears you, he turns around.

“Ready to go to sleep?”

You nod again and shuffle to the bed, before climbing onto it and tucking yourself in. Ghost does the same, just on the mattress after he turns off the lights. Once both of you are settled, you turn onto your side, facing Ghost.

“Ghost?”

He grunts, but turns in your direction.

“Can…can I hold your hand?”

There is no response for a few moments before you hear shuffling and a hand suddenly appears in front of you. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed and take it, holding it close while your eyes slowly drift shut.

The last thing you hear before sleep takes over you, is Ghost, muttering softly.

“I got you.”

Next Part

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[thefiresontheheight]

I had an incredibly detailed multipart dream so bare with me here.

At some point in the near future, like 2060s a woman’s twin sons both are in a car wreck and end up in vegetative states. She, just a janitor, out of her mind with grief when a super shady business approaches her and says they can possible save her sons if she agrees to their experimental procedure. She does and one of them not only miraculously recovers fully but his brain grows new connections and he becomes a super genius. But the other, mentioned to love ttrpgs, mysteriously vanishes. In the background an increased effort to reach Mars is mentioned on a news broadcast.

Jump forward several decades into the future. The Procedure as it’s called is still mostly only used sparingly and in emergency situations. It’s understood that sometimes it creates super genius brains and sometimes it’s known make people bodily vanish for no understood reason. The company behind it has revealed the got the Procedure from a crashed alien probe from Mars and that is behind the increased interest. In fact right at the start of the section a dozen scientists who have all survived the Procedure are landing on Mars.

As they do they do land they discover to their shock that not only does Mars have the plant life in the form of small, fungal growths but it also has a thin but breathable atmosphere. Satellites in orbit still show it as uninhabitable and they theorize that it’s some sort of hologram that makes it look far less alive than it is. Then they look up into the thin clouds and see huge orrery like machines made of marble, floating above, covered in statues of Greco-Roman gods.

The scientific expedition struggles in vain to understand these impossible machines. Nothing about it makes sense and they cannot discovered how they work until one scientist in a fit of desperation undergoes the Procedure a second time. He does not vanish but rather, on an expedition to the cloud machines activates one of them. As the rest of the expedition watches in awe from the surface and begins sending a message back to Earth one of them notices that the marble machine seems to be expanding.

We jump forward several decades again to a society of scientists that the company has set up on Mars. The marble machines have grown, and continue to grow, now crowding the surface. The company keeps sending people to interact with them, all fueled by the Procedure. The Procedure seems less and less effective, now disappearing around five out of six people who undergo it, with debates around if they are dead or not. But the entire civilization seems obsessed with solving the inexplicable mysteries of how the machines function and who made them.

But one scientist growing afraid of the increasingly claustrophobic corridors between the machines huge, moving, marble barriers decides to ask his friend, a janitor living on Mars who has never undergone the Procedure even once. He has no ideas but tells a story of the time his wife died and he felt mad with grief. He describes this grief as a labyrinth, and that the more he tried to find a way out the more lost he became. The only way to escape a labyrinth, he says, referencing a small RPG group he DMs, is to stop trying to solve it.

The scientist thinks about this as the walls of marble draw closer. Another six scientist undergo the Procedure again, the third or fourth time for all of them. And this time they all disappear.

[midnightmisadventures]

Bro

I had a dream where i was with ppl from hs and we were at this outdoor place to celebrate something political idk. It was like summer camp vibes but we were just chillin and then all the republican racist people came out and C***g Choy was wearing an american flag around him and everyone knew he was violent and rude to anyone liberal, so we were trying to keep our cool and stand our ground but i was one of the only black people there so i was especially nervous like i was scared he would hurt me. Everyone tried to hide or move away but then some sort of teacher? administrator? said no you cant all go over there and crowd one side. V weird 

But then we were in a supermarket. I was with Erikka and all of the conservative, republican, hs kids were there with GUNS. And they werent normal shotguns, or pistols, they were like this weird skinny barrel black guns that shot silently and harshly and super accurate. Idk how to describe them but they looked futuristic. 

And they were straight up just killing people in the walmart/supermarket. It was insane because they were only coming after the kids from our group, by kids i mean us. Like they werent going after older adults and it was almost like no one noticed. Giving mini game minisode for sure

So anyway, theyre just shooting us dead in the aisles. So me and erikka are running for our absolute lives to not be seen. Cause the goal was to not be seen by one of them or youre just dead. I was so terrified, scared out of my mind, like holy shit im gonna die. I would see them one aisle over killing someone and use something else to make noise that would hide the sound of me running away. It was so crazy because there was no where to actually hide, you just had to keep dodging them. Insane

Meanwhile there are just tons of regular shoppers. I started getting exhausted and panicked so i went up to this white older couple and said “hi where do you stand politically?” just making sure real quick that they wouldnt be on there side, and the man was like “liberal, as far left as i can vote” and i didnt waste a beat, i was like okay there are a bunch of young conservative people with guns trying to kill us in this store please help us. Then to the point where im screaming, like scream crying to other people around like “SOMEONE PLEASE DO SOMETHING THEYRE KILLING PEOPLE AND THEYRE GONNA KILL MORE THEY WONT STOP PLEASE HELP PLEASE” 

And it def gained attention, now there were people trying to interfere when one of them was holding a liberal at gunpoint but it didnt do much

Finally i’m with erikka/maybe ally sometimes and we’re by the freezer aisle. And shes like “i have an ideaaa” to get us out of here. And she quickly explains that like......if we take a shopping cart, and walk with it above our heads, then pay for it. Like apparently it was normal to pay for a shopping cart and take it home. Well not normal but an option. And we’d hold it above our heads? while bouncing and jumping and playing this cultural song/chant in another language. I don’t really get it either, and dream me def did not understand when erikka was explaining it. 

But low and behold, we lift the shopping cart up, somehow start gaining momentum bouncing and something adjacent to squidwards tiki land starts playing through the speakers and we are running/bouncing to the checkout. We’re so nervous still, but its working, I think we were drawing enough attention to oursleves where like......they couldnt kill us without getting caught by a lot of people.

Anyway we’re moving as fast as we can and we nervously pay for the cart and then we made it through the store doors. As soon as we did we threw the cart down from above our heads and ran as fast as we can to our parents car, and i’d never felt more relieved. I could barely describe what had just happened but the fact that the plan worked was so miraculous i was so fucking happy to not be in fight or flight

The rest of the dream consisted of us retelling the story to family members but then also re-entering the store with them? And id be like “guys we already escaped, they could still be around here, i do not want to take the chance, pls can we leave” 

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

YES YOURE DOING REQUESTS!! 💛💛 ILY ILY ILY!! Can I get the "only one bed" trope with Dream, Sap, and George x reader (separately lol) - 🦎

Hi 🦎 anon! Thank you for the request! I hope this is what you wanted :)

summary: uh oh! bed sharing ;)

pairing: Dream x reader, Sapnap x reader, George x reader

warnings: fluff, one or two swear words I think?

links: ao3, main

◦ You’re traveling to visit mutual friends.

◦ Clay was picking you up because you lived near each other.

◦ The two of you never really got along, but when it came to not having to drive, you were willing to let bygones be bygones.

◦ That being said, when Dream finally pulled into a hotel and there was only one bed available your strained car ride tension snapped. 

◦ You both stood, glaring at the double bed in the middle of the dingy motel room and avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

◦ How cliché, you’d think. 

◦ “We’re adults. I think we can share a bed without killing each other, can’t we?” You’d groan, earning a low grumble from him. 

◦ You could practically hear his eye roll. “No, I’ll literally wake up and think ‘today’s the day’ and unremorsefully strangle you.”

◦ You shot a glare in his direction. “You don’t have the brain power to hide my body after that.”

As you sank into one side of the springy mattress, Clay would sigh in frustration before burying himself in the covers beside you; both of you too tired to argue.  Despite the fact that you could practically feel your hair grow you were so exhausted, Dream’s cover hogging and your cold feet would make most of the night hell for the two of you. 

The sun began to pierce through the slits in the blinds, the stripes stinging your eyes and forcing you awake. As dust jumped from light beam to light beam, you groggily began to stretch your body yet stopped short at the feeling of Dream’s warm breath fanning against your shoulder. It was then that you noticed just how encompassed you were in his long limbs as his arms kept you pressed against his chest, locked around you as if you'd float away in the middle of the night. His legs were tangled with yours like sleeping this way had been natural to the two of you.

You froze in the hope that you hadn’t woken him up, but also in utter shock at the fact that he was snuggled up against you so tightly… And that you were enjoying it. The scent of his day old shampoo mixed with whatever foreign laundry detergent the motel was beating into their sheets, made you drowsy once again. Dream’s soft snores came out as whispers against your hair to break the silence of the intimate moment. 

Yet your bubble of calm was popped as his phone alarm began to shrill, jerking him awake and into a sense of panic as he realized his hold on you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping he’d just slip away from you and you would pretend it never happened. 

But alas, this was Dream you were talking about. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing on my side of the bed, perv!”

◦ Sapnap was moving in with a friend of yours in your area.

◦ The two of you hadn’t really known each other well; you’d met at a party once or twice but that was the extent of it. 

◦ Since you lived nearby, you offered your help while he was moving in. 

◦ Sap had come a day earlier than your friend, so you took it upon yourself to welcome him. 

◦ Most of the day was spent heaving boxes into various parts of their apartment and light chatter

◦ You’d been so engrossed in helping him lift the couch into the correct spot in the living room, you hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten. 

◦ As you mentioned having to leave, Sapnap swatted you off saying it was late enough that you could just crash there.

◦ So, that’s how you found yourself on an air mattress in the center of the floor with him sprawled out in a sleeping bag beside you. 

◦ Only problem was, you were freezing. 

◦ You nudged him with your foot, trying not to startle him too much.

◦ Despite this and you calling his name softly, he didn’t budge. 

◦ You kicked him harder, making him startle awake.

◦ He’d look at you with raised eyebrows as if to ask if you were dying. 

◦ At this point, you were so tired and so cold, you didn’t care what kind of Twilight trope you were giving into. 

◦ “Nick, I’m freezing. Come lay next to me,” you’d request. 

◦ His brows knitted together. “What? NO-” 

◦ “Please, how are you not cold?” You’d nearly beg. 

◦ He’d shake his head and then climb into bed beside you, his warmth a new haven for you. 

The make-shift mattress sinks under Sapnap's weight and you're nearly reluctant to curl up closer to him but as he turns to face you, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You shuffle nearer to him and he doesn't pay mind to it. Your teeth were still chattering though, so he huffs slightly and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You're enveloped in his warmth almost instantly, your body calming at his touch. "Damn, your feet are like icicles," he chided, sending the two of you into soft laughter. It isn't long before you lose yourself in the sound of his heartbeat. 

“What is going on?” An all too familiar voice broke you out of your dream world, your heavy eyelids struggling to open because of the long night. You snuggled closer against what you had figured was a pillow until you realized the soft material under your touch was Sapnap's hoodie. 

Your eyes snapped open, finding Sapnap sound asleep in your embrace, your roommate looking over the two of you scornfully. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” you muttered, reluctantly dislodging yourself from around Sapnap and wincing at the brightness of the room. He groaned and sat up, stretching his own arms and sending you a soft smile, making a blush rush to your cheeks.

“It looks like you’re spooning my roommate,” your friend badgered, heading out of the room with a shake of their head. 

◦ You and George were roommates.

◦ The two of you shared a wall, much like you shared milk and sugar; sparingly but with respect. 

◦ You usually kept to yourself around your shared space, letting him do his thing and you do yours.

◦ Sure, the two of you were friendly here and there, but you were positive he couldn't pick you out of a line-up and vice versa. 

◦ But, all that had been put aside when you began having nightmares.

◦ You'd woken up with a start one night, heart racing and a cold sweat inkling down your back.

◦ Your surroundings seemed foreign to you as you could barely see your hand in front of your face. 

◦ The fear you'd felt moments prior was digging its heels into your subconscious and threatening to make its nest. 

◦ You rolled your eyes in subtle embarrassment as you noticed the small line of light spilling from beneath George's door across the hall from you. 

◦ It was then that you felt yourself move, your mind now set on companionship you weren't entirely sure you needed. 

You knocked softly at his door, regretting the disturbance almost instantly as you heard him climb from his bed. You debated turning back and burying yourself in a book until morning, but as you turned on your heel, his door creaked open. 

George rubbed his eyes with one hand and the other leaned against the threshold. "You okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from being dormant for a few hours. 

You cleared your throat, finding it difficult to form words of your own. "I um- had a nightmare," you mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling like a child. 

George's brows furrowed as he looked down at you, the light from his room drawing his long, slender shadow around your feet. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" He asked, as if sensing what you were struggling to ask him. 

His sheets were soft against your skin as you settled into his bed, inches from him. His features seemed softer in the dark as the two of you laid in silence, the only sound being his gentle breathing. He reached for your hand, grasping it gently in his own to send you a small node of understanding. "You can wake me up if it happens again," he whispered, a sense of ease washing over you as you once again felt drowsy. The feeling of safety being near him like this and his hand threading with yours, calmed your quarrelsome mind. 

It was like you had closed your eyes for an instant before the morning sun pulled you from your slumber. George's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist as your hands curled around his own. Your nose was nestled in the crook of his neck as the two of you had unintentionally begun to share a pillow at some point in the night. He slept like the dead, and continued to as you slyly slipped from his grasp and headed into the living room. 

You'd never really spoken about it, but these sessions became next to normalcy for the two of you, sometimes even without the nightmares.

[spencers-renaissance]

this heavy humanness

Summary: Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

or; Spencer's suffered far too much abuse in his life and Derek knew about none of it. He shouldn't have found out like this.

