#I hope they step on a Lego when they get up in the morning always

[miss-rum-hee]

Me, scrolling through Twitter: Wow, I've never heard of this artist before, but it's sad that she died so young.

The quote retweets:

@not-antisemitic-receipts

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the first couple of weeks of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2023! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

love is pain, pain is pleasure

A fic by louixamor on AO3 | @louixamor on Tumblr | @louixamor on Twitter

25k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

After a series of disturbing events threaten his safety, Louis has no choice but to hire a new bodyguard. Enter Harry, an incredibly attractive, judgmental asshole who hates Louis’ guts.

--

Good and Bad and Right and Wrong

A fic by TeamLouis on AO3 | @teamlouis2023 on Tumblr

5k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis angrily threw a pillow at his head, but Harry avoided it, laughing loudly as he slammed the door behind him. Louis bit his lip, grumpy and flushed and hard again, tension and arguments like this with his dear husband always a huge turn on. He knew it was his toxic trait, but at the same time, it was so good to let the tension build until it exploded under the sheets. So instead of pouting and groaning in bed, waiting for Harry to leave the house without him like he first intended to do, Louis kicked the sheets of his legs, stripped off his boxers –and gave his cock a few nice quick strokes, before getting dressed for the gym. Harry smiled widely when he joined him in the kitchen. Louis flipped him off. He promised himself he would have his revenge. Or the one where Louis doesn't want to go to the gym

--

The Wild Night to Memory Loss to Soul Mates Pipeline

A fic by thecheshirepussycat on AO3 | @the-cheshire-pussy-cat on Tumblr | @Bee_With_Mee on Twitter

18k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“What the fuck are you on—holy shit,” Louis gasps, looking down at his own hand to see a white gold band wrapped his left ring finger. “Wh-what is going on?” “Sure is a conundrum,” the man muses, realization flashing in his green eyes. “I-I’m not married, I can’t be married,” Louis mumbles to himself, staring wide-eyed at the ring, heart racing a mile a minute. AKA: Harry and Louis get drunkenly married in Las Vegas, as one does.

--

Smile for the Camera for It Knows Everything, Hollywood Star

A fic by daydreamlwts on AO3 | @daydreamlwts on Twitter

7k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 132- The story of Nancy Reagan being called the blowjob queen of Hollywood but it's Louis.

--

Three Men and a Baby

A fic by sun_flowr on AO3 | @escapades28 on Twitter

123k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis' life had been going along just fine. Until one morning when his entire world changes when he steps on a piece of lego belonging to a young boy who has randomly appeared in his flat. And with that boy comes his gorgeous father. His flatmate Zayn has some explaining to do but he's definitely not complaining, instantly feeling connected to these new additions. Over the span of a year, life gets crazy, frustrating, surprising and most importantly...filled with love. Prompt 548: For as long as Louis can remember, it has only been him and his best friend Zayn in their little flat, but when Zayn comes home telling Louis about his friend with nowhere to stay after a bad breakup, Louis suddenly finds himself sharing his flat with a gorgeous green-eyed man called Harry along with his adorable toddler son.

--

always an angel, never a god

A fic by outropeace on AO3 | @outropeace on Tumblr | @outropeaces on Twitter

40k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

To understand the level of deep water Louis was in, one first needed to know he has had the same best friend since he was five. Ethan Astor was family to him—a friend who he loved deeply despite their differences. A friend he would do almost anything for. So when Ethan came to him with the plan, no matter how he felt about it, Louis accepted it. At first, it was simple, he just had to flutter his eyelashes at any of the boys that showed interest in Ethan, and if they fell for it, he just dumped them without telling them the reason. Somehow, the rumors spread around campus that Ethan had an insufferable friend they had to somehow win over to reach him. Like a final monster before getting the princess. Or: Harry likes Louis’ best friend and there's a rumor that in order to get a chance with him, he should woo Louis first.

--

I (Don't) Really Care For You

A fic by crochetsunsets on AO3 | @crochetsunsets on Tumblr | @crochetsunsets on Twitter

11k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“There’s always the worst case scenario,” Zayn said while the subway pulled to a stop. “Get your heart broken. Then you can write through experience.” “Yeah, right,” Louis called after him while Zayn hopped off of the train. “You try falling in love in New York City.” or Louis' a writer who needs to learn heartbreak. Harry's a graduate student who doesn't want to break his heart. What happens when they come together--the inevitable, or something more?

--

The wounds that scarred our souls

A fic by Hazzaslittle28 on AO3 | @hazzaslittle28 on Tumblr | @hazzaslittle28 on Twitter

36k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Forever was nothing but a lie, Forever was just a ruse for the human heart, it gave you hope and then killed you. Forever was just a myth. Or Where Louis decides to leave everything behind, including his heart.

--

Cold Spring

A fic by nouies on AO3 | @nouies on Tumblr | @_nouies on Twitter

8k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Life went on as normal at Cold Spring Café. Sam’s scribbles remained indiscernible, Jake persisted on his idea of getting more pots for the shop, and Pedro…Pedro continued coming to drink his moderately-caffeinated americano, to write furiously in that notebook of his, and to captivate Louis to no end. or…Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

--

Love Me If You Dare

A fic by BoosBabycakes on AO3 | @boosbabycakes28 on Tumblr | @Boosbabycakes28 on Twitter

55k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry and Louis’ friendship starts with a game, after a simple dare. The two little boys quickly become the best of friends and referees of their own game. Unfortunately, as they grow up, they sometimes become the victims of it too. With them, everything is possible. They are capable of daring each other to do anything. But will they dare confess their feelings for each other?

--

Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

--

All roundups will be linked here:

Weeks 1-2 Roundup

Weeks 3-4 Roundup

Weeks 5-6 Roundup

Weeks 7-8 Roundup

Weeks 9-10 Roundup

Week 11 Roundup

[enchantedtomeethyun]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬: 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 -------------------------------

Ｃｈａｎ:

+Super excited to hang out because he is always working

+ Doesn't sleep and probably goes back to the studio after you fall asleep

+ Feels super bad though and comes back to leave a note at least

+ You guys were building with legos and left them on the floor so when he comes back he steps on them and Ouchie. You wake up.

+ Plz force him to sleep after that!

𝓛𝓮𝓮 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀:

+ Yay someone can watch the cats with him!

+ “hey can we go and do something else?” “ without the cats???”

+ He will take a late night walk with you but you gotta carry dori in a lil wrap thing around you.

+ buys you pudding ( complains tho)

+ Hogs all the blankets fr

+ Wants to do it next weekend because it was so fun for him ( say yes)

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗯𝗶𝗻

+ “ wanna go to the gym?” “ can we just watch a movie or something?”

+ makes you go to the gym with him so you can be his spotter ( I googled what that was)

+ Buys you lots of food after but complains about his muscles hurting

+ Falls asleep during the movie and wakes up at the end type of dude

+ Lets you sleep on the bed and takes the couch

♥ Hyunjin ♥

+ Pillow fights are violent but then you're both so tired after you take a nap

+ Wants to watch dramas with you and cry about love and stuff

+drinks wine with you and eats croissants he bought from the bakery across the street

+ accidentally will say he's in love with you while drunk and falls asleep after

+ Wakes up like (0-0) “ so about last night....”

【Ｈａｎ】

+ You're watching anime even if you don't want to watch anime.

+ He is so loud and it is like 3 am and you're on season two already

+ If you fall asleep he will tuck you in but draw on your face

+ “ good morning princess!” then gets scared seeing your face because he forgot he drew on you

+ Steals Hyunjin's sheet masks for a spa morning in hopes you won't notice your face

ᖴEᒪI᙭

+ Baking ! Buddies!

+ Brownies and cookies and cupcakes

+ Gossiper tbh

+Super sweet until you play video games and he cusses you out like the Australian he is

+probably bought you guys matching pjs :(

+ Wants to cuddle in his sleep and you can't say no to him because he is Felix

🅂🄴🅄🄽🄶🄼🄸🄽

+ the most normal sleepover finally

+ scary movie and popcorn night and he laughs at the people who die

+ doesn't want you to use him shower so you have to use the one on the other side of the apartment

+ sleeps like a corpse and doesn't move

+ will make fun of you if you snore ( and film it for the other members to see)

+ buys you a toothbrush so your breath doesn't smell in the morning in his face

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗

+Shopping at the mall until it closes

+ Takes so many pictures with you ( you're in his ootd post omg)

+ Is excited to see puss in boots and holds your hand during the “scary parts”

+ You get home at 11 pm and he wants to take his bubble bath

+ you fall asleep waiting for him and he falls asleep in the bath

[quietlyimplode]

@broken--bow my dear one, words cannot thank you for everything. How I wish they could. From your brain to my words. I hope I did it justice.

look at the stars. look how they shine.

Warnings: children witnessing dissociation, dissociation, grief. I swore I wouldn’t write endgame - but this is endgame with no death - snap happened but no one died.

Summary: Nathaniel and Clint build a marble run. (3k)

.

Nate yawns.

The Saturday morning makes him grin as he sits up in bed and pads out of his room to find his parents.