Tags: est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, hurt spencer TW: implied/referenced - child abuse, abuse & csa. trauma response that could be perceived as dissociation. misplaced frustration at neurodivergence. nothing graphic but message me for more info if needed.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills the "Domestic Violence" square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. It's a heavy one folks so please heed the tags, but fear not, as always we have a happy ending ahead of us! <3 Title by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Spencer knows it’s ridiculous. Derek will not hurt him: this much he knows for certain. Derek is safe, he is home, he is his person. Derek would die before laying a hand on him.

This objective knowledge does not stop the fear from building in his chest, fizzling through his veins until his whole body is alight with it, simmering under the surface of his cold skin as Derek shouts, his face contorted in anger. Spencer might know that Derek won’t hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he can forget what’s happened in the past when he’s put that same expression on crueller people’s faces.

“How could you be so irresponsible, Spencer?”

He doesn’t know. The sinking feeling of failure, of disappointing someone he loves so much settles deep in his stomach as he watches Derek pace up and down the living room while he stays firmly planted on the sofa, pressed as far into the corner as he can.

He didn’t mean to leave the oven on overnight. Again. It’s just that sometimes he gets so lost in his head, in the studies he reads just before bed that getting ready for bed happens on auto-pilot, and small things like turning the oven off slip through the cracks. Derek’s never got this angry over it before, but that’s probably because he’s never said “yes” when Derek’s sleepily asked him if he remembered to turn it off, not when he actually didn’t.

He answered on auto-pilot. He didn’t mean to lie, but that doesn’t seem to matter that much to Derek as he wears down the living room carpet with his pacing, visibly seething. He tracks him with his eyes. He can’t afford to not see the blow coming.

The blow isn’t coming, he tries to tell himself. It’s not all that convincing when Derek stops mid-pace, turning to look at him dead in the eye.

“We could’ve died, Spencer! Does that mean nothing to you?”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He wants to, he really does, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by fear and confusion and emotion and regret, God why didn’t I turn off the oven, I should’ve been better, it’s all my fault—

“Do you seriously not have anything to say?”

Spencer stares. He has so much to say. All of it is trapped in his throat, tangled in a mess of please don’t leave me and please god don’t hit me.

“You know, I can’t deal with this right now,” Derek mutters, throwing his hands up in the air, “this is unbelievable.” Spencer watches as he shrugs a coat over his shoulders, pulls on his shoes, pauses only to grab his wallet and keys, and walks out the door without looking back.

The door slams behind him and Spencer jumps at the loud noise, jolting out of his fear-ridden stupor, wincing as he’s forced out of his head and thrust back into reality. It’s only ten past ten in the morning; a nice, sunny Saturday in late Spring, and maybe in a different universe, Spencer and Derek are packing a wicker basket with a picnic, heading off to their favourite park to feed each other strawberries and enjoy jam-filled sandwiches.

In this universe, though, Spencer drags his heavy bones to the bathroom, and peels off his clothes. He feels weighed down, tied to some point of gravity far below his feet as he avoids the mirror at all costs and lets his pajamas lay where they fall instead of gathering them into a ball and throwing them into the hamper like he usually does. He turns the water on and steps under the spray, allowing himself to revel in the warm rivulets of water caressing his cold skin.

Shampoo bottles stand untouched in the caddy to his left. He’s not there to get clean, he’s there to forget and to think all at the same time. Slowly, he sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall as the water cascades down his front, but not before he turns the heat up. It’s a small comfort: the water just on the right side of too hot running down his face and his torso and his legs, pooling at his feet momentarily before sliding down the drain, never to be seen by him again.

Today shouldn’t have started like this, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that if he hadn’t left the oven on, it wouldn’t have. Derek would have smiled when Spencer stepped into the kitchen, pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently before making them pancakes while Spencer sat on the counter-top and told him everything running through his head. Derek would listen, enthralled, whether to the sound of Spencer’s voice or the words he’s saying, and he wouldn’t shut him up, not even when they sat down to eat.

They’d finally get ready for the day late in the morning, they’d decide what they would do that day, and they’d make a point to steal as many kisses as they could; making up for the affection lost during long cases.

Spencer knows this because it’s happened so many times before. They may have only been dating for just over six months, but they already live together, having fallen hard and fast; Emily teases them for it, calls them her favourite lesbian couple, and they don’t care because they’re in love.

Despite that, though, Spencer still hasn’t told Derek.

There are nights he lies awake pondering how unfair that is. He’s held Derek as he sobbed over memories of Buford, as he spilled every awful detail of the abuse he endured; he’s comforted him after he’d tried and failed to bottom, falling into a flashback every time, no matter how much he wanted to try it.

But Spencer stays silent. He doesn’t tell him about his dad beating him, or his mom getting confused off her meds and smacking him, shoving him, even punching him that one time. He doesn’t tell him about Matthew, his first real boyfriend, trapping him in an abusive relationship that took him months to get the courage to leave. About how when a third person hurt him, he began to wonder whether it really was his fault. Whether that was the only kind of love Spencer Reid deserved.

He stays silent now, staring at the shower wall. The fear has left him now the threat has too, and a cold type of numbness replaces it, and even once the water runs cold, he doesn’t leave. He traces the same four tiles with his eyes, drawing the same pattern with his gaze over and over again as his thoughts turn to an endless cycle of he’ll leave me, he’ll stay, he’ll hit me, he won’t, until he’s not really sure what he believes.

Derek is a good man, but Spencer knows how he can be. He messes up, he forgets things, he doesn’t read situations right, he doesn’t behave the way people think he should, he doesn’t think like a neuro-typical person does. And a good man can only put up with that for so long.

The proof is in the pudding, after all. Derek has always been understanding of things like this in the past. He’s given him a hug and told him not to worry about it, that mistakes happen, and no one can be expected to remember small things like this all the time. But this morning, he was furious. Spencer’s not sure he’s ever seen him so angry in all his years of knowing him, and it was directed at him. All because of an oven left on.

Eventually, a sound from the upstairs apartment drags him from his head again, and he’s suddenly aware of the cold water, of the way his body is trembling and his fingers are pruning. He pulls himself out of the shower, turning the water off, but he stands in the middle of the bathroom, aimlessly, for a long time. By the time he finally has the sense to wrap a towel around his body, he’s basically dripped dry. His hair is soaking wet and the dripping water is freezing, but he doesn’t have the energy to find a towel for his head, too, so he leaves it.

He walks towards the bedroom and climbs into bed, pulling the fluffy duvet over his damp skin and laying his wet hair on the pillow. It feels awful, being wet and damp under the dry bedding, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, so he stays there, towel still wrapped around his legs, hair still soaking the pillow, and he stares at the wall.

He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t know when Derek will come back home. If he ever will.

⭐️

Derek slams the door behind him as he storms out of the apartment, rage consuming his every move, his every thought. The force of it rattles the door frame, echoing down the empty corridor, but he can’t find it in him to care as he marches towards the elevator. The buttons are pressed with perhaps a little more aggression than socially acceptable, but the woman already on board takes one look at his face and has the sense to stay quiet.

He gets in his car and steps on the gas, the squeal of his tyres against the floor of the garage as he speeds out satisfying him more than it probably should. His jaw is locked and tight as he drives through the streets of DC, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, quieted only when he turns the radio up loud, a blasting soundtrack to his ferocious getaway.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he speeds down the highway, heading out of the city towards Baltimore. He doesn’t have a destination in mind: he’s just driving straight. Straight away from the apartment. Away from Spencer.

It’s after more than an hour of driving that his jaw finally loosens and the anger that had simmered in his blood so fiercely fades into reluctant rationality. He’s somewhere in the middle of Baltimore, and the traffic — the tangled road system he actually has to focus on — drags him from the absent headspace the highway had allowed him to slip into.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and turns off the road he’s on, onto a quieter one. As soon as he’s able to pull over, he does, and he hits the steering wheel angrily. “Fuck!” He leans forward, pulling off his sunglasses and burying his head in his hands. It’s not the same kind of anger he’d felt earlier, no. This time it’s directed purely at himself, fuelled by dismal regret.

Before he can stop it, his brain replays the fight with Spencer over and over, the wall he’d put up to block it out crumbling down as images of his boyfriend flood his mind. He hadn’t registered it in the moment, but looking back, God. There was something on Spencer’s face, something so broken, so scared and he feels nauseous at the realisation that he put that there.

Over something as fucking stupid as an oven.

Truthfully, he wasn’t really angry at Spencer. Waking up to see the oven left on again, even after Spencer promised he’d turned it off, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d fought with both his mom and Penelope yesterday, and he went to bed feeling like an utter failure, made even worse when Spencer had declined to join him, deciding instead to keep reading the series of papers he’d started earlier that evening. He woke up in a foul mood, and not even the sight of his peacefully sleeping boyfriend could make him feel better.

It’s his own fault. He should have communicated with Spencer: he should’ve told him about letting his mom down and saying the worst thing he possibly could have in his conversation with Penelope, but he didn’t. He silently stewed, and felt irrationally angry that Spencer wasn’t reading his mind. He knows for an absolute fact that if he’d asked Spencer to join him in bed last night, he would’ve dropped his studies immediately, and cuddled him until he felt better.

But he didn’t. And then he’d screamed at Spencer, in a way he never has before, over something he simply forgot to do. Derek swore to himself that he would never shout at or put Spencer down for his neurodivergent traits. Not in the way he’s seen so many people — regrettably, far too many of them on their own team — do before.

He’s always been understanding in the past, kissed Spencer’s hair and promised that it wasn’t a big deal, and he has always meant it. Because as dramatic as he’d been this morning, leaving the oven on wasn’t really the end of the world. He remembers ranting about the electricity bill, about how they were going to afford the house they were going to buy if he kept this up, about lying to him — even though he knew that was clearly an auto-pilot thing — about how dangerous it was. It’s a fan oven. They were never really in any danger.

What a god-awful way to let off the steam he’d built up and chosen not to let go.

As if he’s not already feeling shitty enough, though, his mind won’t stop circling back to the fear on Spencer’s face. The way he shouted back, but instead crammed himself into the corner of the sofa, never taking his eyes off him as he paced angrily back and forth.

He feels sick.

He digs his phone from the pocket in his sweatpants. He’s still in the clothes he sleepily pulled on in the dark this morning, and he hadn’t thought to bring his phone out with him, but luckily he’d picked it up off the kitchen counter that morning.

He clicks on Spencer’s name, listens to it ringing out as he desperately begs him to pick up. “Come on, baby, please,” he whispers, ignoring the tears burning behind his eyes. “Pick up, please.” He tries three more times before throwing it angrily on the seat next to him, allowing one more second of feeling the blind panic and the fury at himself before forcing himself to calm down.

Reaching over to his phone with one hand to turn the ringer up, he turns the ignition on and pulls back onto the road, heading back towards DC.

The traffic infuriates him, cursing as it takes thirty minutes to get back on the highway, but finally he’s back on the open road. It takes everything in him not to speed past the other cars, knowing that getting pulled over would only slow him down in the long run. He doesn’t turn the radio on. He just replays the fight again and again, each time remembering something new: something he said or something Spencer did.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away as they fall, lets them slide uncomfortably down his neck, under his collar, lets them drip into his lap, lets his nose run. It’s the only punishment he can afford himself right now.

Finally, finally, he pulls into their apartment building’s garage, finding their spot and parking roughly, abandoning the car as quickly as possible in favour of sprinting towards the elevator. He curses at the slow moving carriage, but it eventually spits him out on his floor, and he’s walking down the very corridor he stormed down just a few hours prior.

He pushes open the door to their apartment, closing it behind him softly. Suddenly, the nausea swimming in his gut isn’t just borne from regret, now fuelled by nerves and dreaded anticipation.

“Spence?” he calls softly.

He doesn’t know what to expect: he doesn’t know whether Spencer will be sad or angry, whether he’ll be screaming or crying. The kitchen and living room are empty, and the bathroom door is wide open, so he ventures into their bedroom.

Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

Spencer’s tucked up in bed, duvet pulled up to his neck, facing away from the door. He doesn’t move so Derek thinks he might be sleeping, but when he circles the bed to check, he finds his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the wall. They don’t flicker or blink or move when he steps into his field of vision, and Derek’s heart sinks, panic beginning to grip his chest.

“Spencer? Baby?”

When he still doesn’t move, Derek crawls onto the bed, and the movement or the sound or something must finally catch his attention, because all of a sudden his eyes are widening — in shock, surprise, fear, Derek doesn’t know — and he’s shifting under the covers.

“You’re back,” he says, and it’s so uneasy that Derek wants to cry.

“Yeah, baby, I’m back,” he says gently, “and I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”

He cuts himself off, because when he reaches to tangle his fingers in Spencer’s damp hair, he flinches. His hand freezes, but his stomach twists, because this is the confirmation he was both expecting and dreading. This is the confirmation of everything he prayed he had wrong, everything he wished he’d misinterpreted the whole drive home.

“Spence,” he whispers brokenly, withdrawing his hand, “I would never— never do… I’d never hurt you, God, I—”

A choked sob cuts him off this time, and another follows when he sees a tear sliding down Spencer’s face. A previously blank, emotionless canvas, his face is now full of sadness, tinged with the fear and guilt Derek hates himself for even suggesting was warranted in the first place.

“Derek,” he says softly, and his voice is so mangled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher, it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t say anything more though, eyes sliding shut instead as tears continue to stream down his face.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Anything, I— anything you need, you can have, Spence, I’d give you the world, you know that.”

Spencer’s quiet for a long time, and Derek sits there on the bed anxiously awaiting a response while trying to summon all the patience he doesn’t have as he stares at Spencer’s crying face.