Saturday sounds already in the kitchen, and he finds his mum and sister already awake and eating.

“Hey sleepy,” his mum greets him with a kiss on the forehead.

He smiles at her and sits at the table, watching his sister draw arrows and people, Nate steals a pencil to help her.

“Nate, no!” she groans as he starts to colour in.

“Hey buddy, come sit over here,” his mum guides, and he frowns, wanting to draw.

He moves down the bench seat, and twirls the pencil, the green colour moulding as it spins.

He does it again, before it flies out of his hand and hits Lila.

“Nate!” she exclaims, exasperated.

His mum looks at him, with the look she gets when he’s not quite in trouble, but on his way there.

He frowns.

“Come grab some pancakes.”

He’s guided to the bench again, and he picks up two, opting for chocolate syrup and sugar.

He gets strawberries thrown on his plate and he goes back to sit down, away from Lila who still seems annoyed at him.

He didn’t mean to.

He wanted to help.

“Where’s dad?”

“Soccer with Cooper,” Lila answers, “they’ll be back soon, cause mum needs to take us to Max’s birthday party and then she’s going to get —“

Nate’s stomach curls in jealousy.

“I want to come,” he says, his mum wondering over.

“Oh honey, it’s Max’s birthday, it’s for Lila and Cooper.”

He stands, pushing out his chair and pushing away his breakfast.

“Why can’t I go with you?”

“Because you weren’t invited,” Lila says, standing up, her voice loud.

“That’s not fair, I can go too, I know Max,” he argues.

“But you weren’t invited,” Lila argues back.

Nate crosses his arms.

His mum seems to see it coming, he bangs his fist on the table and tries to step forward to Lila. He’s done nothing right since he woke up, it doesn’t matter, he feels like he’s in trouble anyway.

He reaches out to push Lila, only to be stopped.

“Nate, stop.”

The boundary is clear and he pulls himself back.

“I didn’t even want to go,” he says, sticking his tongue out to stop tears as he runs away.

He hates being the youngest, the one who always gets left out.

He heads back to his bedroom and sits on his bed, kicking his Lego breaking it apart.

No one comes after him, and he thinks his mum must have taken Lila’s side.

Anger burns in him as he looks around his room.

It’s not fair.

He did want to go.

Doesn’t Max like him too?

He slows his body down, just like his dad taught him, taking a deep breath and squats to put his Lego back together.

It’s not the same.

A small knock on the door reveals both his mum and dad and immediately he feels like he’s in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, looking to them both.

“Oh buddy; it’s okay, it sucks that you can’t come too, but this is just for Lila and Cooper,” his mum starts.

“Plus, you and I get to hang together!” his dad finishes.

He brightens at that.

He feels he never gets to spend time just the two of them.

He goes to his cupboard and drags out a marble run he’s been dying to put together, but no one had wanted to do it with him.

His dad nods and smiles.

“Come down and say goodbye to Mum and the others, and then we’ll build it, bigger than any we’ve built before.”

Nate grins.

“Deal,” he says, high fiving his dad as hard as he can.

He acts predictably and shakes his hand out and then offers his hands behind him and Nate high fives him again; following him down the stairs.

Saying goodbye to the others is easy and his dad drags out the marble run.

Nate watches him and copies putting pieces together, careful in testing his favourite blue marble to make sure all the pieces were aligned and working.

Gently, he add the last piece, climbing on the chair and then carefully let’s his marble fly.

“It works!!!” he yells in glee, then turns around waiting to be told to be quieter. It doesn’t come, instead his dad whoops with him and they hug as Nate looks at the box of marbles grinning in anticipation.

“Can we..”

His dad laughs.

“Let’s put them all down!”

Dragging the box over, he looks at them and finds the colours he likes.

Blue.

Red.

Green.

Yellow.

The colours standing out against the clear ones.

“We can take turns,” Nate says generously.

He puts the blue one down and then hands his dad a red one.

He loves the sounds of it rolling.

“Can you hear it, dad? Can you hear it?”

His dad shakes his head but signs that he can see it.

Nate frowns.

He drags his dads hand over to the run, and pushes it on. He does the same with his hand and let’s the green one fly.

“I can feel it,” his dad smiles.

Nate grins.

Pushing the yellow marble into his dad’s hand, he looks away for a second to get more.

He doesn’t hear the click clack of the marble go down and he turns back around.

Nate freezes.

His dad is frozen too.

Fear and pain on his face.

At least that’s what he thinks it is.

“Dad?” he tries, his stomach dropping.

“Daddy?”

It’s clear he can’t hear him.

“Dad?” he tries again.

He’s staring at the yellow marble.

Nate tries to take it away, but the result is his father pulling away, closing his hand over it and dropping to his knees.

“No…” he hears him say, his voice angry and quiet.

“It’s okay, Dad,” he whispers.

He’s not sure what to do.

The world feels dark and his dad isn’t feeling well.

He thinks it’s his fault.

“I’m just going to call Mum, okay?”

Leaving the room, he stares momentarily at his father, his eyes still on the yellow marble as he touches it.

It’s like he can’t hear him.

The phone is where it always is.

Nate presses the buttons, just like Aunty Nat taught him so long ago.

“Mum!?”

He hears her pick up, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Mum??”

“Nate?”

It’s Cooper.

He doesn’t want Cooper.

“Get mum,” he asks, moving back to find his father in exactly the same position.

“I heard you were making trouble this morning,” Cooper laughs at him.

“Please, get Mum,” he asks again, on the verge of tears.

There’s something in his voice that makes Cooper hand the phone over.

His mum’s voice pushes him over the edge.

“Nate? Are you okay?”

He feels the first tear fall.

“Dad’s not… he’s stuck,” he gets out, trying to take a deep breath and then sits next to his fathers inert body.

“Dad?”

There’s no response.

“Hang on.”

He hears her say something to his siblings then her attention seems to come back to him. Slowly he reaches out to touch his father.

A finger.

Then another.

His dad is crying and he can’t help.

“It’s okay, Dad, I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Nate? Are you okay?”

He puts his mum on speaker phone.

“Can you talk to Dad? He’s not talking. He’s crying..”

She’s silent.

“Am I on speakerphone?”

He nods.

“Nate?”

“Um, yes, he doesn’t have his ears in though.”

He watches his father carefully.

The marble still sitting in his palm.

“Daddy? Mum’s here. It’s okay, okay? I’m sorry,” he says, pushing the phone closer.

“Clint?”

Nate doesn’t listen to the start, he pushes the marble run away. It’s joy is gone.

He watches his father sit back at the sound of his mother’s voice.

He hears her talking.

He sits back down next to his father and draws on his hand, just like his dad usually does for him when he doesn’t feel well.

“Nate? Are you there sweetie?”

He nods.

His dad seems to be waking up, or coming back, it’s slow but there’s some signs of life.

“Nate?”

“Yeah, Mum, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” she’s worried, he can hear it.

“I’m okay, I think… I think it’s my fault.”

“Nate, this isn’t you’re fault okay? Do you remember that Thanksgiving when Aunty Nat was here and she seemed to freeze at dinner? And you noticed, and told us she wasn’t feeling well?”

He nods. He remembers.

“But Dad already knew, he was already helping her,” he argues quietly.

“I know, but you’re going to help Dad until we get there, okay? We are on the way home.”

Nate nods.

“Can you open the window? Get a breeze in. Grab your drink bottle and see if Dad wants any, okay?”

Nate gets up and follows his mum’s ideas.

His bottle is next to the bag of marbles and again, he feels guilty.

“It’s my fault,” he says, voice shaking. “I gave him a yellow one.”

He doesn’t know the significance, but Copper was right. He made trouble. He couldn’t help it. It’s all his fault.

“It’s not your fault,” he hears his dad say.

His voice is quite and he pats the spot next to him.

“Sit with me,” he croaks, his eyes unfocused and hands shaking.

Nate obeys.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he cries.

“Nate, Clint, we’re almost home, you’re going to hear the car.”

He does, the wheels on gravel and the heaviness in the air.

He feels the difference in the world.

Drawing on his father’s hand, he can’t look up at him. He doesn’t want to see his dad cry.

He also doesn’t want his dad to see him cry.

Nate hears the front door, the slow climb of his mum’s feet up the stairs.

The door opens slowly, but it’s not his mum through the door first.

“Natasha?”

His dad’s voice is still croaky, but there’s some movement in his body.

Nate rises with him, holding onto his hand.

Aunty Nat and his mum enter his room, and immediately he feels better.

There’s some else here to help.

They’re going to help his dad.

The three adults move to Nate’s bed, quiet voices speaking words that he doesn’t care to listen to. He doesn’t really want to stay either.

Leaving the room, he takes on last look at his mum holding his dad’s hand and Natasha holding his face in her hands.

It seems almost intrusive to be there.

Adult business.

Nate leaves.

Uncomfortableness in his guts as he feels unsure of what to do next.

He plods down the stairs to get some water, the snap changed everything. Everyone was different.

Everyone felt sad all the time.

His dad, his tattoos, his siblings, even his mum who was snapped with them.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t understand.