“A hug,” he decides eventually, and Derek almost collapses in relief because, God, he can do that.

He crosses the small space between them, and carefully folds Spencer into a hug, sighing in relief as he melts into Derek’s side, placing his head on his chest and cuddling into him. Their legs tangle together and Derek holds him as gently and as closely as he can, carding his fingers through Spencer’s damp curls while his other hand rests on his waist, his thumb caressing the bare skin there.

He’s still in his towel, he thinks sadly. He didn’t have the energy to properly dry himself before crawling into bed. As if Derek could possibly feel shittier.

They lay like that quietly for a while before Spencer finally speaks. Derek wishes he hadn’t. The words “I’m sorry”, uttered so brokenly, so miserably, have no business leaving Spencer’s mouth.

“Baby, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely. “This is all on me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been, Spencer, because this is completely my fault. I wasn’t actually angry at you, that’s the first thing you need to know, and I know that makes what I did so shitty, because you hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I was so pent up and frustrated with myself and I didn’t communicate that with you and— fuck, I’m doing such a bad job of explaining, I just. I need you to know, Spencer, that I’m not angry, okay? And I’m so sorry for losing it like I did, that never should have happened.”

He pauses and takes a breath in, burying his face in Spencer’s hair as he holds him even tighter, trying to keep his grip as gentle as possible.

“I never told you,” Spencer whispers after a couple beats pass.

Derek’s heart seizes tightly and he swallows. Prepares himself. “Never told me what, sweetheart?”

“My dad, he… he wasn’t a good man and he… you know, he hurt me a lot. And then my mom, when he left and she stopped taking her meds completely, she’d get so confused,” Spencer admits, voice so quiet as he murmurs into Derek’s chest that he has to strain to hear him. “She didn’t mean to, but she’d… And then my last boyfriend, he—”

He cuts himself off as a heaving sob that seems to come out of nowhere strangles his words and it’s all Derek can do to hold him tightly as Spencer cries, whispering every reassurance he can think of through his own tears. It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks. I shouldn’t know this just because of an argument we had; just because I lost control. Spencer should’ve been able to tell me on his own terms, in his own time.

He tries to cry as silently as possible, but it’s not easy when the grief of knowing the pain Spencer’s suffered in his life is weighing heavy on his chest, and the acidic taste of guilt abounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Spencer’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s sorry for so many things he’s not sure he could list them all out, neatly and coherently, if he tried.

Spencer fists his hands in the soft cotton of Derek’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

Derek balks at the guilt in his tone, as if he actually believes he has anything to apologise for. “Baby, you could’ve waited until we were old and grey to tell me and I wouldn’t be mad, okay? Trauma like this… it comes out in it’s own way in it’s own time. I’m not sure how or when I would’ve told you about Buford if everyone hadn’t found out the way they did. And if I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t be mad at me, would you?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that I triggered you the way I did, Spencer,” Derek says seriously, gently twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “It was inexcusable, and it was a problem of my own making. I know you didn’t mean to leave the oven on and I know you were operating on auto-pilot when you told me you turned it off last night, and nothing I said was true. I was mad about stuff that happened yesterday and I failed to communicate that. It’s all on me. Nothing about this is your fault, you hear me?”

“Really?”

The way Spencer cranes his neck to look up at him, the trusting innocence in his eyes both breaking and warming Derek’s heart. “Really.”

“I want to tell you, Der, it’s just—” He sighs. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and it’s hard. I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, baby. You can tell me everything all at once, or drop tiny pieces of information when you feel like it, or never tell me anything else ever again, and any of that is perfectly okay. I just need you to know that what happened this morning will never happen again, okay? I promise you.”

Spencer shifts, moving from his position curled around Derek to prop himself up with one arm, facing his boyfriend properly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” He kisses him again before moving the duvet and making to get up. “Now, how about I order us some pizza for lunch and we spend the afternoon in bed. You can read or we can watch some documentaries or a movie, whatever you want.”

A small smile crosses Spencer’s face, and nothing’s ever felt more like a win.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @moreidtrash @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @enbyspencer @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby

[lil-pine-mha-drabbles]

can i request tokoyami or tetsutetsu with a

s/o that has adhd? :)

Tokoyami x Reader with ADHD.

There are so many different types of adhd and I didn’t want to disrespect anyone with how I wrote it so I placed in my own adhd. This is ligit how I act every day and I apologize if it’s not what you were looking for.

Also I saw you said s/o instead of boyfriend or girlfriend so I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible. I usually only write for female readers so I will try my best with this.

I really hope you like it! Here are some people that inspire me! @alpha-bnha-boys and @random-mha-thoughts

There are 1140 words to read below the line!!

————————————

Weeks ago you were sitting on the couch in the common room with Tokoyami when you got this sudden urge, his feathers looked so soft. You slowly reached out and touched your boyfriend’s face as he flinched and froze up. You petted his black feathers as he coo’ed for the first time. He cuddled into you, his head in your lap as you pet around his cheeks and under his chin. You continued the head pats for a while, heard some chirps you’ve never heard from him, and you smiled brightly at his cute sounds. After that first day it became an unspoken rule that after a long day, Tokoyami would lay in your lap and you would both relieve stress through it.

When you were with your classmates you were loud and fast talking, speaking your mind quickly to get to the point before anyone shushes you. Although most times you were shushed by everyone, except for Tokoyami and Kaminari, that’s why they were your closest friends.

You stared out the window of Aizawa’s class and watched some birds fly outside, reminding you of your boyfriend. You looked around a bit at the room of bored teens and an equally bored teacher and decided that you should listen.

After three minutes of listening you started doodling little eyes and flowers into your notes, little faces came to life on the page as you sketched their tiny little noses, and you imagined the little car you drew to drive off the page and down the side of the desk and then wondered if it would crawl up the desk next to you or go under the seat.

Your eyes followed the path you thought best for the small car until it “rolled” up the ceiling and “fell” on your desk. You then decided you wanted to speed run the whole path again and your eyes darted around the room to match what path you made earlier, restarting whenever you got it too wrong.

You were pulled out of your “car racing” when your boyfriend patted your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turned to him, he sighed when he looked at your notes covered in drawings.

“Schools done for the day, it’s time to go to the dorms.” He gently grabbed your bag and you got up excitedly.

“Can we make ramen!?” You asked him excitedly, and you could’ve sworn his beak shifted in a small smile.

“Okay.”

You talked about the most random things as you passed the school buildings on the way to your rooms. Sometimes Tokoyami had to pull back the conversation to bring you to a conversation he was still interested in by a few phrases,

“Can we go back to that one thing, I’m still thinking on the topic”

“Oh, wait, we were talking about the other thing. Can we go back to that I’m still confused.”

He always made sure you knew he was still interested and if you wished to skip over a subject, all you had to do was say the word and he wouldn’t bring it up again.

You became a little quieter when you reached his room and opened the door for your birdbrain.

You looked at his black nails and watched how the color was chipped in some places.

“We need to paint them again,” you said as you shut the door.

“Paint, what?”

“Oh, your nails. They’re getting all chippy again.” You crawled into his lap when he jumped unceremoniously onto the bed. He carded one hand through your hair and you held the other, plucking off little pieces of each nail until the whole hand was clear of the black polish.

When you dropped his hand another came in its place and you started on that one. Since his hand would be at an odd angle if he played with your hair this time, he picked up his poetry book and read some aloud. He told you which ones he wrote before he read them and at the end of each one you dropped his hand and clapped lightly to the wonderful words.

When you finished re-painting each nail, he wrapped up the poem he was reading and gently put the book back on the side table. The room was rather bright, and considering brightness keeps dark shadow in line, you didn’t bat an eye the first time you came in his room. White walls some pastel stuff and of course, a lot of black.

You sat up excitedly and patted your lap, he turned suddenly and flopped down onto your thighs. “Where’s dark shadow? I’ve barely seen them today.”

“They usually calm down when you’re around so I’m not sure where they are.” That was his last full sentence before he melted into a chirping mess. He coo’ed and shrilled gently and it made your heart soar.

While one hand pet your boyfriend you took a picture of him to send to Kaminari who would most likely laugh. You hugged Tokoyami when he said it was time for bed and kissed his beak which in return, nuzzled your face gently.

You slept soundly that night. Something watching you protectively from the shadows.

When you woke in the morning, a package was on your desk, brown paper packaging tied with white string, in the bow of the string was a dried rose. You knew it was from your lovely boyfriend before you had to open it, he always gave you dried roses to keep or do as you please with it. You smiled and untied the ribbon, the box opened suddenly to reveal pictures on every wall of the box. One of you and him at the beach, he looked very bashful in his swim-trunks and sunburned shoulders, one of you both cuddled on the couch with the fireplace, that was taken at his parents house it must’ve been taken by his mom because his dad was in the background and you and Tokoyami were dead asleep. There were countless others that made your face break into a smile, Tokoyami was a hopeless romantic.

“Do you like it?” You jumped a bit when Dark Shadow’s voice spooked you.

“Yes I do. Where were you yesterday?” You asked incredulously.

“I was making this for Tokoyami. It took forever by the way.” You smiled at your boyfriend’s quirk.

“Were you watching me last night? I felt weird.” They nodded quickly.

“We want to keep you safe.”

“That’s fine, just tell me next time you’re going to do something like that.”

A knock on your door had you turning your head, and you watched as Dark Shadow slunk under it.

“Hi!” You hugged your boyfriend when the door opened.

“Hello, love. Did you like the gift we made?” You pulled Tokoyami onto your bed and hugged him excitedly.

“Yes! Thank you.”

[insomniasymphony]

Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader [He cannot hate you]

Constellation: Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader Words I got: → Protective → Duality → Affection Rating: Teen up and Audience

                            ►► He is the devil with a sweet tooth,                               And you are the candy on his tongue.                       Get on your knees and ask him to choose                                     Nothing sweeter than you.                              For sweetness doesn't last long. ◄◄

Hectically, you jerk your head from left to right, look around for other cars and take a breath when there are no others blocking the road. In the cold evening air, your legs carry you in hurried steps across the asphalt, to the other side of the pavement that should lead you through the houses of Yorknew. Further and further, until the hotel room is forever gone.

The breath on your lips rises in white clouds, bringing something wistful with it that you don't want to pay attention to. Still, you can't rid yourself of the thought in the back of your mind.

It's not too late to give up on your plan.

You could drag yourself back to the room you've been sharing with Hisoka for four days, put on something pretty and wait for the magician to return from his meeting. He'd tell you about his new plan, kiss you, and fuck your senses into no-man's land for half the night because you're his favourite toy.

That's the problem: you're just a doll that can be replaced.

He's never said that he loves you, even though you've been spending every spare minute together for six months. Hisoka took you on his journey and he hasn't let you out of his sight since.

You shower together, eat together, he kills anyone you exchange too many kind words with. It's as if he wants to shut you off from the world so that you belong to him alone.

But this obsessive nature of his is nothing but terror for you. Sometimes you long for freedom, which you know Hisoka will never give you. He would rather strangle to death with his own hands than see you go. His subliminal threats make that clear time and time again.

And tonight you are ready to die for your freedom.

A little more hastily, you hurry ahead, turn into a narrow alley and hear the echo of your footsteps rising up the stone walls. Each reverberation makes your skin seem colder under your soft woolen coat. The goosebumps don't subside, the shiver persists, and you can't help but believe that behind every shadow is a part of Hisoka. His intense gaze has made you paranoid.

Briefly, you shake your head. This time his eyes won't be able to pierce you. When Hisoka returns, the hotel room will be empty and you will be long gone – so far away from him, with a new name and a new life, that he won't find you. For three weeks you have been looking for someone who would save you and Hisoka from this relationship and you have indeed found someone who wants to fulfil all your wishes for a lot of money in exchange.

Your gaze wanders once briefly over your shoulder. Through the echo of your own flight, you can no longer perceive anything but your own movements. Hisoka could be walking right behind you and you wouldn't notice. The racing of your heart makes the blood rush in your ears and everything else inside you is so erratically tense that you don't know if your nerves can hold it all together.

Only when the alley ends and sends you between other streets to find safety, a tiny part of the fear falls away, still simmering underneath.

Across the street, at least fourteen cars have parked. This area of the city seems like a residential neighbourhood where men return to their loving wives. The husband old-fashioned in a suit while she wears an apron because dinner is boiling on the cooker. Docile women in the kitchen who have no time to look for other men. Probably that's exactly what Hisoka is longing for too. A woman who only has eyes for him. All day long. Without exception. Locked up like a bird in a cage.

Even though you never intended to replace him. Hisoka is the man who won your heart. A guy who goes through life strong and ruthless, but always takes great care to make sure you're okay.

Your steps slow down as you stop at the edge of the pavement. One of the vehicles is started, flashing its headlights three times. The sign that this is your getaway car. The man who will take you away. Away from Hisoka, whose arms have wrapped protectively around you more than once in the last six months. His warmth on your skin has always been comforting and even though you know he hates it when you talk to other men and he has left marks on your body as a safety for himself as a result, his company has always been loving. He has never hurt you unless you found sexual pleasure in it. He never raised his voice at you. Never did he try to lock you up. His only crimes are the threats that still jump through your senses and also the fact that he likes to corner and intimidate you.

On top of that, he messes with people for your sake who are more dangerous than one might think at first. Yes, you love him. But if you don't leave, he will either throw you away or he will be killed because of you. You are poison to each other, you can't explain it any other way.

Yet, you don't want to go. The fear in your heart has made room for sorrow and the desire to run back into his strong, protective arms is strong.

Swallowing dryly, you give yourself a push. You have no choice but to make the best decision for both of you. Your feet start moving again and you drag yourself along, reaching the car you're getting into. You find room in the back seat, the fabric of which clings to you strangely and uncomfortably as you take a shaky breath and look in the rearview mirror for a half-glimpse of your helper's round face.

“Are you ready, good lady?” His smoky voice scrapes through the atmosphere, merely making you nod before he finally starts the engine and drives off. Your heart sinks four floors deeper, smothered in grief and fear, both of which settle on too many things in your chest. Maybe you're making a mistake, but this relationship has no future.

You feel the car smoothly take the turns, hear the engine accelerate, sense every bump in your bones. You claw your sweaty hands into the upholstery as you reprimand yourself to rest with conscious inhales and exhales. It's over, you've escaped, given you both the freedom you deserve.

Yorknew's houses diminish for a moment, bringing trees and the parkland to the fore where you would have loved to have a romantic walk. But Hisoka doesn't think much of boring strolls. He likes sex. Togetherness where you are close to each other – all to yourselves, so that you can snuggle up to him and you just sit there. Amusement parks. Bungee gum. You.

The thought draws a sigh from you before the car makes a strange rattling sound, forcing the driver to stop. You halt at the side of the road, so you can't help but hold your breath.

“What was that?” you press out.

“If I saw right, I just accidentally drove over a marten,” the stranger returns to you, making you exhale because it's not a horror movie you're in after all. Then he gets out.

The open door, which he doesn't close, brightens up the inside of the vehicle, makes the outside world a little more unfriendly than it really is and forces you to get out too, because you can't find a quiet minute alone on this upholstery.

Slowly you push your way back into the cold of the darkness, glancing at the streetlights flickering conspiratorially before circling the car to check on your driver. But all you see in front of the bonnet is a trail of blood. Not a marten. No one. Probably he's just taking the dead animal away, burying it so the kids won't get spooked in the park the next day.

The cool air seems to bite down to your bones, numbing your skin as you count off two minutes. The restlessness keeps you looking around and for a moment you are willing to jump in the car and eagerly drive on. But your driver also has your new identity and all the other things that have been so painstakingly prepared. You can't leave without him. So you stroll a few steps towards the park. Just until the blackness seems to swallow everything, because the flickering streetlamps don't give enough light for more.

Tense, you cross your arms in front of your chest, bobbing up and down before gnawing fear begs for action. “Hello?”

Only silence returns to your question and you can't help but take a step over the dark threshold and venture further ahead to find your driver. Three, four feet ahead to the first tree closest to you. “What's wrong?”

Again you meet only silence, staggering a few more steps ahead and giving up in the same breath. A glance over your shoulder moves the car, which is already a few metres away from you, into a ghostly, almost lonely picture, apart from the other vehicles that pass by every now and then. No one seems to care about the abandoned automobile.

A little more annoyed, you take a breath, shake your head as something wet hits your cheek and you instantly look up because the sky didn't look like rain at all when you started running.

And it still doesn't.

Nevertheless, your heart stops for a beat.

Cold seems to consume you from within, makes you pull your coat tighter.

Up there, above you, fixed between branches, the lifeless eyes of the man who was supposed to help you escape stare back at you. His arms hang twisted above him and his legs are missing entirely. In the darkness, suffused with moonlight, you can only make out the bitter facts. And one of them is death.

“Do you like it?”

Instantly you suck in the air sharply, turning around in an instant only to catch sight of Hisoka. Leaning relaxed against a tree, he shuffles his cards as if nothing has happened. “I thought we had decided that you would wait in the hotel room. Where were you going with that man at such a late hour?”

His gaze lifts so that his amber eyes can look at you, while his features wait in a lack of enthusiasm for answers. You don't know if he's angry, but his expression seems to threaten you.

“I-I... I wanted to...” What do you want to say anyway? You don't know yourself what exactly you wanted other than to just get away from him for too many things that seem wrong. “Away.”

“Where to?”, Hisoka inquires, pushing himself off the trunk and coming closer. The cards disappear into the pockets of his white trousers in the same blink.

“Just... away,” you counter, unable to look at him any further because his eyes seem to look right down into your core.

“From me?” He pauses in front of you. “Why?”

Again your attention jerks to him and you hate the fact that he is wearing heels because it only makes him taller than he already is.

“You... are... constricting me.”

“Is that so?” The almost biting undertone in his voice is frightening. But you don't have time to think of what his next move might be as he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him very closely. His grip is so tight around your jawbone as he does so that you panic he might break it.

Then he leans towards you, breathes such a gentle kiss on your lips that, along with fear, terrible warmth rises up inside you. Your heart races wildly, but you don't know if it's the fear or the longing. Seeing him like this, knowing he is so close to you, is cruel because you love him, don't want to leave him, but don't want to see either of you die either.

The mere thought of losing him, or not being good enough anymore, knots your stomach as your vision blurs and the sobs in your throat quietly spill out.

Hisoka watches this rection, loosening his grip around your chin and running his thumb over your lips. A little like he wants more words from you. And you can't help but give them to him in a gush.

“I love you, Hisoka. I really do. But this can't work.” You have to swallow to keep from breaking into a raspy cough. “You lock me up like I'm your pet and you're messing with people who might kill you one day.” The first tear rolls down your cheeks unintentionally, making you wipe it away in frustration because you don't want to seem like an effeminate damsel in distress. “You're going to kill yourself because of me. And if not for that, then one day you'll just throw me away because you're not a man for life. And I'm afraid that by then I'll love you so much that I won't be able to stand it. So I was gonna let you go. And I can understand if you hate the decision, but isn't that the duality you love to talk about? Love and hate, both sides of the same coin? I-” Hisoka interrupts you as he takes your face in his hands and forcibly pulls you to him, far enough to force you onto your toes to press a kiss to your lips. A warm touch full of affection so gentle it takes your breath away.

Then he lets go of you, remains close in front, but his features are adorned with a friendly smile that makes him a little suspicious, while his hand caresses your cheek. As he does so, he brushes your lower eyelid, collecting another tear that was about to escape.

The tenderness he has for you irritates you so much that every one of your brain cells shuts down for a breath before Hisoka focuses on you again, piercing you with a blank stare. The atmosphere between you grows heavier.

“You think too much about nothingness, love.” His voice is so soft that it seems almost deadly at the same time. “And because you're like that, I'm going to let you get away with it for today.” He leans down to your ear, licks once over the shell with the tip of his tongue. “But if you run away again, I will kill you.”

“H-Hisoka...” You don't know what you can say to appease him. Nothing seems good enough. But Hisoka understands, straightening up to look at you again, putting on that playful smile he goes through life with. “Or I can put you in chains so I can have you with me for the rest of my life. Whichever option you like better.”

He tilts his head, looking at you with mockery and at the same time with a barely perceptible commitment so that you can feel the blush on your cheeks. On one hand, he's making a fool of you, on the other, he's conveying in his own unique way that he's sure he wants you for himself – forever.

He can't stay mad at you for long, can't even punish you for your terrible action, just takes you as you are, as if he has a weakness for all your stupid words and your troubled feelings.

And in those seconds you know that he loves you no less than you love him.

[Picture from a card collecting game]

[Want to give me kudos or a request? Check here!]

[coexiising]

Good Neighbors - Chapter One

SUMMARY ✦ You were excited to learn that someone was finally moving into that old house next to your own. The Skywalker-Amidala family seemed like a great addition to your friendly neighborhood, with their two twin kids and happy personalities. Though, the more you get to know your neighbors, the closer you get to the husband of the family: Anakin Skywalker.

WARNING(S) ✦ Modern! Anakin Skywalker, Alternate Universe, Infidelity, Eventual Smut, not so slow burn, Eventual Romance, Neighbors, and they were neighbors, anakin looks so good in a suit, sneaking around, forbidden love

NOTE ✦ I’ve been wanting to write a Modern! Anakin fanfic for a while now, so here we go! This will be a multi chapter fic, I don’t know how many yet but expect a lot because I’ve got some ideas to play out! This chapter is more of an introductory, but expect some more spicy drama in the next coming chapters. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

As tradition goes every year, you could smell the smoke coming from the middle of your neighborhood's culdesac while you made your way outside your garage with your mother, who held a large tray of potato salad in her hands that she insisted she carried herself over to the white tables in the distance. It was hot outside, early July was coming strong this year with the heat, reaching a staggering eighty nine degrees outside and it was already well past noon. Though, you should’ve been expecting the heat, since it seemed to creep up on you every time this yearly cookout happened.

It had been a little tradition, jokingly deemed a ‘holiday’ by your younger brother, that had been going on for as long as you could think back to. You could remember being five years old and running around with the neighborhood kids and jumping into your pool after eating the bountiful amount of food that was supplied for the families that participated. It used to be a handful of them, three or four families that came and had a small little barbeque together. But over time that changed, and now it became a whole neighborhood thing.  

The dads of the block always started earlier to get everything set up, which was really the long white tables where food could be set and setting up the large grill on the pavement. And the moms always slaved away in their kitchens making some type of side dish, whether it be fruit cups, potato salads, or whatever. You were twenty two now, almost done with your undergraduate degree, and you wondered if you would ever find this sense of friendliness anywhere else when you eventually moved from your home. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave, it was just more convenient for you to stay and you didn’t mind your family that much. They were supportive, there for you no matter what, and your home was close to your University anyways.

“I wonder if Lisa is going to wear that ugly dress she bought the other day,” Your mother stated, making short, languid strides next to you. “She brought it to the house a few days ago when we were having a little wine date and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was definitely not twenty five anymore and that dress did not hug her in the right places.”

You laughed, jokingly hitting your mom on the shoulder. “Mom, come on, it can’t be that bad.” She didn’t respond, only grinning towards you with a hint of playfulness filling her eyes behind her thick, black sunglasses. Your eyes scanned the crowd already forming, kids on the outside running around with a ball. You knew a lot of them, even held some of them as babies after they were born. But when you took another glance at the group, you saw that there were two you didn’t recognize. A boy and a girl, both looking similar to one another and the only difference being the slightly different shades of their hair. “Mom, who are they?” You asked, pointing to the girl and boy who were now fighting each other for control over the soccer ball.

“Oh, they’re the kids of the new neighbors,” Your mom answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You looked over at the house next to your own, a two story one with white coloring and many windows. It had been for sale forever and it became quite the local news when someone actually bought it. You guess you hadn’t realized that the people who bought it were now occupying it. “They’re twins, I think. The mom and dad are on the younger side too. Courtney says that the husband is working at that law firm down on first street and apparently the wife wants to run for senator in a year.” How the hell did she know this much about everyone? You shouldn’t even question it at this point, since she was friends with all the neighborhood moms who loved to gossip.

Looking around for any unfamiliar faces, you were surprised to see none. Were they not coming out for the cookout? It seemed like the perfect place for them to meet everybody. “Oh!” Your mom exclaimed. “I forgot the tongs on the kitchen counter, could you go get them for me, please?” Without a second thought you nodded, turning on your heel and making your way back towards your house. As much as you loved your mom, you were sometimes annoyed with her forgetfulness, especially because you asked her if she had everything three times before you left just a few moments ago. Oh well, it wasn’t that big of a deal, you would be in and out in no time.

You walked up the well cut grass of your lawn to your front door, sandaled foot almost hitting the concrete when you heard the creak of another door. It belonged to the door of the house beside you, the light tapping of shoes making their way onto the patio filled your ears, feeling somewhat foreign since you weren’t used to hearing anything from that house. You wondered what it looked like inside, if everything was rusted and worn. It had to have been almost ten years since someone lived there.

But when you turned to finally get a look at your neighbor, your thoughts were completely halted.

Your mom was right, he, most likely being the husband, was on the younger side. He had to be in his early thirties, still a lot of youth painting his broadened features. His skin was lightly tanned, it was hard not to notice the way that the sun seemed to do a good job in painting his long, muscular arms that reached to close the door behind him. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and black pants, though it wasn’t like something that you had seen other dads wear before, it was more formal, more pristine like he was trying to make an appearance. But if the story checked out, he was supposed to be a lawyer, it was his job to look professional. You continued to look at him, almost shamefully so as your eyes trailed from his clothing to his face, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and the blues of his eyes that very much reminded you of the light blue sky above you now. And then to his hair, which was cut short and had a golden glow to it.

Right as you were about to turn and get into your house, the ball that had been with the group of kids came flying your way, hitting against the door next to you and making you jump at the loud noise. It was lucky that it didn’t fly through a window, or your parents would’ve gone ballistic. You could hear some of the parents start to shout at the kids, telling them to stay away from the houses if they were planning on kicking that thing off of the ground. The same kids you were questioning earlier ran up your lawn, most definitely to retrieve the ball that would’ve hit you dead on if you hadn’t been gawking at their father.

“Luke, I told you to not kick it that way!” The girl, Leia, yelled towards her brother, a little stomp in her step as they made their way towards you. You picked up the ball and held it in your hands, kneeling down and waiting for the kids to approach you. Luke shook his head, shaggy hair falling into his eyes and saying, “It wasn’t me! It was that other guy over there. Why do you always blame me!” You laughed, the dynamic almost reminding you of you and your brother when you were younger.

Handing them the red rubber ball, they both gave you a small ‘thank you’ and Leia muttered a tiny ‘sorry’ and they went on their way. Watching as they went, you didn’t even realize that someone else was walking up to you. Still kneeling, you looked up and saw that it was your neighbor, looking down at you with a tiny, pleasant smile on his face. You blushed, realizing the awkward position and stood up, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks and offering a smile to him as well. Being this close to him, you could see that he was tall as well, standing a good couple inches over you. Usually this would’ve made you feel intimidated, but for some reason it made you want to draw closer to him. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking this way, knowing that he was your new neighbor, and not to mention he had two very cute twins and a wife who was probably beautiful.