Nate fixes his laces, then heads outside to the swings.

Wishing that he’d been able to go Max’s birthday, he lets himself cry as he swings.

It’s moments before his mum comes out to him, and sits on the swing next to him.

“Hey buddy,” she opens.

“Scary seeing Dad like that, huh?”

Nate nods but doesn’t answer.

“He’s seen a lot of things that make him feel sad lately. It looks like you guys were building a pretty cool marble run.”

He takes a deep breath.

“We were going to take a photo to show Uncle Tony. Dad said he’d like it, you know, while he recovers.”

He thinks back.

“It’s my fault, I gave him the yellow marble,” he confesses with a hiccup.

His mum stands, and then stands in front of where he’s swinging, stopping him and crouching so she’s at his level.

“Sweetheart. That is not your fault. You are not responsible for your dad’s reactions okay?”

She doesn’t let him swing, even though he can’t look at her.

“Do you remember, we talked about somethings that make Aunty Nat sad? That there are some times that remind her of something she doesn’t want to think about? Dad has that too, sometimes he’s better able to hide it from you guys, but today, the yellow marble reminded him of something he wasn’t ready for.”

Nate finally looks at her.

“What?”

She looks to the ground.

“There was a mission to get us all back, do you remember Dad talking about it? He got to go to outer space, yeah?”

Nate nods.

He likes the story of the spaceship in outer space, with Rocket the Raccoon and the search for the stones to bring everyone back.

He digs his feet into the dirt.

“Was it something in outer space?”

His mum nods.

“There was something your Dad and Aunty Nat had to find, but to find it, they had to do something dangerous.”

Nate narrows his eyes.

“How dangerous?”

His mum swallows.

“Aunty Nat, technically… she died… so they could find it.”

His mum stands, and moves back to the swing.

“But mum, Aunt Nat is here, you went to pick her up?”

The swing in silence for a bit, and Nate watches the shadows of people in his room.

It seems his dad is more mobile, and Aunty Nat is helping.

She’s not dead.

“I know, but your dad didn’t know that when Tony brought everyone back, that she’d come back too. The yellow marble… it reminds him that she was gone for a bit.”

Nate nods.

He understands.

He does.

Sometimes he feels sad too, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He sees Natasha and his dad enter the kitchen and he hops off the swing.

“Can I go apologise to him?” he asks, “tell him I didn’t mean it?”

His mum stands and gives him a big bone crushing hug .

“You have nothing to apologise for, okay? This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

She kisses him on the top of his head and they walk hand in hand back to the house.

“Mum?” he sighs heavily.

“Do you think Dad will want to play with me again?”

His mum looks down and smiles.

“I know he will.”

Nate enters cautiously, moving slowly, and looks for his dad who’s now making tea in the kitchen.

“Nate,” he greets, “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He opens his arms and Nate hugs him readily.

He was so worried.

His dad, though still moving slowly, feels better, the world feels better. He lets himself get picked up and he revels in the constant touch and reconnection.

“Some chocolate milk?”

Nate nods.

“For me too?”

He grins at his aunt. Hopping down he hugs her too.

She feels different, somehow; than before the snap, and he doesn’t ask about the scaring on her fingers and how it travels up her arms.

It doesn’t feel polite.

Maybe his dad will tell him the story of Natasha’s scars and his own tattoos one day. Maybe he’ll request it as a bedtime story.

Instead he lets himself be dragged to the table, where Natasha seats herself next to him and they watch his dad make the hot chocolate.

“I’ve got to go pick up the others,” his mum calls and Nate nods and waves.

She kisses him, then Nat and then his Dad and leaves them all in the Kitchen.

“Dad tells me you made a cool marble run,” Natasha starts, and Nate shrugs. He wants to pull it apart and never play with it again.

“It’s so big and intricate,” his Dad calls, stirring drinks.

“Should we show Nat after this?”

Nate feels hesitant.

He’s proud of what they did.

But he doesn’t want to repeat what happened.

Leaving abruptly, he runs to to his room.

Yellow marbles.

He finds the bag and pulls them out, sorting them all into colours.

A knock at the door and his dad calls his name, maybe in worry as he tells him to hold on.

He does it quickly and systematically until he finds all the yellow and puts them into their own bag.

Maybe now they can play.

He opens the door to find both adults standing there - hot chocolate in hand, and he opens it wider to let them in.

“I put them away,” he tells them.

“You put what away?”

Natasha is always quicker.

“Yellow marbles?”

“You don’t have to worry about it when we play now, it won’t make you… sad.”

He gets another hug, this time sandwiched in between two bodies.

Nate grins. He likes doing right by people.

It’s how the others find them; sitting in the bedroom playing, rotating and putting marbles down the run, moving bits and making it bigger in some sections and smaller in others.

Til dinner they play and nothing happens.

He continually checks, making sure that his Dad or Aunty Nat don’t go anywhere.

They talk of nothing and lots of things.

His dad leaves to help his mum with dinner.

Lila joins them and then Cooper.

Nate feels the day pass and even though it started as a no good kind of day, he feels like it got better.

He tells Natasha, as he lays on his bed with her, watching Cooper change the marble run to be something else.

“I have days like that too,” she tells him.

“Not every day has to be all good.”

He nods.

She’s so warm and safe that he closes his eyes to the click clack of the marbles rolling.

.

[allycatcreatethings]

The Acceptance of Adulthood

Chapter 1: Old Memories 

What happened during the time with Finn with his perspective?

I missed the good old memories...

[First - Next - Chapter Index] [Word Count: 1327]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

Do you know what it’s like to grow up with hyper imagination? I knew that since I was young. It was a wonderful gift to tell stories without getting dispassionate about them. However, real life got in the way, and I had to leave that magical world behind for the night, only to return in the morning.

Some kids played with cars or dolls, but for me, it was Lego. Lego could be anything when you build and create, and you can get the best ideas out there to see them flourish and move. I played with my sets for a long while, creating a cute and delightful world without many rules. 

One time during the night, I sneaked into the basement to see what my father had constructed with his Lego sets downstairs. I felt in awe as I saw another world better than mine. There were flaws and order, but it made it much more fun! The different sets were various locations I could visit and wish to be in. I decided to dedicate myself to making the best story to enjoy and then one day tell it to the rest of the world. 

But my dad never let me play with his sets and told me to play with mine, but after playing the same thing repeatedly, I wanted more.  

I was able to create great storytelling by starting with a villain. Dad always told me not to touch the sets. But my Dad’s rules were too limiting, so he divided the world to never interact with each other again; imagine how the Lego figurines feel about this. 

[It was horrible.]

When I noticed the Lego figurines for the first time, I loved each and made some with some bricks alone, like Princess Unikitty. I wanted my old world to be where she ruled over and called it Cloud Cuckoo Land, but I knew if I wanted to improve the story, I had to eliminate my old world to create a new, better one. 

I feel like they are alive while playing with the Lego figurines. They are real people in their world, but they can’t interact or see me.

Each of their personalities was easy to make, and the narrative usually took off without me.

The Lego figurine drawn towards me the most was a construction worker. He already had a name on his printed leg piece, and his name was Emmet. There was nothing about Emmet that made him stand out from his other workers. I thought of the last name Brickowski because I thought it was clever, with the word brick in it.

But he was special to me. I put myself into the little guy, but even the worker became his own Lego person. I also did that with my Dad with Lord/President Business, but I have yet to tell him. He may not like it if I put him in the villain role.

One day during play, when Emmet fell onto the floor, I thought he was alive. I didn’t realize at first he was there; I think I stepped on him by mistake.

I think Emmet can see me. But he could move, but minimal. I guess my imagination was running wild. That was also when Dad finally saw my story and almost destroyed it. I can hear Emmet screaming for help or in pain, seeing his friend almost losing. I felt the same way; I was only a kid then. That’s what I imagined, at least. 

[But you are blind to seeing reality, Finn.]

I encountered a problem: What happens if a Lego person falls onto the floor? I can not place them back; you must cross a barrier to return them home like another world. I thought of many ways but came back to a portal. It was manageable; I had tested it and hoped it worked. That is what I believe in, like that cat poster on the wall.

To get my story back on track, I distracted my dad and saved Emmet with the lid of the Kragle. I gave him one last goodbye and placed him back into his world. I felt like I had lost a friend, and they moved away, but it has to be that way.

After that, something clicked in my Dad to change, and he allowed me to play with his sets. It felt like magic, like the special one did it. I was delighted that my story could continue until Dad told me my sister could play. Everything went into a nightmare pretty quickly as my sister threw my story off course; everything changed in my real life and reflected in the new narrative I created. Well, except Emmet. I changed, but he did not. Nothing in my power could change him, no matter how much I tried. 

Then, when my sister took his friends away, I wanted to get them back, and in the process, I lost Emmet. I had lost myself in the story.

I created the character Rex, and he felt it was me similarly, but I modified it to be more like the older me rather than a younger, naive version of my past. But I felt my anger come in, and I had enough of everything. I destroyed Bianca’s palace, but the consequence was Mom coming in and telling us to put Legos away forever, for real, this time.