“Sorry about that, I hope they didn’t scare you that bad,” He said, taking a glance at his kids who were already starting another round of whatever game they were playing with the others. His voice was low, but there was a sense of calm to it. It wasn’t rough or gravelly, almost like honey as he spoke to you. “I haven’t seen you here before, do you live here? I think I’ve seen your mom and dad around but we were waiting until the cookout to introduce ourselves.” Kind of a stupid question to ask since you were standing on your porch with your keys in your hand, though you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, um,” You thought back to the day you saw your neighbors two cars parked in the driveway, was that a Sunday? No, it was a Monday. “I’m usually around here more but last week I had to pick up a couple shifts at work to help my friend.” Your coworker and friend came down with the flu and had to find someone to cover her ships ASAP, and you weren’t doing anything important and stepped in to help.

He nodded. “Makes sense. I’m Anakin Skywalker, you already met my kids but they’re Luke and Leia.” Skywalker. A strange last name that confused you for a moment, realizing that you’ve never heard of anything like that before. Then again, you hadn’t heard of the name Anakin either, but somehow the unique name fit him.

“Y/N,” You responded, giving him a nod.

“Y/N,” He said, like he was testing the name out on his tongue. You tried to ignore the feeling you got when you heard it come out of his lips, which were very nice by the way when you took a second to glance at them. It sounded good in Anakin’s voice, and you found yourself wanting him to say it over and over again if he would. There was a moment of awkward silence between the both of you, a random amount of tension that you didn’t know if you were imagining or not. Then Anakin opened his mouth again to say, “My kids were looking at the pool in your yard the other day when they were exploring our backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said. “They’re welcome to come over any time and use it if they want.”

“Are you sure?”

It was normal for the people in the neighborhood to use it if they wanted to. It was a big underground pool that had been built when you were a little kid. “Yeah, everyone does. Just make sure to ask someone before and they’ll most likely say yes. We like to get the most out of it every summer.” You realized that you were supposed to be back with your mother, she was most likely getting antsy as to what was taking so long. So you took the opportunity to leave, even though you wouldn’t mind staying and talking to your new neighbor for as long as he wanted to. He wasn’t just attractive, you thought that he was nice too.

“Well, I need to get something from the house and get back to my mom. See you later, Mr. Skywalker.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Just Anakin is fine.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Right, see you later, Anakin.” He gave you one last smile and right as you turned around, you could’ve sworn you saw a wink. You turned on your heel, ignoring the eyes he clearly had on you and making your way into your house. The moment the door was closed, you leaned against the wood and closed your eyes, replaying that last moment over and over again in your head. Had he really winked at you? Or was that just your mind spinning some kind of fantasy?

Oh, Christ.

It was hard to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

[glassartpeasants]

Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child. 

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on? 

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass. 

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment. 

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.  

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red. 

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car. 

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri. 

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home. 

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless. 

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore. 

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary. 

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening. 

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down. 

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips. 

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father. 

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words. 

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

[rentsturner]

Jealous | Obi Wan Kenobi

req: Congrats on 300, Liv!!!!! I'm so proud of you! May I request 16 with Obi? 16 - claiming you

wc: 1.7k

warnings: modern!au, creepy behaviour from a side character, hint of self deprecating thoughts, obi being a little possessive and jealous but in a hot way. Fluff at the end.

a/n: this started as a blurb but it got too long . Thank you Brit for helping me with this idea. Sorry it’s taken so long.

The bar was packed, the chatter and bustle of a Saturday night almost drowning out the thumping beat of music playing from large speakers. You and Obi-Wan had been invited out for a friend’s engagement celebration, expecting to find a small gathering when you got there but instead being faced with an enormous party in full flow. But you’d taken it in your stride, catching up with all your friends, exchanging stories and jokes, and soon time was flying by.

Obi-Wan was engrossed in a game of pool with Anakin, leaving you to fend for yourself for a while. It was fine of course, you were perfectly comfortable with your friends, and you knew how often he missed out on spending time with his own mates. So you had taken yourself over to the bar to get another Diet Coke, sliding onto the stool and grabbing the server’s attention.

A rustle of clothing alerts you to another man’s presence at your side, a clipped voice straining to be heard through the bar’s non-stop noise.

‘I’ll have what they’re having.’

You had hoped to be left alone while picking up your drink, but you could feel this man's gaze burning into the side of your head. With a silent huff of indignation, you turn towards the newcomer and you’re faced with brown eyes, dark buzzed hair with a few nicks at his temple, clean shaven angular jaw and cheekbones, and a wide grin.

‘Hey, how have you been? You remember me, right?’

The man continues grinning, arms opening outwards and he turns his body towards you. No. You don’t remember him. You stare at his face a little harder, wracking your brain for a name. After a few seconds, you recognise the man as one of Padme’s friends. Michael? Matthew, maybe?

‘I’m Mitchell? Mitchell Connor?’

Mitchell looks at you with wide eyes, seemingly upset that you’d forgotten him. You nod quickly, not wanting to cause a fuss.

‘Of course, Mitchell, hi.’

You offer a small smile and he takes it gratefully, offering to buy you another drink and making conversation. He asks you about your life, your job, your family, even your opinion on politics. He barely gives you time to breathe with his onslaught of questions. But you answer dutifully, Mitchell seems friendly enough. Even if he is weirdly interested in your taste in men.

Thirty minutes later and Mitchell is still talking to you. You had left the bar a while ago and wandered over to Mace and Padme, talking to them in an attempt to throw off Mitchell. But it hadn't worked. He’d just tagged along and slotted himself into the conversation, standing next to you and inching ever so slightly closer as the minutes passed by.

Padme gave you a confused look from across the small circle, gesturing to Mitchell with a questioning gaze. Her brows furrowed in concern. She was your best friend, after all, and she could tell Mitchell was getting on your nerves.

‘Where’s Obi?’ she mouthed silently at you.

You just shrugged and looked away, not wanting to draw Mitchell’s attention to you even more. He was getting uncomfortably close now. You shuffled to the side a little, but he just followed you. You could see his arm in the corner of your eye, twitching slightly by his side as if he was tempted to take your hand in his. The idea of it made you shiver, and not in a good way.

Where was Obi-Wan? Surely his game of pool had finished by now. You looked around, trying to find that familiar head of auburn hair but the room was so packed in some places it was hard to tell where one person ended and another began. An unbridled thought rushed through your head. What if Obi had seen someone else at the party? Someone better looking than you, more interesting? What if -

A strong arm suddenly wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a lean muscled chest. You jumped slightly, squirming out of the grip as you thought it was Mitchell pulling you closer. But instead a soft, welcome voice whispered into your ear.

‘Are you alright, darling? You seem a little nervous.’

A sigh of relief left your chest and you turned to look at Obi’s familiar face, his eyes bright with concern and his hair hanging slightly out of place. The pool game must have gotten competitive. You just squeeze his forearm tightly in reassurance and whisper an affirmation.

‘I’m fine.’

A small smile. You don’t want Obi to worry, not when he’s obviously been having a good time.

‘And who’s this then?’

Mitchell’s voice is too loud, too intrusive, even though it’s paired with that wide grin. A fake grin, you’re sure of it. Obi-Wan’s arm tightens around your waist and he seems to draw himself up to his full height, obviously confused to why this man is so comfortable with getting close to you. You can feel his heart begin to thud violently against your back. Obi-Wan had never seemed like the jealous type to you, but apparently you had assumed wrong. Maybe he’s realised that this overbearing stranger is the source of your concern. But Obi stays silent and just watches Mitchell as they both wait for you to answer.

‘Obi-Wan, this is Mitchell. Mitchell, Obi-Wan. My boyfriend.’

You emphasise the ‘boyfriend’ as much as you can without making it too obnoxious, hoping that Mitchell gets the idea. He doesn’t, of course.

‘Well, we were just talking about ideal partners actually. It seems me and y/n have got a lot in common.’ Mitchell smirks.

Your jaw drops. Did he seriously just say that? You absolutely have nothing in common. You grit your teeth in frustration. What an idiot.

You can practically feel the hostility rolling off Obi-Wan as he takes in Mitchell’s words. His other arm comes to wrap round your waist, pulling you into him even tighter. Obi’s jaw clenches as he looks Mitchell up and down with furrowed brows, before slowly turning to you.

‘Don’t you think it's time that we were leaving, love?’

Obi’s voice is raised slightly, making sure Mitchell can hear him. He kisses your cheek softly, tilting his head so that his stubble nuzzles against your skin as he stares sternly at Mitchell, who has decided to speak again.

‘You don’t want to stay longer? We were having fun -’

Mitchell stops suddenly as he watches your boyfriend’s attention turn to your ear. Obi-Wan’s actions are slow and deliberate as he kisses the lobe, moving up the edge and letting his bottom lip drag obscenely over the skin, eliciting a shiver that runs up your spine. You have to stifle the moan threatening to leave your mouth. Obi-Wan nips the cartilage at the top of your ear, his tongue darting out to sooth the bite before finally pulling back. He stares Mitchell dead in the eye with a devilish smirk, almost daring him to continue talking, daring him to make his move. But for the first time in the whole night, Mitchell’s mouth closes and no more words come out.

‘We’re perfectly fine thank you.’ Obi’s voice is a purr in your ear, seemingly friendly, but the notes are dripping with an unspoken threat towards Mitchell. ‘Aren’t we, darling?’

You turn, kissing Obi’s stubbled cheek happily and taking in Mitchell’s equally shocked and annoyed expression with a burst of satisfaction. You’d never seen this side to Obi-Wan before, usually such a gentleman, but tonight his possessive side was coming out. And you were loving it.

‘Yes. Let’s go.’

You push past Mitchell as he stumbles back, seemingly lost for words after Obi-Wan’s display. Quickly, you offer your goodbyes to all your friends, promising to speak soon. And then Obi is leading you out into the fresh air, the claustrophobic atmosphere of the bar left behind as you step into the cool car park. Obi chuckles, swinging your hands up and down as you walk.

‘He seemed to like you. A little too much’

‘Tell me about it!’

You were glad that Obi had calmed down a little now, all too aware of how tense he had been only minutes ago. But there are subtle signs; the clutch on your hand that was just slightly tighter than usual, the shaky exhale of breath steaming in the cold air, the slightly wild look to his usually composed countenance. They were all signs that remnants of adrenaline were still rushing through Obi-Wan’s veins. He’d never say it out loud, but you knew that Obi still got insecure about your relationship sometimes, the fear of losing you for good always present in his mind. Sometimes he just needed a bit of reassurance.

You cup his face in your hands, tugging him down slightly so you’re face to face. His eyes are deep pools of blue, staring into yours, just tempting you to dive into their depths. So you dive.

‘You know I love you, right?’

Obi-Wan’s cheeks flush a light pink, a grin spreading across his face as he moves his hands to mirror yours. His hands are cold against your skin but you shiver into his touch, craving more contact, more of him. He rubs his thumb over your cheekbone before leaning in to press a chaste kiss on your forehead.

‘And i love you too, my darling.’

An idea pops into your mind and you grin widely in excitement.

‘Movie night?’

You look up at Obi-Wan with the wide eyes that he can never resist. Not that he would want to say no anyway. Obi’s love of cheesy rom-com is notorious among your group of friends, and you had spent many evenings cuddled under a mountain of blankets and pillows, crunching on salty popcorn and giggling through all of your favourite films. He’s a true romantic at heart.

Strong hands pull you into a warm hug and you can feel Obi-Wan’s deep laugh vibrating in his chest as you rest your head there, his woollen jumper soft against your cheek. It’s warm and it’s comfy and it smells of him.

‘Of course. It’s been a while since I watched 10 Things I Hate About You anyway.’

~*~*~*~

obi tags : @ohhellokenobi @doublesunsets @snips-n-skyguy0501 @karasong @callmearwen @thedevilwearsbeskar @rosionis @profkenobi @stardancerluv @goldenkenobi @fenharel-enaste @corellians-only @weirdfangirl2416 @a-seeker-of-imagination @saintlaurentkenobi @justanotherpadawan @hawkerz12 @crazycatladyjenga @xxinvisiblexx @million-dollar-legs @imafatassmess @i-am-i-am-obiwankenobi @letmybabysleep @thejunkster @fishswimbetterunderwater @katsav17 @haydens-moles (Taglist link in bio)

[daddy-chiluc]

Sing You To Sleep | Chiluc Week Day 2

College AU/Only one bed/preforming arts

Chiluc Fluff | M/M

TW: Explicit Language

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“This is absolutely not happening.” He whispered under his breath, nails biting into his palms as he marveled at the vast room before him. The view of the city was beautiful, the balcony promising endless nights of twinkling lights and gorgeous starry skies. A full sized bed in the centre of the room lured him forwards, gently laying down his violin case to succumb to the soft sheets of the bed.

He took in a deep breath, relaxing as the faintest of smiles shyly touched his lips. The warmth of the linens was enough to almost lull him to sleep. To his dismay, a knock rang through the small room just as his eyes began to close. Hesitantly, he sat up, walking to the door to find his professor and a classmate behind him. Childe.

“Mister Ragnvindr,” he nodded, turning to present the out of breath ginger than gave a cheeky grin, monster and guitar case in hand, “Due to the sudden addition to the performances this week and lack of available rooms, Ajax here will be sharing this room with you for the remainder of this week.” And there goes his brief moment of relaxation. Gone within seconds.