I was heartbroken; my story was gone, and for the first time, I only saw my sister hurt without the narrative, and it hit me like Lego bricks crashing down. Somehow, I became a monster of my creation and didn’t know what to do. I comforted my sister, and she and I felt compelled to open the box again to rebuild the relationship. I heard the Lego figurines singing, but my sister couldn’t listen. I just thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. 

[But you listen anyway. They are just toys; why are you so attached to the plastics?]

I search for the Lego pieces for the heart and build them together again. I wanted to restart everything again with my sister and make an even better world for them!

But then, I realized I had to rescue Emmet from the true villain.

[You always need your main character. Hmm, who is the real villain?]

I picked up Wyldstyle and started to locate them. I felt horrible, but Rex had to go; I couldn’t be him anymore, so I let him disappear from the story. He was not dead; however, Vitruvius’ death was already hard to handle, and Emmet could even see his ghost occasionally. Killing a character removes the story they want to tell and the ideas they have with them.

Emmet became a monster he should not be, but I tried to let Emmet one last goodbye. Rex was an adult I never wanted to grow up as, and I had to get rid of him peacefully; that made sense in the story. 

[And yet you regret removing him from the story anyway.]

It’s been about five years since the last big adventure the Lego Figures had, but I still consider them for their story—my narrative. I had tried to grow up and learn to drive, cook, and be responsible like most adults. Why is it so hard to do sometimes?

[So tedious, so exhausting.]

I still hate the idea of adulthood. Why did you have to discard your childhood self before becoming an adult? 

[Because you are afraid of change, let go of the past.]

But things are about to change, I know it. Maybe for the better, but I hope not for the worse. After all, it’s just a story. I keep asking questions, and the answers are in play or games. I wish they were genuine and weren’t in my head. I just want my hero I can look up to, Emmet Brickowski.

[OUR HERO]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

[beauleifu]

hiii!! saw your rqs were open so i swooped right in >:) may i perhaps get a fluffy syntax x reader where the reader tries to drag syntax away from his work because theyre sleepy and want to cuddle him (bonus points if syntax is a bit of a tease cause djkfgdkfg im predictable) ...... i feel like once he gets going on his work he stays there until he either finishes it or passes out. overall hes Very stubborn so we gotta try and fix his sleep schedule with the power of ~love~ (and a lot of convincing). thank you for the opportunity!! the way you write for him is like instant serotonin 🙏💞

HEYYYYY GOOD TO HAVE YOU!

And ofc, ofc, we all love a little Syntax serotonin, yessir. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, sorry if this is late! I wanted it to be fun and mushy lmao

P.S. to everyone else, I think this is gonna be my last long oneshot for Syntax seeing as im writing a fanfic for him and dont want stuff for him to get old or repetetive, I have a LOT of requests regarding him so i'll either write short headcanons or not answer them until later <3

as for that yan!Syntax x reader, that's the exception lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Your idiot is back at it again, tinkering late at night at the work bench you realize you regret buying for him. Syntax was never one to value his own health, so it's up to you to, ah . . . remind him. Let's hope your plans don't go sideways.

CW: Tiny suggestive bit, language

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

When you wake up, it's still dark.

Weird . . . You think, not bothering to sit up. Dull gaze directed at the stone ceiling, you frown thoughtfully.

It's probably sometime around three in the morning.

That doesn't explain the strange empty feeling inside of you. Blowing out a sigh, you look around for the person you'd been spooning all night - only to find the other side of the bed vacant and cold.

Now you realize why you feel empty.

Syntax is gone.

Frustration starts to build up in your center as you slowly sit up and rub your eyes, yawning tiredly.

He's probably working in his signature cave. Just one of many in the vast expanses of the Spider Queen's lair. You've become familiar with the many routes and tunnels that stretch to the surface (the Spider Queen needed you at your top game, anyways). After coming to terms with serving the Queen, you've stayed by Syntax's side to help him with whatever he needs. You're not a tech nerd, you're not even a scientist. But the spider demons seem to enjoy your company, the food you cook, and the items you bring from the surface.

It's too chilly to leave your room without a blanket, so you drape the fluffiest one over your shoulders and slip out of bed, bare feet touching the smooth, stone cold floor.

Urgh. Living underground doesn't have many perks.

You find solace in working with Syntax and befriending the other spider demons. At least they allow you to travel to the surface in order to get your daily dose of vitamin D and other necessities. Besides that, you live down here.

Stretching and scratching your back, you walk aimlessly to the door and crack it open. It's dark outside.

It's always dark.

You've grown accustomed to the lack of sunlight, but you must have access to a nightlight or a lamp if you want to feel somewhat at home. The Spider Queen had allowed you to decorate your room (it's a cave, but you refuse to call it that), and you're grateful to her for that. It's not often she expresses any sort of kindness to begin with.

Eyes wide, you fumble for your phone and beam the light down the tunnel.

Just beyond, where the path curves sideways, you see a light.

Yup. Totally working.

"Damn spider demon," you mumble to yourself, in a slight daze as you leave your room and follow the source of light. "Getting no sleep. What am I supposed to do . . ."

When you finally reach the room, you pause.

Anxiety bubbles in your chest.

Step, step, step.

You've started pacing, you know it.

Slowly shuffling back in forth in front of the ominous door that leads to Syntax's quarters, hands twisting the blanket fabric. Under normal circumstances, you'd walk right in after knocking, with a smile on your face.

Instead, you're frowning, tapping your chin and thinking hard.

It's three in the fucking morning.

Why isn't he asleep!?

You don't understand why the Spider Queen won't send Syntax to rest and charge up if she values his tech skills so much. Despite it being so dim down here in the spider caves, no one ever seems to want to sleep. Unless they do so while you're aboveground, but the time you spend up there recently is very brief. You're ordered to return to the Spider Queen's lair in due time (and you're sure Huntsman keeping an eye on you the whole time, anyways. You don't try anything).

Adjusting the fluffy blanket draping over your shoulders, you fight a yawn and rub your eyes. Just get it over with.

You're tired.

He must be exhausted.

It's that which motivates you to quietly open the door, peeking inside before stepping through. As you expected, a tall figure stands at the work bench, back to you, tinkering away.

You puff out a small, exasperated sigh. "Syntax. . . ."

He doesn't turn, but you detect the smallest tensing of his shoulder muscles as he straightens a tad. You hear the small exhale.

"You should be asleep."

Oh, he wants to play this game? Puffing a sigh, you enter the room and shut the door quietly behind you, leaning against it. "Yeah, well, so should you. This isn't healthy and you know it. Why can't you take a break and come back to bed?"

"You know why. I'm almost finished with the prototype."

"The prototype?? You mean you're not even at the final stage?" Crossing the room and joining him at the workbench, you give him the stinky eye. "That's not almost finished."

Finally, Syntax locks eyes with you, frowning. "Did I say I was almost finished with the project as a whole?"

"No. . . ."

"Precisely. Now if you won't return to bed, then sit and be quiet."

You weigh your options, biting your lip.

At this rate, he'll just refuse your request just to spite you. There must be a smarter way to play your cards. Something that you know he has a weakness for. . . .

"How about a deal?" You murmur.

There.

You catch it, the slight lift of his eyebrows and the brief gleam in his green eyes. But he merely scoffs. "What did I just tell you?"

"Please. Please!" You say, fighting a smile. "I wanna cuddle!"

"I'm not in the mood for bargaining."

He's messing with you. You know he's interested in whatever you have to offer. Puffing a laugh, you slip your arms around his midsection and hug him from behind, closing your eyes. The sound of his breathing against your ear is soothing, even when it hitches at your actions. He's so warm. No wonder you woke up from his absence.

"Pleeeeeaase?" You whine softly, knowing you sound childish but not caring in the slightest. "I thought you liked deals."

A pause. You hold your breath.

Syntax lets out a sigh, a smile in his voice. "What did you have in mind?"

Oh.

"I, uh . . . haven't planned it out that far. I was expecting you to shoo me back to bed," you admit sheepishly, glad you can hide your face in his coat so you can avoid meeting his gaze, which is no doubt amused and mocking.

The spider demon hums, tinkering away. "That was on my itinerary, but you have piqued my interest. . . ."

"Okay, how about I do whatever you want for a bit, and in return you come to bed and cuddle with me," you offer, releasing him. Syntax spins on heel and leans on the workbench.

"'Whatever I want'?" He repeats mischievously.

You consider. "Within reason."

"Understandable. All right," Syntax says, cocking his head. "I have an idea."

A question builds in your throat, for he'd been so very explanatory, but Syntax simply crosses you to the far side of the desk and faces you once more. Hands in his pockets, he nods to the desk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. You frown deeply.

"Sit here."

Now you grimace, face scrunched as you try and figure out his ulterior motives. "Uh-huh. What else? Just sit?"

If this is it, getting him to bed will be shockingly simple.

Of course, you miss the look in his gaze. Smiling casually, he hums; "Yes. That's all." And then his voice takes on a stern dip. "However. You are to sit quietly and obediently until I instruct otherwise. If you can do that, I see no problem in fulfilling your end of the bargain."

There it is, the catch you were waiting for.

Accepting your face, you nod wearily and saunter over to the desk. You make sure the blanket is secure before hopping up onto the smooth, wooden surface.

Syntax steps back, making sure you look comfy. "Good. Now sit there for a bit."

"You're not just doing this to make me shut up, are you?" You accuse as he walks back to the workbench. Shifting to avoid leaning back and bumping the discarded tech gear at your back, you eye him sternly. "You really will come back to bed?"

He merely glances at you.

Oh.

Shit.

You make a quick movement of zipping your mouth closed. Damnit, you still have no idea if you're doing this for nothing.

Syntax cracks a satisfied smile, returning to his work.

His demeanor gives away nothing. Whipping out your phone, you glance at the time. 3:30. Through narrowed eyes, you determine how long he'll make you sit here. No longer than half an hour, if he values your sleep schedule. Somewhat reassured, you settle into the blanket and watch Syntax resume tinkering around. The prototype looks like some kind of mini spider-bot, with sharp appendages and large, x-raying green eyes.

You long to ask what purpose his creation serves. Perhaps it's some kind of spying device, to scuttle around the city undercover of night in search of the Monkie Kid. Then again, isn't Syntax's current task something different? You thought the former was Huntsman's job.

A yawn escapes you without warning, and you clap a hand over your mouth in shock.

Syntax spares you a brief glance. "Giving up?"

He's asking if you're tired enough to abandon the deal and leave him here (as he probably wants). To challenge you in that way sparks a flame that you don't bother to snuff out.

Glaring determinedly, you shake your head. Not in a million years.

The spider demon's face drops in disappointment, and he turns back to his work without another word.

You're inclined to pass the time on your phone, lazily scrolling through entertainment simply thrown at your feet, as they swing back and forth above the cave floor. But as time ticks on, you begin to think this is all quite hopeless.

You struggle against another yawn.

A few more minutes.

It'll be worth it.

Syntax suddenly straightens, having been rearranging the insides of the mini spider-bot for the past five minutes. Blowing out an exhale, he glances at you - or rather, behind you.

His eyes then trail to your face. A slow, smug smile spreads across his features.

Setting the screwdriver aside, he walks over to the desk.

You realize he needs something from behind you, something lost among the many miscellaneous tech items resting against the wall. However, from the strange gleam in his eyes, you doubt that's all he needs, and he hasn't asked you to move yet. So you plant your hands on the table in preparation to scooch over and make room for him.

To your surprise, Syntax stops your motions by politely - yet firmly - placing one hand on your knee.

You swallow. Uh oh.

Syntax smiles kindly at you. "That's not necessary."

"But I-"

"Perhaps you're forgetting your instructions? Move, and the deal is off," Syntax continues, effectively shutting you up. With a gentle squeeze to your knee, he winks. "So stay."

That kind smile was a ruse, a dirty trick that had momentarily lowered your guard.

Syntax finds it incredibly easy to simply lean right over you to retrieve whatever he needed from the table. He's taller than you, his height even more prominent when you're sitting down. You have to tilt your chin upward so it just barely brushes his shoulder, heart beat suddenly wild.

It stops.

It skips beats.

It has no fucking clue how to react.

"U-Um-"

"Just a moment," Syntax says, which is so informative. You can practically feel his smirk, can taste the amusement reeking off of him.

Also his perfume. Not to mention his natural scent.

Smells good. Heat blossoms in your cheeks, your mouth quite dry as you attempt to swallow. The phone in your hands slips from your laxed grip into Syntax's palm, and you don't even try to object.

The scientist fusses with something behind you for a good ten seconds, giving you plenty of time to work up quite a flustered storm in both your head and your face. In the end, when he leans back, you're shivering despite the blanket, cheeks on fire.

The spider demon smirks.

Job well done, his eyes seem to say, green and mocking.

"Enjoying your visit thus far?" He says musingly, eyebrows raised. When you give no answer, he scoffs and brushes his bangs to one side. "You have permission to speak, I suppose. For now."

You simply glare, no longer wanting to cuddle anymore.

No.

You want to attack, like the little gremlin you are. Revenge tastes sweet, yessir.

"Not answering," you huff, hoping for a drink.

Which is certainly answer enough. Syntax's drops and he shrugs as if to say, you're loss. He's still a close distance from you, looking down at your blanket-swaddled frame. "You'd rather go back to bed and give up this . . . whatever this is?"

When he'd gestured to you, your eyes fall to his hands, unwilling to keep eye contact.

"I just . . ."

Angry for being at such a loss for words, you glare at the floor.

Syntax's expression softens.

He seems to realize what's up. With a faint sigh of fond exasperation, he rests his hands on either side of you, on the desk, and lowers himself to your eye level.

"Why did you really come down here. To me," Syntax murmurs, eyes half lidded.

You stiffen. "Well . . . I . . ."

He's smiling now, fingers ghosting along your arm. "Did you miss me that much?"

"More like worried you'd kill yourself working too hard," you grumble.

"Hmm. I'm touched," Syntax comments, gently taking your hand in his. Raising it to his lips, he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, eyes trained on you. This time, you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

Say it.

It's certainly a last ditch effort, an idea you're not exactly proud of.

However, as we all say, for the greater good.

"It . . . it just hurts to see you neglect your own health," you whisper, as though your confession is something forbidden.

Your words fill Syntax's ears.

He blinks, lips parting in surprise. You catch the guilt flash across his face.

At that moment, you seize your chance.

Syntax didn't know.

He had no clue that you were also putting on an act to dissuade him from the real deal (although your confession still have a ring of truth to them).

Karma is a bitch.

Hauling the blanket with you, you launch yourself at Syntax and wrap yourself around him, legs hooking around his waist. The blanket had fallen in such a way that it now covers both of your heads, giving way to a new kind of darkness that you quite like.

He gasps, hands instinctively flying down to support you.

With eyes of steel, you grab his face.

"Sleep," you beg, expression set aglow by the soft shine of Syntax's green eyes. Cracking a fond smile, you kiss his nose. "Cuddle with me."

You kiss his forehead. "I love you and I want you to be healthy."

Then, you pinch his cheek. "Don't make me use force."

Syntax is effectively breathless, words simply abandoning him when he needs them most. Your actions had startled him for sure, and thankfully he'd caught you or you'd be on your ass right now, drowning in shame. For now, you remain thankful and patient in his arms, thumb absently brushing his cheek.

Finally, Syntax sighs in resignation. "I knew I'd fail to achieve anything with your constant nagging."

"Is that a yes?"

A yawn - you knew he was tired. "I suppose it was."

Relief pours through you, and you remove the blanket from over both your heads. It falls back around your shoulders like a fluffy cape.

"Then let's be off," you say, yawning ass well.

He obeys, perhaps sad to leave his project yet his body is relaxed. Carrying you still, he leaves the cave and walks down the tunnel. You hug him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply.

"I can't believe you did this on a daily basis before we met."

Syntax clears his throat. "With good reason."

"Give me one good reason, then."

Silence.

He's tired. It brings a smile to your face, because so are you, and it would suck to have forced him to do something he isn't ready for.

Now you can look forward to sleeping with peace of mind.

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

Happy New Year, Here's Some Fanfic...

Here's to another successful rotation around the sun! In honor of all of us getting through some pretty awful crap, of experiencing some wild and entertaining moments, and of getting to feel even a few minutes of immeasurable joy this past year, I'm posting my 'anthology' of one-shots and stories for y'all.

I don't have a lot to give you. But I do have old words and fresh ideas. So for all of you who know me, who have stuck with my stories, or simply liked some as you went along, I hope every good thing happens to you this year.

I hope your coffee or tea or energy drink always tastes perfect, and that when you step out your door, you always see a reason to smile. I hope you never have to step on a lego while barefoot, that you always find a spoon when you need one, and that your dog / cat / raccoon / possum / unicorn continues to do things you find indescribably adorable. I hope you know that in this vast universe of loneliness and exhaustion and 'something's not quite right,' you've got me. You've got that guy over there. You've got all of us.

We don't have it all together. No one does. We're all making it up as we go along. But that doesn't mean we have to do it alone.

It's okay to feel small and lost. It's okay to not have a resolution. It's okay that all you did was get up this morning. All these wishes I'm sending out into the ether belong to you, too.

So, as old and worn out as the saying goes, Happy New Year.

This is also a reminder that this rather unpopular tumblr blog is a safe space. For fanfic readers and writers. For artists. For LGBTQ+. For those who see beauty in all this dark around us. For disabled. For autistic. For people who like black coffee. For all of us.

And if you're just finding me now, come on in. Do you like dogs? I have three. Do you like shipping ships? Well, take a seat and tell me all about yours. Do you just want to be quiet for a bit? No problem, I've got extra comfort items just for that occasion. You're family now.

Welcome home.

All my love,

QuietDarkness P.S. Do you have one-shots you'd like me to write? A story idea you'd like to collab on? I know I'm notorious for writing for very specific ships and fandoms, but believe me, I would love to write for more. Or I'll keep writing for the ships/fandoms I've already done. Just let me know! I'd love to hear from you. Heck, I'd love to hear from you no matter what.