Of course he’d be the one to pair with him. There had been an odd amount of people who had signed up for the trip to the Mondstadt Theatre, well known judges and critics there to give them feedback and training before their big show by the end of the week. He just so happened to get the short end of the stick and be the only person with their own room. It was nice for the five minutes it lasted.

It was rather rude the way Professor Zhongli had pushed him into the hotel room — his eyebrows stuck in a permanent state of irritation with each twitch as he tried to keep a friendly smile. Childe had stumbled in, eyes wide and glued to the guitar case, stickers and writing covering the case. They looked like…children drawings? Perplexed, Diluc saw it fit to ignore the matter for now.

“Hey…uhm,” a subtle hint of pink dusted along the other’s cheeks, stretching to his ears, “You’re that violin player right? With the solo this week?”

“Yeah, what about it?” His voice was heavy and almost intimidating…if it wasn’t for his beauty.

“I just thought…well, I…you’re just really cool.” He stuttered, his voice soft as he scratched at his bird’s nest of hair. It was rather endearing the way he was so…so shy around him. Typically he’d see him causing some form of ruckus at the college, in the middle of class. Always having crazy ideas to try different notes here and there, different instruments in one piece and another singer in this piece. Yet, when it came to Diluc’s performances and practices, he’d be silent. Dead silent, eyes wide in a childish wonder and fascination that always confused Diluc. It confused him to a point he’d try to ignore it but no matter how hard he tried, he’d always be there, eyes sparkling in amazement in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you.” It was blunt, quick and straight to the point. He wasn’t in the mood to dwell on such pitiful small talk. It annoyed him, wasted his time…not that he had anything to do to begin with. To be honest, for some reason, the other had annoyed him. Annoyed him so much so he found himself rolling his eyes subconsciously.

“…There’s only one bed.” Horrified, Diluc’s head turned to look at the full sized bed that once promised peaceful nights, now mock him. It mocked him as the faint sounds of car horns blared in the background, drowned out by his anxiety that prickled and pinched at his skin, “I can sleep on the floor.” His kindness was a harsh stab to his gut. Of course he had to be this nice to him after he berates him in the deepest corners of his mind.

“It’ll be alright, we’ll just put a pillow in between us.” Him and his stupid puppy dog eyes guilt tripping him and making him feel bad. Fuck him for being cute. Diluc’s cheeks flushed a deep red at the sudden thought. Surely not. No. Absolutely not. There was no way he found Childe cute.

He found Childe cute.

Earlier that afternoon he had bought them food, insisting on buying the most expensive food he could find, and coming back with enough food to hold them over until dinner. He’d gone off to explore, giving Diluc the option to go with…and when he returned, he came in with bags in multiple sizes, an elated grin plastered on his face.

“This is for you!” He handed him a bag and inside it was a numerous amount of keychains — animals all in the color red and a little rose keychain inside, “I didn’t know what to get you.” There were a lot of red items, a dog, cat, pheonix, a slime, you name it, it was probably buried in the vast amounts of knick knack items. He remembered trying to give them back, desperately trying to get him to take them back…yet he insisted he keep them. So he had, attaching the phoenix keychain to his violin case.

When night came he was more than anxious. His heart would thump in his chest, his mind busy with far too many what ifs and possibilities for sleep to come easy. Surely he knew he detested him. Why else would he go off and spend his money on such intricacies? It didn’t make any sense. He was sure he disliked him. Of course, his…assumption was quickly disproven.

With fiery cheeks and wide scarlet eyes, he caught glimpse of Ajax — black sweats with droplets of water streaming against every dip and crevice of his upper body. He could hear a faint wince, the sound muffled by the towel he used to dry his hair. The pull and twitch of every muscle didn’t aid Diluc in stilling his heart and gathering his breath.

“Sorry about that,” he laughed, his voice light and airy as he headed to his shirt, discarded and almost forgotten on the floor, “Dropped it on my way over,” Slipping it on, it was rather baggy, the sleeves coming down to his elbows as he yawned.

“Right, I’ll…” he paused, cerulean blue eyes gazing down at him, “I’m gonna go down to the lobby to see if they sell tea…you can head to bed if you’d like.” He smiled softly, his kindhearted demeanor — far calmer than his normal chaotic self — was rather off putting. It made Diluc’s spine shiver with anxiety and his skin rise with goosebumps. He watched as he headed out the door and for a brief moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with his freedom.

Deciding to wear a faded, gray sweater and black shorts, he turned off most of the lights, leaving on the desk light for when Ajax had returned. Undoing his hair tie, he crawled beneath the sheets, letting his weight sink into the soft mattress. He wasn’t sure how long he was alone in the hotel room, but he heard the soft click of the door opening, the lights twinkling and distant sound of cars driving below not doing much to overpower the quiet noise to ease his worry.

He could hear every step he took — they were hesitant and quiet, almost scared to move in fear of waking him up. Truthfully, Ajax had never been more terrified. Part of him wanted to check and make sure he was asleep, but he knew if he had, he wouldn’t be able to look away. Diluc Ragnvindr was beautiful. Far beautiful than anyone he’s ever laid eyes on…so to even be allowed to sleep beside him doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel like he should. So his best bet?

His acoustic guitar. It would be loud, without a doubt, but he’d play it out on the balcony and keep the door shut. It wouldn’t do much but it would be enough. So, undoing the clasps of his case, his fingers running over the pictures Teucer, Anthon and Tonia drew for him, he gently picked up his acoustic from it’s case as he slipped outside.

Sitting outside, he let himself be soothed by the gentle breeze, the pads of his fingers coming to rest flat against the strings before he strummed, checking each string to tune them before mindlessly playing. It didn’t take much, it was almost second nature. He could stare off and simply play, his calloused hands having a mind of their own.

There were numerous questions that poked and prodded at Diluc’s mind, all of which he chose to ignore in favor of listening to him play. The sound was beautiful, he couldn’t help but get swept up within its current, letting it drag him into a sense of security he hadn’t felt in quiet sometime. Minus how rambunctious Ajax could be at times…he was rather relaxed.

Choosing to set that aside for now, he could smell the aroma of the tea, chamomile, as it’s scent filled the rather small space. Leaving the comforting, warm embrace of the bedsheets, he covered his hands in the sweater as he carried the scalding hot cup of tea out to him. The slide of the door was enough to grab his attention and he swore he could feel his heart almost jump out of his throat.

He was stunning. Too cute for him to handle in all honesty. His hair a fountain of red as his locks began to shine under the city lights. Part of him desperately wanted to run his fingers through his hair, braid it, brush even if he was just cradling his head, he’d be satisfied.

“Your tea will get cold.” His voice was quiet. Very quiet. Almost out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was because of how tired he was.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, it takes me awhile to sleep. You didn’t wake me up.” His kindness felt out of place. Sudden. Ajax wasn’t sure what to make of it, he was so used to Diluc giving him the cold shoulder, it was different having him treat him like this.

“Let me sing for you?” It was abrupt as he gulped, his jaw clenched as he searched those scarlet eyes. From where he sat he couldn’t see a single sign of hatred or resentment.

“Sing for me?” Ajax nodded, as he gently set the guitar against the wall.

“I could help you sleep tonight. Only if you’re okay with that though.” Diluc knew why he accepted his offer, he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Ajax wasn’t a bad person…he was just…Ajax. There wasn’t much else he could say. Maybe he just needed to hang around with him for a little while longer and get to know him better. This seemed like a nice start though. For now.

Crawling back into the warm linens of the sheet, his hair pooled around him as the soft pillows sunk under his head. The taller male slid in beside him, practically melting into the warmth of the bed as the comforter covered them both.

“Any requests?” He smiled, the small pull in his lips reminding Diluc that yes, he was in fact sharing a rather small bed with Ajax.

“I don’t care, so long as they aren’t children lullabies,” he grumbled, fingers twisting in the bed sheets as his eyes fluttered shut from time to time. Turning on his side more, Childe studied him, thinking briefly before lying on his back. It was just to help him sleep, he wouldn’t get onto him about form would he? All well, guess he’ll found out in the morning.

“Fly me to the moon sound good to you?” He whispered as he turned his head. His breath catching in his throat. He was relaxed, his cheek resting against his palm as he hummed. The faint blue lights seemed to make his skin glow even more.

“Yeah…,” he whispered as his shoulders sank forward. So that’s what he did, he sang for him. His face burning bright enough to light up the room as tiny snores soon filled the room. He didn’t mean for his eyelids to get so heavy. For him to fall asleep next to him, the promise of a pillow to separate them quickly forgotten as they bathed in each other’s warmth.

“In other words…,” he mumbled as his heavy arm came down to wrap around his waist, “In…other words….”, he voice became a hushed whisper, eyes falling shut as the end of the song rang in his head.

I love you.

*

Waking in a panic to find himself cuddled beneath Ajax, he shoved him off the bed, a loud thud ringing through the room.

“Ow! Fucking shit—!” Curses and a mix of Russian spewed from his mouth as he held his head.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Diluc’s panic didn’t ease as he groaned, laying flat against the floor.

“Just…just give me a moment,” he sighed, laying flat against the floor.

“C’mon and sit on the bed, I’ll go get ice for your head.”

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[dontcare77ghj]

Five

Four times Peter didn't ask for a hug, and one time he did.

Tony x reader x Steve x Bucky

Peter Parker was quite possibly the sweetest kid in the world. When you'd first met him at thirteen, you thought he couldn't get any more. He'd come into the Tower with wide eyes, refusing to use anyone's first name, as he ran around Tony's lab.

He didn't grow out of the first name thing until after May had passed, and the four of you had adopted him. 

But he was still the sweetest kid in the world. And bubbliest, smartest, cutest, whatever cute verb you could think of, could be related directly towards him.

It was probably because of how sweet the kid was no-one could help wanting to hug him.

"Hi Miss Black Widow, I mean, hi Miss Romanoff." Peter stammered as he and Tony entered the living room.

"Peter, I thought I told you it's just Y/N." You smiled at him. "Are you having fun with Tony, Pete? He's not distracting you too much, is he?"

"Excuse you! I am the least distracting person ever! Aren't I spider kid?" Tony asked, throwing the teen a drink. "You want food, spider kid? I know what your metabolism is like."

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said, standing in the kitchen doorway. Tony narrowed his eyes at the teen and grinned when Peter's stomach growled. 

"Sure, you are. Take a seat. I'll put on a pizza." Tony ordered him. 

"Come on, Pete. You can sit next to me." You said, patting the couch beside you. "I was about to put on a movie."

"What are you putting on?" Peter asked as he gingerly sat next to you.

"Corpse Bride." You smiled. "It's my favorite."

"It's her comfort movie," Tony called from the kitchen.

"Now who's spreading lies?" You asked, throwing a pillow in his direction.

"It's okay to have a comfort movie. Mine's the Lego Movie." Peter told you.

"I don't think I've ever seen that one." You admitted, causing the teen to gasp.

"We have to watch it after the Corpse Bride," Peter said firmly. "You can't go through life without watching it."

"Okay. I can agree to that. Are you going to join us, Tony?" You called, leaning your head back on the couch.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He said, entering the room. "Do you want this back?" He teased, holding up the pillow you'd thrown.

"Give it." You demanded, making grabby hands.

"Alright, alright, bunch up, you two," Tony said, coming over and jumping onto the couch.

"Bloody hell, Tony." You groaned, shifting closer to Peter. 

Remains of the Dead had just finished when a loud alarm jolted you back to reality. 

"That's me," Tony said, grabbing his phone as he stood. "Pizza's ready. I'll bring it in." He added, pressing a kiss to your cheek before exiting the living room.

"Are you okay, Miss, uh, Y/N?" Peter asked you.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, I'm not better company today." You apologized, rubbing your eyes as you shifted on the couch.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm enjoying today, honest." Peter promised, shifting closer. "Corpse Bride is a classic."

"It really is." You smiled, resting your head against the back of the couch.

"How come this is your comfort movie?" Peter asked.

"When I babysit Clint's kids, we always make forts and watch movies. One day I wasn't doing so well mentally, so Lila dragged me downstairs, and we watched Corpse Bride and Coraline all day." You told him with a small smile. "It's a comfort. It makes me not feel so alone."

"You know you're not alone, right, Y/N?" Peter questioned you after a second. "Sometimes, it seems like you're alone, and it feels like it, but you're not alone. And I've been told I'm a pretty decent listener you can always talk to me."

"You're too sweet for your own good, you know?" You commented, kissing his temple as you pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Pete." You said, releasing him from the hug.

"Okay, so somehow both the pizzas burnt. What do you say we order in?" Tony asked as he rushed back into the living room.

Non-reader POV

Though Peter preferred working in the lab with Tony, once a week, Peter trained with one of the Avengers. Just because he was an enhanced spiderling didn't mean he didn't need combat training.

It was usually Steve or Bucky who trained with Peter. Thor would when he was on world because the three were the only ones who could handle getting hit by the spiderling. 

Today Steve was working with Peter. 

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late." Peter hurried as he ran into the training room. "I got held up on patrol. A cat got trapped in a gutter, and when I tried to get it out, I realized it had kittens too. And then I had to find a box so I could take them to a shelter-"

"Pete, kid, it's okay. It sounds like you've had quite a day." Steve smiled. "Isn't that your third trapped cat this week?" Steve asked as Peter dropped his bag in the corner.

"Yeah, the poor guys keep getting stuck." Peter chuckled. "Alright, I'm ready. What are we doing today?"

"Offense," Steve told him. "Your defense is getting much better, but you still need to work on your offense. We'll do a couple of laps to warm up, though."

A couple of laps didn't actually mean two or three with Steve. A couple of laps usually meant twenty to thirty.

"On your left!" Peter exclaimed, passing Steve on his twelfth lap. 

"First, that was my right. Second, you're never allowed to talk to Sam again." Steve groaned as Peter laughed giddily. 