Complete:

The Walking Dead (Daryl Dixon/OFC):

The Flash - Harrisco (Cisco Ramon/Earth-2Harrison 'Harry' Wells):

Work In Progress:

The Flash - Harrisco (Cisco Ramon/Earth-2 Harrison 'Harry' Wells) Sequel to 'Borrowed Forgiveness':

The Flash - Harrisco (Cisco Ramon/Earth-2 Harrison 'Harry' Wells) One-Shots:

Supernatural - Destiel (Dean Winchester/Castiel) One-Shots:

Stargate: Atlantis - McShep (Rodney McKay/John Sheppard) One-Shots:

Works On Hiatus:

The Walking Dead (Daryl Dixon/OFC):

Stargate: Atlantis - McShep (Rodney McKay/John Sheppard):

The Flash - Harrisco (Cisco Ramon/Earth-2 Harrison 'Harry' Wells):

[chroniclesofabooknerd]

Really long post below:

07.20.24→ original entry date.

LONG RANT BELOW: I've been asked by a few people that are actually genuine if I felt comfortable going into detail about what I have been dealing with lately. Note, this isn't something that just started happening within the last few weeks. NO. THIS.. has been going on off and on for the last several months. But, whichever smarty pants mcgee has been doing it, finally got caught in the midst of doing it and I was prompted to change security settings. It was literally a battle of typing speed. I came really..really close to losing everything. I know there's alot of yall that's out there that don't see the enjoyment in blogging or reading. There's those that don't find enjoyment in researching and journaling and that's fine, you can just skip ahead to the next post if this doesn't interest you. OR, you can read it and you may find something within my very long post that you agree with. I did forget to include that whoever it was also made a hacking attempt on not just my FB Blog but my personal profile on there too. Thankfully, nothing got affected because I have all that set up differently for security. I will be cross-posting this.

So this will be shared on :

https://rusticbooktravels.home.blog/ -> which is my main blog site

my IG accounts

Blogger ↓↓↓

http://daisywitchchronicles.blogspot.com

I'm also going to put the link below for my linktree. That way you can go to it and be redirected and see the blogs all in one spot and can choose which one you want to visit..

My linktree ↓↓↓

https://linktr.ee/daisyjeanbloggz

Original Entry. 07.16.24 ( originally posted on IG because I was wanting to get blogging done for my bookstas and people just got all wackadoodle on me!!)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Go0d mernin all you day-walkers and hopefully all my fellow night-walkers are doing okay :) && Howdy chickadees and chickaroos.

[^^^Part of my post from earlier this morning]

Soo...I don't really use all that many sayings when I post or at least none that are repetitive and catchy in my opinion. So, please, for the love of all things coffee fueled and paranormal,tell me why am I getting hate mail because I started using "chickadees & chickaroos” and it's apparently rude and inconsiderate to call people day-walkers or night-walkers. It's not like I'm referencing a vampire movie or zombie movie here. ( But if I was, in regards to a vampire movie it would be Blade. If it was in regards to Zombies, it's not a movie but The Walking Dead calls Zombies, Walkers.) BUT...It was supposed to be something funny damn,y'all really need to get a life!

The beginning part of this I literally just posted after work this morning with a damn cup of coffee. I was gonna spend the morning blogging... I was wanting to get caught up on some things, but for some reason all the stupid fecking algorithm wants to do is send people who have pizz in their Wheaties & sH!T in their cornflakes to harass me. I'm beyond sick of this. Does anyone else have issues when they try to use catchy phrases? Why the hell do I always attract some of the most mush brained, cornbread soggy in the middle, watermelon ain't ripe, momma done dropped them on the head twice and daddy done kicked them across a football field azz people!!!!!????

I literally just started using these phrases. As in within the last 3-4 days.. maybe almost a week. Anyways, I hope you spill your coffee on white pants, I hope you step on a Lego, I hope you bang your little toe on every piece of furniture that exists in your house and bang your elbow. Oh and most importantly, I hope when you go to leave your house or job, the door handle snags on your shirt or pants and then the seat belt catches and refuses to release!!!

Have the day you deserve.

=========================

Journal entry 07.20.24

_______________________

Howdy chickadees and chickaroos. As you see in this earlier post I've been dealing with a lot. Below I'm going to be adding more to what I've been dealing with to give insight on just what type of scum I've been dealing with.

Originally posted on threads:

Howdy my chickadees & chickaroos! Today I'm sharing the latest bull$hyte that I've been dealing with as a blogger & journalist. So, I've been desperately trying to engage and try to accomplish certain personal goals for myself as far as my writing and blogging. I don't do this to be famous on threads or IG. I do it because I enjoy it. However, within the last few months I must have really pizzed in somebodies Wheaties because I've dealt with the following : (1/idk how many this will be)

2. I've dealt with bullying and harassment. Backlash for voicing my own damn opinion and sharing MY. OWN. RESEARCH AND JOURNAL ENTRIES. Authors attempting to come after me because they didn't agree with the rating I gave them. I'm sorry but I'm not giving your very poorly edited dumpster fire a 5 star rating when it's barely a 1.

2(cont.) Now I get it, indie authors have it rough. I know writing and publishing is hard. I'm a writer myself so I get it. However, it doesn't excuse the ones that send the work out into the world like "oh not my problem anymore" && they never did any editing or spell check the entire time. & This isn't bashing indie authors or traditionally published authors. This is just me venting. Please don't get your panties in a wad.

3. Hackers. Yes you read that right. Hackers. I really don't know why someone gets enjoyment out of attempting to ruin someone's work. But I've had people hack my email. They have tried to hack my websites where I blog and most recently they've attempted to hack IG. I really don't understand why. If youre that pizzed off at me just UNFOLLOW ME OR BLOCK ME! It would literally take what a minute or 2 of your time?

3(cont.) Also, please stop it whoever you are. My main blog means the world to me because I created it not long after I lost my best friend. (My solid white husky passed unexpected & reading to him was my favorite thing so I started blogging about books and it was my way to still connect in a way.. doesn't have to make sense to y'all but it does to me)

4. Well anyhow, that's a chunk of what I've been dealing with. I just don't understand what makes people feel they have the right to screw with others like that. Especially someone like me. I literally do nothing but keep to myself, work constantly and attempt to make a name for myself with my blogging and writing.

Side note: I attempted to make a new IG and turn it into a creator page but that didn't work out so, if you were following an account with the name (witchblogcavern) that was me but things happened and I could not keep that account.

Now, I want to continue with my very long disgruntled rant to say. That these hackers. These, low down, no good ©ûM guzzlers have still been attempting to hack just about everything that I own when it comes to blogging and journaling. A few days ago, someone tried to put the final nail in the coffin in regards to me blogging. They went after my main blogging site. The one that is mentioned up above that I have had for years. This led to me getting the “white page of death or white screen of death” I ALMOST LOST 6 YEARS worth of content. 6. FUGGIN. YEARS. They somehow managed to hack an email that I've been using for quite some time that I had linked to the main blog. It took hours… and I mean HOURS to fully recover my blog. I really don't know what is wrong with people. I don't understand what I ever did to anyone except to give my honest and unbiased viewpoint on whatever it is that I am working on. Ive been nice about it, I've tried going through and blocking potential culprits. But I cannot stress this enough.. If I am actually able to figure out which person or persons it is that is tampering with all of my work. I'm going to press charges. I have been communicating with the support team for my blog and they have escalated it to the IT department. It’s theft and impersonation. I don't know how far that will get me but I am beyond sick of this. I've worked way, way too damn hard trying to make a name for myself with my blogging just for some stupid azz m.o.f.o to try and ruin it and claim it for themselves… I don't care if it's a fellow blogger, or writer or author that is doing this. You sir, ma’am or whatever entity you desire to be, are a downright PIECE OF SHIT. And, I hope that one day, Karma screws you hard, no lube with a soldering iron.

Those of you that have been following me for a while..years maybe, you know that generally if I decide to vent or rant it's not this angry. But I am so sick of the bullying and harassment that I'm receiving when I know for a flipping fact, I haven't done anything at all. It's not like I'm on here posting hateful content or attacking someone for their personal beliefs. I don't post anything that goes against any type of political views or things that are considered controversial. I keep to myself, in my own little blogging world. But somehow, somewhere, these vile idiotic people (or it might just be one person who just absolutely hates me to the core and hates the poop that comes out my rear) have gone out their way to try and make my life a living hell. I DON'T NEED HELP WITH THAT!! Its way past that point! So from here on out, if I don't seem as nice as I used to be, my replies are short or I seem distant,this is why. I'm tired of people using what I've worked so hard on, for their personal gain. And, if after reading all this you decide that you no longer want to follow me, be friends or even see my content anymore, that's fine. It's totally up to you if you make that decision, either way, I hope you have a good weekend. Take care and as always, stay safe out there y'all.

[ynparker]

Waiting for Spiderman - (Part 3) Peter Parker x (Y/N)

Peter Parker x fem!stark!avenger!reader

Summary: Peter Parker is new to the Avengers, but that doesn't stop him from falling for Tony Stark's daughter.

Warnings: Flash being an absolute jerk

A/N: Hey guys! This fanfic is inspired by the song 'Waiting for Superman' by Daughtry (I changed it to Spiderman for obvious reasons). Also, Pietro never died. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy ;)

(Y/N)'s eyes shot past Peter, surprised as she heard his name being called. A boy ans girl their age were hurrying towards him. Peter was smiling and waving at them.

"Hey," the boy said as he caught up with them. "You forgot to text me last night, I thought we were going to build my new Lego death star?"

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows and a smile crossed her face. The girl laughed and patted Peter on the shoulder. "You're busted, Parker," she said. "Looks like she just found out how much of a nerd you are."

Before Peter could stammer out an answer, the girl spoke again. "I'm MJ by the way," she introduced herself. "And that's Ned. For the record, I'm not even sure why I'm friends with these dorks.

Peter looked scandalized, but (Y/N) was grinning. She was beginning to like his friends more and more. "Nice to meet you guys," she smiled at them. "I'm (Y/N), (Y/N) Stark."

Ned's eyes widened slowly. "Whoah," he gasped. "You're actually Tony Stark's daughter?"

"That's me," she said, giving a confident shrug. She always played it cool when people mentioned her dad. Provided they didn't overdo it, of course.

"And you're hanging out with us?" Ned asked. The other three laughed at this. "Well, Peter's Spiderman and he hangs out with you," she countered reasonably. In a trice, Peter had his hand over her mouth. "Ssh!!" he hissed, looking around. "Someone might hear you! We're only like a block away from Midtown!"

"Wow," MJ remarked in an unimpressed voice. "You are really into her." Immediately, Peter pulled away and (Y/N) felt her face growing bright red.

Thankfully, Ned changed the subject. "So, (Y/N), did you transfer to Midtown or do you go to another school?"

"No, my dad transferred me two weeks ago," she replied. Ned frowned. "Weird, I'm surprised Flash hasn't asked you out by now," he said. "I try to keep a low profile," the girl replied. "And who is Flash?"

"The scum of Midtown, the ant in our sock, the mosquito bite under our toe, you get the idea," MJ explained. "He's really rich, but he's also a total bully," Ned informed her. "Yeah, he's been bullying especially me for years," Peter said. "There's a lot of kids that hang out with him, though," he added, worry creeping into his voice as if being scared (Y/N) would hang out with him too.

(Y/N) put a comforting arm around him. "For what it's worth, he sounds like an idiotic jerk," she told him. Peter smiled. "Thanks, (Y/N)," he said, and then looked ahead. They had reached Midtown High, the large building towering over the swarm of students entering the school or hanging out and talking.

The four walked up to the steps of the school. Right as they were about to enter, something wet hit the small of (Y/N)'s back.

"What the-" she turned around in outrage, just in time to see a smug smile on the face of a boy who had just ridden a car into a huge puddle right behind her.

"Good morning, Pen!s Parker!" the boy called out gleefully. "Hope you don't mind, you looked a little tired so I decided to wake you up."

"That is Flash," MJ muttered under her breath to you. "Pen!s Parker?" (Y/N) muttered back. "It is taking everything in me not to blast him into a wall right now."

"Come on, Peter, he's not worth it," Ned said, pulling Peter into the building. Peter looked positively mortified at (Y/N) having to see him get bullied by Flash like that, but when he looked at her, she was busy peeling off her wet coat.

"I'm sorry about that," he told her, eyeing it. "Oh, it's all good" she smiled, waving it aside. "Watch this." She stepped into an empty doorway and held out her coat. The others watched her curiously. (Y/N) waved her hand over the coat, smiling as she saw the wet spot grow smaller and smaller until the fabric was dry.

"I could do it with my hands glowing but that could be a little conspicuous in a crowded corridor," the girl said nonchalantly as the three others looked at her, transfixed.

Peter's eyes were wide as he hurriedly looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed that. "How did you do that? That was so cool!" he exclaimed, the excitement in his face making (Y/N) laugh. "I'm serious!" the boy insisted. "You have the coolest power out of like all of the Avengers!"

"Better not let my dad hear you say that," (Y/N) laughed and turned him around so he was standing with his back to her.

He became suddenly aware of the fact that Flash's little stunt had made the back of his jacket wet as well, and smiled as he felt it dry slowly. He looked at (Y/N) with admiration as she dried off MJ and Ned as well.

"Miss Stark?"

A voice behind them made all four whip around as they realized the new guidance counselor, Mrs. Dankworth, standing behind them. (Y/N) immediately brushed the hair out of her face and gave a winning smile. It reminded Peter very much of Mr. Stark's expression when he was winning someone over.

"Mrs. Dankworth, good morning!" (Y/N) smiled. "Is everything ok?" The lady smoothed her cardigan and eyed the girl over her horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, I just wanted to let you know you've been transferred to second period P.E. on Wednesdays and Fridays, there's been a slight mix-up in the schedules so we've been changing them for some of the students."

Peter and Ned exchanged excited glances. This would mean (Y/N) would be taking P.E. with them, meaning they would have one class with her.

"That's fine," (Y/N) was saying. "Thank you so much for letting me know, Mrs. Dankworth." The woman gave a small smile. When (Y/N) turned, MJ was looking at her with an impressed look in her eye.

"Oh, you're good," she said. (Y/N) laughed. "I get the flattery from my father."

"Yeah, Mr. Stark does know how to please a crowd," Peter agreed. "Are you calling me a crowd pleaser, Parker?" (Y/N) asked, quirking her brow at him. Peter immediately went red. "N-no, no, what I meant was..."

"Relax, I was just messing with you," (Y/N) said, holding her hand up. "I have to go or I'll be late for first period science."

"I have first period science too," MJ said. "I'll walk with you." (Y/N) smiled and nodded, waving goodbye to the other two.

"Dude," Ned said when the girls were well out of earshot. "You like her." Peter looked at his best friend, hoping he looked convincing. "What? No, no, she's just a friend."

"Are you listening to yourself? You're literally living with (Y/N) Stark, who is cute, hot and totally into you, and you're telling me she's just a friend?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I like her as a friend," he insisted. Ned scoffed. "And Flash is my new best friend."

"Shut up."

---

(Y/N) made her way to the gym with mixed feelings. She and MJ had spent the whole lesson either pretending to pay attention or being resigned to pay attention when they were caught talking. Somehow, MJ seemed convinced that (Y/N) was crazy about Peter, despite the fact that the two had only met yesterday.

She pushed the door to the girl's changing rooms open, flinching when she heard a high-pitched laugh echo in her ears. "I cannot believe you would pass out on an opportunity to marry Thor!"

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as she realized they were talking about her uncle. "Nah," another girl's voice replied. 'I'd prefer a one night stand with him. I mean, have you seen the muscles on that guy?" (Y/N) clapped a hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter, making a mental note to ask Thor what he thought of girls wanting to hook up with him.

"Ok, and what about... Iron Man?"

Oh, this should be good.

"Iron Man? I'd probably want to marry him."

"Yeah, same. I feel like he's the kind of guy who would protect you no matter what."

Well, they got that right.

"And he's hot enough, isn't he?"

The giggle was out of (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop it. She could practically hear the girls look up. "Hello?" one of them called. "Is anyone there?"

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and stepped out from behind the lockers. A blonde and a brunette were sitting together on the benches and were looking at her with identical puzzled looks.

"Were you listening to us?" the blonde asked. "Not intentionally," (Y/N) replied, hoping she didn't sound too awkward. "So what do you think?" the brunette. "Kiss marry kill - Thor, Iron Man, and Spiderman."

(Y/N) gave a small smile. "I don't think I'd do any of those things with Iron Man. But... I might kiss Spiderman if circumstances allowed." The blonde shook her head. "Fine, but I stand by my choice. Thor is the hottest Avenger. I'm Betty, by the way," she added. "This is my friend Liz."

"Hi," (Y/N) said with a classic Stark smile. "Ok, I'm going to change."

"Meet us out front, ok?" Liz smiled. With that, the two left, leaving (Y/N) to finally let go of her suppressed laughter.

When the girl finally exited the changing rooms, she was pleased to see both Peter and Ned sitting on the bleachers. She hurried to meet them, an inviting smile gracing her face.

"Oh-h, boy," Peter whispered as he saw her arrive. "This is your chance!" Ned hissed. "Tell her you have a crush on her!"

"I'm not going to tell her I have a crush on her-"

"So it's true?" Ned gasped, his eyes widening. "You do have a crush on her!"

"Ned, seriously, shut u- hey, (Y/N)!" he broke off suddenly as he saw the girl approaching them. "Hey, guys. So, I just met these girls who were playing kiss marry kill with Thor, my dad, of all people, and you, Peter. Well, Spiderman, really, but you know."

Ned smirked. "Oh, really? That's - that's an interesting question, (Y/N). So, who would you kiss? Spiderman or Thor?" (Y/N) went red, but before she had a chance to answer, someone behind her wolf-whistled.