"Mr. Wilson said you'd get it. He also said it's payback." Peter informed him as he zoomed past.

"Alright, that's enough warming up," Steve said after the twenty-second lap. "Come on. We got to work on your offense now."

"I thought my offense was good. That's what you said last time." Peter recalled.

"I said it was good, but we all saw you get thrown through a building last week. That means extra training." Steve informed him. 

"Okay fine." Peter sighed.

"You're pulling your punches," Steve announced after several minutes. "I thought we agreed you don't pull your punches with me?" Steve asked the teen who flushed and refused to meet his eyes.

"I know," Peter mumbled, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Okay. Water break time." Steve announced, leading Peter over to a bench. "Pete, what's going on? You haven't pulled your punches with me for months."

"I'm just trying to watch my strength," Peter mumbled. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Peter, I've already told you I can take it. You're not going to hurt me." Steve promised the boy, taking a seat beside him. "But you can't pull your punches in training. You can't do it on the field, and you can't do it here."

"I could hurt you, though. I don't want to hurt anyone." Peter told him.

"I know, Pete. I know you don't want to hurt anyone. I trust you, Peter. You're not going to hurt me." Steve assured him. "Do you want to try that again?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded after a minute. "Yeah, let's do it again." He said, jumping to a stand.

"Alright, let's do it, kid," Steve said, standing and pulling Peter into a quick hug. "I'm proud of you, Pete."

Tony was in bed with all three of his partners when he got the call. He'd quickly moved to pick up his phone before it could wake his partners.

"Hello?" He asked after he left the bedroom. "Tony Stark speaking."

"Mr. Stark. I'm Veronica Montgomery." Veronica greeted. "I work for Queens Hospital Center. May Parker was admitted three hours ago after her nephew called 911. Unfortunately, May Parker passed away around an hour ago. Her nephew is in the waiting room, and you are listed as Mr. Parker's second emergency contact."

"I'll be right there," Tony said without hesitation. "Don't let Peter leave. He'll be coming home with me." Tony told Veronica as he rushed to the elevator. 

Tony hung up soon after that and rushed into the closest car he could.

"JARVIS, if Y/N, Steve, or Buck, wakes up, inform them what's happened," Tony said as he was halfway to the hospital.

"Of course, sir." JARVIS agreed.

Tony sped as quickly as he could to the hospital and barely remembered to turn off or lock the car when he arrived. 

"Peter!" Tony shouted as he raced into the waiting room. Peter sat slumped in a plastic chair, eyes blankly trained on the floor, and didn't react at his name. 

Tony rushed forward until he was standing right before the teen who still did not react.

"Pete?" Tony softly asked as he kneeled in front of him. "Come on, kid. Talk to me." 

"Tony?" Peter whimpered, finally looking up at Tony. 

"Yeah, it's me, kiddo." Tony nodded. Tony watched as Peter's face began to crumble, and then he had his arms full of a sobbing spider kid. "It's okay, Pete. You're going to be okay."

Peter didn't respond, merely clung tighter onto Tony as he continued to sob loudly.

"Come on, Pete. You're going to stay at the Tower tonight." Tony said after Peter had quieted. Peter numbly nodded as Tony helped him stand.

Tony led the teen back to the car, where Peter curled into a ball. Peter didn't say anything the entire drive back to the Tower. Tony had to look over multiple times, checking if the teenager was asleep only to see him wide awake and blankly staring out the window.

Tony helped Peter out of the car when they arrived back at the Tower, and half carried him into the elevator.

Every Avenger had a floor they occupied at the Tower, except Peter. Peter had a room on Tony, Steve, Y/N, and Bucky's level.

Upon entering his bedroom, Peter stumbled forward and landed first face on his bed. The exhausted teenager was asleep in seconds. After covering him with a blanket, Tony moved back into his room to see his partners sitting up awake.

"How is he?" Y/N asked him.

"Asleep." Tony sighed, collapsing back in bed. 

"Did he tell you what happened?" Bucky asked him, drawing circles on Tony's neck.

"No." Tony shook his head. "The poor kid started crying once he saw me and didn't say anything after that." 

"Jesus. Poor Pete." Steve murmured.

"I want to adopt him." Tony blurted out. "He doesn't have any other family, they'll put him in the system, I can't let that happen. He's just a kid."

"I'll support you, Tony." Y/N told him. 

"We all will," Steve said as Bucky nodded in agreeance. 

"He won't be alone."

Peter was rarely asked to go on Avenger missions. Spiderman was the friendly neighborhood kind of man. He kept mostly to the ground. 

This made all four of his adoptive parents, and adoptive aunts and uncles, very happy that he was safer than they were. 

But when the fifteen-year-old was asked to join his family on a mission, he rarely said no. 

In this case, though, he didn't exactly need to be asked.

"You're supposed to be at school, Pete," Tony said as Peter swung onto the scene.

"Little hard to focus on Algebra when the city's being invaded," Peter commented, webbing a creature in the face. "What are these guys?"

"I'm not sure, but considering how much Thor's enjoying himself, I'm assuming they're Asgardian," Bucky grunted.

"Enjoyment doesn't equal knowledge." Y/N reminded the soldier. 

"Hey, Thor, you know these guys?" Bucky shouted at the God who was boisterously attacking the creatures.

"Of course!" Thor boomed back. "Loki and I would play with them as children! Why I skinned my first at seven!"

"Okay, disturbing facts aside, how do we defeat these guys?" Natasha asked.

"Find the Queen!"  Thor informed the team. "Once she dies, the whole colony follows!"

"How can you tell who's the Queen?" Steve asked, slamming his shield into the chest of a creature.

"She's the biggest and the deadliest!" Thor cheered.

"Joy." Y/N groaned. 

With Thor's advice, the team began taking out as many of the creatures as they could. 

"Dad!" Peter shouted, rushing to Bucky's aid as several of the vile creatures surrounded his injured father. 

Peter quickly webbed the monsters into a ball, and webbing that ball to a wall.

Peter dropped to his knees beside his father and pressed his hand onto Bucky's bleeding shoulder.

"We have to move. You can't stay here." Peter said, pulling the man to his feet.

"I'm fine, kid." Bucky groaned as Peter dragged him through the street and into an abandoned building.

"You're bleeding," Peter argued, pushing Bucky's hand onto his wound. "Hold that." He ordered.

"What happened to respecting your parents?" Bucky joked.

"You'll get your respect when you're not bleeding," Peter told him, grabbing scraps of cloth.

"You're not going to be able to fix it," Bucky told Peter, taking the fabric and holding it to his wound. "I'll have to get Bruce to look at it later. Go on, kid, I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you. What if those things come in here?" Peter argued. Just as the words left Peter's mouth, the door burst open, and several monsters rushed into the room.

"You had to jinx it, didn't you?" Bucky sighed, grabbing his gun with his metal hand.

In tandem, Peter and Bucky disposed of the creatures. 

"Duck, Pete!" Bucky ordered, raising his gun. Peter did as he was asked and ducked low. Bucky quickly shot the creature that was behind Peter, and suddenly the remaining monsters turned into rubble.

"I think you might have got the Queen," Peter said, rising to his feet. Bucky laughed slightly before pulling Peter into his arms.

"You're okay, right? They didn't get you?" Bucky asked, pulling Peter's mask off.

"I'm fine, dad." Peter nodded. "I promise."

"Good." Bucky sighed, embracing his kid again. "What do you say we find your mom and other dads?"

"Sounds good."

Reader POV

Peter hadn't been acting like himself for the past several days. His regular bright and sunny disposition had turned moody. He hadn't gone out on patrol in days, an activity he was usually all too eager to do, had seemingly dreaded going to school, and had shut himself off from his friends and family.

"Are you sure we can't just ask him what's wrong?" Tony asked aloud. "Why aren't we allowed to ask him?"

"Because he's a teenager, Tony." Steve sighed. "All the books say he'll shut us out even more than now if we do that."

"Fuck your parenting books," Tony grumbled. "I bet half the people who wrote them have never had a child."

"We need to give him space." Steve reasoned with Tony.

"We've given him space." Bucky cut in. "This is different to when May died. He's different." He added as the elevator dinged. The four of you went quiet as Peter trudged in.

"Hey, kiddo." You greeted him with a bright smile. "How was school?" You asked him.

"Fine," Peter mumbled. "I've got homework." He said before he shuffled into his room. 

"Tony's right." You began as you stood. "Fuck the books." You said before marching down the hall. "I'm coming in, Pete." You loudly told the teen and opened his door.

Peter was not sitting at his desk when you entered but was instead huddled in a ball underneath his quilt.

"I don't remember ever getting homework like this." You commented, strolling in and taking a seat on his bed.

"You didn't go to a normal school. You went to an assassin school." Peter mumbled.

"Well, you're not wrong." You said, chuckling a little. "What's going on, Pete?" You asked, laying a hand on his back. "I need you to talk to me."

"Nothing's going on. I'm just tired." Peter denied, popping his head out of the covers.

"Don't think that bullshit will work on me." You shook your head. "Assassin school, remember? Reading body language is a class." You told him. "Peter, we're scared. We don't know what's going on with you."

"Nothing's wrong." Peter denied again, though this time, his voice cracked.

"Pete, please." You begged. 

"You're not alone, Pete," Bucky announced from the doorway. "We're all here for you." He added as he, Steve, and Tony entered the room.

"Always have been, always will be, underoos," Tony added, sitting at the end of the bed.

"Promise." Steve nodded, sitting next to you.

Peter looked between each of you before he broke. Peter sat up in the bed and pushed himself into the corner as he started sobbing.

"Pete." Steve started, reaching his hand forward only to pull back when Peter flinched.

"Peter, you have to tell us what's wrong." You said, clasping Steve's hand tightly.

"Please, Peter." Bucky pressed. The four of you sat in anticipation, waiting for Peter to calm himself so he could explain what was happening.

"We have a new social studies teacher," Peter whispered, avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Westcott. He asked me to stay behind after class last week.  He wanted to talk about my work, and then he started touching my shoulders. I didn't think anything of it until the next day."

"What happened the next day, bud?" Tony quietly asked him.

"He made me touch him," Peter whispered. "I didn't want to. I didn't. But he said if I didn’t do it, if I told, he'd make someone else do it. He threatened Ned." Peter told you all.

"Peter, what else did he do?" Steve asked.

"I wanted him to stop." Was all Peter said.

"Y/N, get your gun. I'll grab mine." Bucky said, pushing off the wall.

"Wait, both of you stop," Steve said, grabbing your hand as you stood. "You can't kill him."

"Why not Steve?" Bucky growled, folding his arms.

"He hurt our kid." You snapped, pulling yourself free. 

"Don't kill him," Peter begged. "Please, mom, dad, don't kill because of me."

"He's not getting off scot-free." You sighed, sitting back down. 

"Not in the slightest." Tony agreed. "I'm thinking of the SHIELD prison."

"Why can't we just throw him in a pit, and throw away the pit?" Bucky muttered.

"Peter, what do you need, kid?" Steve asked, looking at Peter's small form.

“Whatever you need, you can have it.” Tony agreed. “A therapist, a new car, a trip to Legoland with Ted?”

“I’d really like a hug.” Peter admitted, his voice breaking.

“Come here, Pete.” You said softly as you opened your arms to him.

Peter leaped forward and buried his face into your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and rested your head on his. Peter let out a content sigh as Steve, Bucky, and Tony also joined the hug.

“I’m sorry.” Peter whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Steve told him, running his fingers through Peter’s curls.

“Nothing at all.” You agreed.

“We’re going to fix this. We’re going to help you.” Bucky promised.

“We promise, kiddo.” Tony added.

Taglists and requests are always open. 

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore

[anna-justice]

Superman - Upstead

Summary: Jay and Hailey are a part of an officer involved shooting, the aftermath puts Hailey in a very dangerous situation, causing her and Jay’s lives to be at risk. (Pre-Established Upstead)

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood & gore, swearing, angst, over-protective Jay

Requested: Yes! #71, “Get away from him/her!” & #74, “He’s/She’s not yours.”

…

“5021 George, we are in pursuit of the offender on foot. The offender is armed, all units advised. Send back up to the corner of Garden and North Malcom.” Jay said into his radio as he and Hailey raced down an alleyway. They were in a nicer part of town, the streets were more open and Jay could see an open field at the end. “Hailey, I’m gonna cut him off.” Jay called out to his partner, before darting out of the opening. He beat them to the end, taking off as the offender exited the alleyway. 

Jay sprinted towards the large man, tackling him to the ground. He knew he had a gun, but it was his only choice. They rolled across the grass, Jay immediately trying to get the upper hand. Hailey caught up, drawing her weapon. “Chicago P.D. Stand down!” She shouted from yards away.

The offender was restless, flipping them so that Jay was pinned underneath. Jay kicked him in the groin and knocked the gun out of his hand. Neither of the men had noticed Hailey’s presence, and when Jay reached behind him to grab the gun, the man punched square in the jaw, disorienting him. The man smiled, standing and grabbing his gun, pointing it at Jay. 

There was a loud pop, followed by a thud. Jay sat up immediately, seeing his partner with her gun raised. “You good?” She called out, racing towards him. 

“Yeah.” Jay said, jumping up and kicking the gun away. He wiped the blood from his nose as he checked the guys pulse, he was gone. 

Hailey sighed as she reached her partner, “That was stupid.” She said sternly.

Jay nodded, “Yeah, I know.” He looked her in the eye, holding their gaze, almost like a silent apology for scaring her like that. They were interrupted by the sounds of sirens. Patrol had made it to the scene. Pretty soon the field was flooded with officers and crime techs. 

“What happened?” Voight asked, finally arriving on scene. 

Hailey shrugged, “He ran as soon as we knocked on the door, Jay tackled him, he had a gun. It was us or him.” She explained. Jay nodded, backing her up.

Voight gave them a short nod, “Well, I guess that’s justice. Let’s head back, we’re back to square one.” The two nodded, bidding him goodbye and walking back to their rig.

They had been working the case a few days, it was a quadruple rape and homicide. The offender they were chasing was Jason Forbes, they knew he was one of them abusers because his DNA was found on all four victims, but now they were looking for his partner. 

Jay jumped in the driver's seat of the truck, Hailey following suit on the other side. “Thanks,” He said, once they were settled. “For earlier…”

“Yeah, Of course.” Hailey said, smiling at him. “You're my partner, I’ve always got your back.”

…

It was a long day full of almost no leads, it was like the trail died with Jason. There wasn’t even anything to chase down. All they had was everything they knew above Jason, and no one he knew met any of the criteria they were looking for. No one looked good. 

Eventually, Voight told them to all go home and get some rest. Hailey suggested getting a drink, Jay didn’t do well cases involving children, especially rape cases. Plus, she knew he was beating himself up over his attempted arrest earlier. They agreed to meet at the pub a few blocks away from Hailey’s apartment. It had become their own personal Molly’s. 

They sat at a high table near the back, the only thing it was near was the old fashioned jukebox, that they were both sure didn’t work. “How’s your nose?” Hailey asked, taking a sip of her beer.

Jay chuckled, “Fine, thanks.” 

Hailey put her hands up in surrender, “I’m being serious, he hit you pretty hard.” She was trying to hide her genuine concern behind the humor, cause she couldn’t get the image of that man standing over him with a gun out of her head. 

“I’m a little sore.” Jay admitted, sighing. “But, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He smiled softly, making direct eye contact yet again. 

Hailey shook her head, averting her gaze. “You’re acting like I took a bullet for you.” 

Jay shrugged, “Close enough.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them really knew what to say. There was a cloud looming over the table. It wasn’t lost on Hailey that if she had been just 10 seconds later, Jay might be dead. And Jay knew how close he came to death today, just because he overestimated his own abilities. They came close to losing each other, but wasn’t that the job? It wasn’t a new thing, but it felt different. 

About an hour later, they walked out of the bar. Heading towards the parking lot to their separate cars. Jay walked a little behind her, he wasn’t ready to part ways yet, but he didn’t know how else to make her stay with him. “Hailey-” He started, but something caught his eye.

“Yeah?” She asked, turning around.

A car passing on the street slowed slightly, the back seat window rolled down and Jay saw the tip of a long gun. “Hailey, get down!” He shouted, sprinting and tackling her to the ground. Bullet after bullet hit the brick wall behind them as Jay used his entire body to shield her from the fire. When the assault finally stopped, they both waited a few seconds before sitting up. Jay grabbed Hailey’s shoulders, scanning her body. “Are you okay? Are you hit?”

He subconsciously placed a hand on her cheek, running his thumb over the pavement burn just above her jawline. Hailey placed her hand over his, “I-I’m fine. Are you okay? What the hell just happened?” She asked, taking his hand as he helped her stand. 

“I-I don’t know. I saw the gun and-” Hailey cut him off by launching herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around him. Jay hugged her back immediately, holding her close. She was shaking, Jay combed his fingers through her hair. “Hey, it’s okay. We're okay.” They stood there, wrapped up in each other for a few minutes before a patrol car rolled up. 

“We got a call of shots fired?” The guy asked, stepping out of the car. 

Jay pulled up the bottom of his shirt, showing the officer his badge. “Yeah, a black SUV rolled by and just started shooting, I couldn’t get plates.” 

While Jay talked to patrol, Hailey looked around, finding a set of security cameras. “Hey Jay!” She called out, she got his attention immediately. “We should check with the owner and see if these work.” She said, pointing up at them. 

Jay nodded, “You guys call for backup, I’m gonna go talk to the owner and call my sergeant.” He ordered, clicking on Voight’s contact information. It was going to be a long night. 

…

“Matthew Zimmerman.” Kim said, taping his picture to the board. “That’s who the car is registered to. Now, there is no obvious connection between him and Jason Forbes other than them being in the same facebook chat room.” 

Kevin turns his computer screen so that they can all gather behind it. “We didn’t find it before, because somehow Jason was able to make it unassessable on all his devices. It’s called the Misunderstood Brotherhood, and it is an invitation only, unmarked room. So you can only get in with a code from an invite.” 

Kim continued, “We searched through all of the members and there are near 75 in the Chicago area, many of which are registered sex offenders or have previous allegations against them.” 

“So, it’s a bragging ground for rapists?” Jay snapped, leaning on Hailey’s desk and crossing his arms. 

“Sort of.” Kim said.

“Most of the messages are pretty disturbing, they talk about urges and possible intent, but they are smart. There is nothing specifically incriminating, well, except for this.” Kevin scrolled through the chat, stopping so they could all read the bolded message. “This was posted yesterday afternoon.”

This morning, one of our brothers, Jason forbes, was shot and killed by Hailey Upton. A Detective in the Intelligence Unit out of the 21st district, badge #55055. We will not stand for this and we must avenge his death. The brotherhood will award a $100,000 reward to anyone who can eliminate the officer as a threat. Do us proud.

Hailey gasped, taking a step back. Her back hit her partner’s side, who instinctively wrapped a protective arm around her waist. “Holy shit.” Adam said.

“So last night, that was a hit?” Hailey asked shakily. 

Kim nodded, “It looks like it, and we can assume at least 200 other people have seen this message.”

Voight took over from there. “Alright, we need to get Hailey to a safe house. Halstead, you’ll go with her. I’m gonna call the ivory tower, they are gonna want to be in the loop.”

As soon as Voight shut the door to his office, Adam stood. “Maybe I should go with Hailey.”

Jay scoffed, “What?”

“I’m just saying, your head doesn’t really seem in the game.” Adam snapped, Jay’s arm wrapped around Hailey catching his attention.

“Do I need to talk to you?” Jay asked, his jaw clenched.

“Jay-”

Jay took a step forward, “Where the hell do you get off?” Jay asked, seething. “She’s my partner.”

“She’s not yours, Jay.” Adam said, getting in Jay’s face.

Hailey stepped forward, holding her hand up to Adam. “I’m not anyone’s,” She snapped. Jay took it as a chance to step back, the last thing he wanted to do was piss Hailey off. Hailey glared at Adam, shaking her head. She didn’t understand why he was causing such a scene. She turned to Jay, “Let’s get our stuff.” She stormed off to the locker room, Jay hot on her tail. She turned around exasperated when she entered the room, Jay cracked the door behind them. “What the hell was that?” She whisper yelled.

“I’m sorry-”

Hailey cut him off, “I won’t be the prize you two sword fight over. That was incredibly embarrassing, if Voight had been out there, there would be hell to pay.”

Jay slouched in defeat. “I know, I’m sorry. He just makes me so mad sometimes.” 

“Jay.” She said, “Do you really think I would have let Adam come with me over you?”

Jay sighed, “No.” 

Hailey stuck her arms out at her sides, emphasizing his statement. “Thank you.” She collapsed onto the bench behind her, running a hand through her hair. Jay cautiously walked toward her, sitting down about a foot away and leaning on his hands. Her fast mood changed, scaring him a bit. Hailey sighed, running her hands over her face. “There’s a bounty on my head.” 

Jay shifted a little closer to her, letting his hand rest on her back. “We’ll get through it.” 

Hailey looked up at him, something about the way he said we made her heart skip a beat. Before she could say anything, the door swung open and revealed Kevin. “Hey, you guys ready to go?”

Hailey jumped up immediately, sniffling. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

…

Three unmarked cars and a safety evaluation later, Hailey found herself sitting on a not so comfortable couch. For their own safety, neither of them knew quite where they were. There were alarms on all the windows and doors, so if someone tried to break in the team sitting in the house would immediately be alerted. 

Jay was pacing, his hands on his hips. Hailey huffed, “Are you gonna do that all night?” She asked.

“Maybe.” He deadpanned. 

Hailey rolled her eyes, “Can you please just come sit down.” She asked. 

Jay sighed, admitting defeat and sitting on the other side of the couch. “Better?”

Hailey smiled, “Much.” 

They sat in silence for a while, deciding to turn on the TV in front of them, not that there was anything good on. Jay snuck glances at his partner, even though he had been seeing more and more of it lately, it was nice to see her so casual. She had on leggings and a sweatshirt, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Her sock covered feet pulled up on the couch and tucked under her as she watched the screen absently. Jay watched the way the colors danced over her face in the dark room, smiling softly. He swore she got more beautiful everyday. 

Hailey looked over at him, blushing slightly when she found his gaze already on her. “What?”

Jay coughed, “Nothing.” He could see the gears in her head turning from across the couch. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“Eh, I don’t know,” Hailey shrugged, smiling weakly at him. “That we’re even now.” 

Jay chuckled, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“I-” Hailey started, “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” She looked down at her hands, feeling her eyes well up. “I know we put our lives on the line everyday, but…” Jay held his breath, her heart aching for her. “I could’ve died last night. I could have died last night, and you could’ve too, and that would have been my fault.”

“Hailey-”

“No Jay,” She said, looking at him with teary eyes. “You can’t talk yourself out of this one. You put yourself between me and a gunman and I just, I don’t understand.”

Jay shifted, moving a little closer to her. “Hailey. I will never not protect you.” 

Hailey sucked in a breath, his gaze hot on her skin. They had never been quiet about trusting each other, they both knew they would follow the other anywhere, that at the end of the day, they would be there for each other. But this, this was new. Not to him, he had always protected her, but for the first time in a while Hailey got a glimpse at how much she really meant to him. “I, uh, It’s getting late.” She rushed out, looking at her hands again. “We should get some sleep.” She stood, glancing back at him. 

“Uh, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed.” He busied himself gathering pillows from the other chairs and grabbing the throw blanket off the back, trying not to think about Hailey’s complete dismissal of his previous statement.

“Jay.” She said, and his head snapped up. “Are you really going to make me sleep alone tonight?” It was forward, she would admit. But the thought of sleeping alone in some random house while people were literally racing to kill her, wasn’t so appealing.

He stood, shaking his head. “No.” 

Hailey smiled, letting him follow her to the hotel-like bedroom. It was a big enough bed for two people, thankfully. Hailey pulled back the covers and climbed it, she hadn’t slept in over 48 hours and she was feeling it for sure. Jay climbed in cautiously, glad that he had a pair of sweatpants in his overnight bag and he didn’t have to sleep in his jeans. They laid on complete opposite sides of the bed facing each other. “Goodnight Jay.” Hailey said quietly.

“Goodnight Hailey.” 

…

Jay woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee. When he registered where he was, he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Hailey’s back was pressed against his chest and his arm was wrapped around her waist. He smiled to himself, careful not to wake her as he climbed out. 

The bathroom light was blinding as he flipped it on, waking him all the way up, he noticed he had creases all over his arms from the blanket. Means it was a good sleep. He thought, grinning. Honestly, he was surprised he was sleeping so well, given the circumstances. He guessed he was more dependent on Hailey than he thought, she really did calm him. 

He did his business quickly, itching to get back in bed and enjoy his partners embrace, even if it was for just one night. He was halfway back to the bedroom when he heard a loud crash. He took off running, and when he reached the bedroom, he saw a masked man standing in front of the broken window, staring a Hailey. 

The man took a step forward, not noticing Jay’s presence. Hailey woke up confused, screaming for Jay when she saw the man. “Get away from her.” He yelled, charging forward. The man pulled a gun, but Jay kept going.

“Jay!” Hailey screamed again, thinking her partner was crazy. 

Jay grabbed the gun, ripping it out of the guy's hand and punching square in the jaw. He tossed it on the bed, “The safety was on.” He said, getting on the top of the guy and flipping him on his stomach. Hailey jumped up and ran to her belt across the room, grabbing a pair of handcuffs and handing them to Jay. Jay cuffed the guy and pulled the mask off, revealing a younger man. Jay stood him up, “Let’s go in the kitchen, we don’t know if there are more coming.” 

Hailey nodded, following behind him. She removed the rounds from the gun and placed it on the counter, watching Jay sit the guy down on the floor. A few minutes later there was commotion outside and the pair immediately raised their guns. “Chicago P.D!” Someone yelled and they both sighed, relaxing. The rescue team kicked the door in and was surprised to find the duo alive and well on the other side. 

Jay picked the guy up off the ground and handed him over. “He came in through the bedroom window.” The detective nodded, hauling him out of the house. 

As part of protocol, Jay and Hailey were both checked out by paramedics. They went over details with the detectives and their team, hopefully giving the information they needed to get ahead of and take down the brotherhood. Eventually they found themselves in the back of another unmarked car, Hailey leaning into Jay’s side, she was physically and emotionally exhausted, way too exhausted to worry about how things might look or come across.

Jay held her close to him, letting his thumb rub over the fabric of her sweatshirt. Hailey yawned, “You really have been playing superman today.” She said groggily. 

“Yeah?” Jay asked, smirking.

“Yeah, you’re pretty good at it.” Hailey confessed, leaning further into him. “But don’t quit your day job.” 

Jay smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I couldn’t leave you stranded like that.”

Hailey smiled contently, “You better not, good partners are hard to find.” 

“Yeah they are.” Jay agreed, hugging her closer. Good partners were hard to find.

…

A/N: This got so long, sorry! I really like it though, I haven’t written anything like it. Thank you so much for reading! <3

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization” 

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He” 

Enjoy! 

--

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?” 

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.