She turned, her eyes narrowed, not surprised at all by who she saw. Flash Thompson with the stupidest smirk on his smug face. "So, you're the new girl?"

"If you can call someone who's been here for two weeks new," (Y/N) replied, a calculating look on her face as she stood to face the boy. She caught the slight confused frown on Flash's face. She smirked. He wasn't used to girls saying things like that to him. He was making himself way too obvious.

"What's your name, beautiful?" Flash asked, the smug look returning to his face. Okay. "Number one, do not call me beautiful, even though I'd like to think I am, thank you very much. Number two, you'll know my name soon enough. And number three, I would like you to apologize to me and my friends for that stunt you pulled this morning."

Nobody had been expecting that. Those nearby who had heard what the girl had said were listening, open-mouthed. Flash's jaw had dropped.

"Um..." he said, seemingly unable to form a single thought. Not that he seemed capable of doing so on a regular basis.

At that point, there came a shout. "Stark! You got the schedule change?" She looked past Flash's paling face to Coach Wilson, who was just entering the gym. "Yes, thank you, Coach Wilson!" she called, making sure everyone could hear her. She looked at Flash again and said, "Yeah, I'm (Y/N) Stark. Tony Stark's daughter and heir of Stark Industries. Glad to make your acquaintance."

She was about to turn away, when Flash grabbed her arm. "So what happened to your mom, (Y/N) Stark?" he asked.

The girl felt her face pale.

(Ahh Part 4 is finally out now!

[tojikai]

Are you a wizard, Kai? Because I have about 6 weeks worth of asks screaming about my hatred for Gojo and with a few fucking paragraphs, I'm like "oh no I feel bad for him"...what is this dark magic you possess?! I mean, I still think he's scum but I feel bad for him. But I'm also still wondering why the fuck Gojo did it in the first place, the dumb paintbrush looking stick figure?!

But I've had some time to digest this chapter and....well let's just dive in, shall we?

First off, ok he did break up with Rie face to face and told her everything which is good. (My last ask I said I didn't believe him, but he actually did it) However, Rie, seriously go fuck yourself. You haven't stopped crying since like chapter one and I'm sick of it. It was 2 months; you and Gojo broke up a 5 year, very serious relationship, so fuck off with the waterworks. You got what you deserved and maybe now you'll use your brain when getting into a relationship. Please go away to the land of forgotten uwu girls and never disgrace us with your presence again. (please tell me she's gone for good)🙏🙏🙏

Second, (not to gloss over the adorableness that is Sugaruyn) but the scream I let out when the Dilf (who is not a dad, but he's sure as hell a daddy) himself, Nanami, made an appearance. Omg I'm pretty sure I woke up my neighbors. Eh, I'll buy them donuts in the morning then tell them to read the series so they'll be fine. 🤷

(Also, fuck y/n's mom. You're a terrible mother and I hope your company goes bankrupt, your pillows are always warm, and you somehow always step on a Lego barefoot)

Third, *insert evil laugh here* how does it fucking feel Gojo to see y/n move on without you? My, my, my, how the turntables. Just take several seats and watch your life fall apart buddy boy, because you sure as shit didn't give a fuck about y/n's feelings when you were living your high school dream. It was setting up to be an amazing moment between y/n and Sugaru, but I'm starting to think there's nothing there but friendship. Just very amazing, deep friendship and honestly, that's ok. Platonic soulmates are real and they're wonderful.

And finally, I honestly was thinking Rie was pregnant and I was waiting for that shoe to drop because that would have been the absolute final nail in the coffin that is y/n and Gojo's relationship (she still could be, we've got 2 more chapters after this) but you went and pulled a Sixth Sense level twist with that ending. I didn't see that coming until y/n mentioned being tired and nauseous. If she really is pregnant, this will define everything. My heart is racing and I'm pacing the floor, frantically willing a happy ending, whatever that may be. As long as y/n is happy.

But seriously, are you a wizard, Kai?! Much love to you again! Hope you have an amazing weekend and week!! Hugs, kisses, flowers, and coffee!!

PLSSSS i love that emotional twirling gif LMAOO omg yeahhh about rie's tears, i actually hate it when the person who messed up is the one who cries. i definitely get why it pisses u guys off. but it always happens irl. i think its like a way for them to get some sympathy, to look pitful bc they know it in themselves that they messed up, & it's really annoying!!!!!. and NANAMI, ah i wanted to write more about him😭next chapter there'll be more of him !! he's friends with yn~ i wish im your neighbor tho. i love donuts😭hksdjk. as for yn's mom. she can get worse, really :(( and satoru might have to see more suguyn next chapter :')) anywayyy thank youu so much for this and for the support <33 please have an amazing weekend as well and take careee, mwaah~

[ronnie-azumane]

Haikyuu guys as stuff my dad did

This idea has been in my brain for a while, so I'm writing it out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

CW: idn, its pretty wholesome

Daichi answers your frantic phone call home expressing that you forgot your backpack and laptop for college when you went home over the weekend. Expressing that all of your notes are in the backpack, he decides to wake-up extra early Monday morning and make the 2 1/2 hour drive to your university, then drive all the way back to your hometown to go to work.

Sugawara came up with the best hiding spot for you while playing hide and seek at your 7th birthday party. He squeezed you in-between the back of the couch and the back couch cushions. Then, he sat in front of it to conceal the awkward lump it made in the couch. It took the others 30 minutes before giving up and telling you to come out.

Asahi asks you to style his hair for a zoom meeting he has later that day. After some deliberation, you both decide to do a mohawk style. He braces himself as you run off to get the brush, hairspray, hair gel, and hairdryer.

Nishinoya still wears the Annoying Orange shirt you got him when you were in 3rd grade. It's faded and has a giant picture of Annoying Orange on it, which faded from popularity in 2010, but he still wears it. In public.

Tanaka makes the dumbest jokes while in the audience of your colorguard/dance competitions. For example, he asked your mom if he should shout "Go get 'em George" to the group of girls performing to confuse everyone. Another favorite joke o his is to chant "the worm, the worm,, we worship the worm" while the previous team is carrying out their floor.

Ennoshida talks with you as you make one of the biggest changes in your life. Midway through your second semester at university, you determine that business is not for you, however, you do not have a backup plan. Talking with him, you end up changing your major to Geography, and now you love every second of it.

Kageyama drinks the milk out of you cereal. You hate the taste of milk by itself, but you don't want to eat dry cereal. To not waste milk, he drinks it after you finish eating your cereal.

Hinata fails miserably when your mom tells him to reapply the medical glue on your forehead. The day before, your sister threw a wooden block at you, causing a major tear in your head. Your mom took you to the emergency room, but they were busy and it was a school night, so they told her to just take some liquid band aid (which we called glue) and close the wound. Your mom told him to replace the glue, and he took ELMERS GLUE and placed it on the open wound. It hurt like a bitch.

Tsukishima takes you to go see the museum of natural history once a month. He knows you're the odd girl out of your class that would rather play with dinosaurs than dolls, so he takes you to see the dinosaur fossils. He also gets a discount because his place of work donated a significant amount of money and resources to one of the exhibits.

Yamaguchi helped set up your setup once you moved to zoom university. He attached your laptop to a monitor his job had extra, so now you feel like a badass whenever you use the two screens.

Oikawa out of nowhere invites all his high school friends over to stay the week at your house. A trip that probably should have been planned in weeks, even months, is planned in just a weekend. Everyone ends up sleeping on air mattresses and blankets on the floor due to your mom just finishing up replacing the floors in the house (she was not too happy with the sudden trip, but was welcoming anyway)

Iwaizumi makes you watch Godzilla with him whenever it's on TV. Some of his fondest memories include receiving Godzilla themed ornaments from his mom ever Christmas. He also unironically watches those cheesy fan-made Godzilla fights on YouTube for hours on end. Man just likes Godzilla.

Hanamaki and you wear funny hats to a volunteer cookout. The organizers told every one to wear a hat so that their hair didn't get in the food, but you two take it a step further. You wear a banana hat while he wears a hotdog hat.

Matsukawa taught you how to make all kinds of breakfast food at a young age. Whether it was a simple as a fried egg or as complex as French toast, he worked with you until the recipe came out perfect.

Kyotani scares the other parents off when it comes to the silent auction selling the class are projects. Now the shelf you and your kindergarten classmates fingerprinted flowers and bugs on sits proudly in your closet holding crafting supplies.

Ushijima scolds you for leaving the lights on. Most parents do that already, but he takes it to a new extreme. Your mom explains that he would never turn the lights on in his apartment when he was in college and would simply get his homework done before dark. Sometimes, if he had something to do, he would light a candle to finish something up.

Tendou recalls a story in which he stole a bus battery with his buddies to power an air conditioned tent at boy scout camp. He also recalls the year he and his friends tried to build a pool in the wilderness at the same count, only to get caught and reprimanded for it before filling it with water which totally had nothing to do with a camp counselor finding it and having a Vietnam flashback

Goshiki watches anime with you. He always acts like he is uninterested in whatever show is on, but he soon gets super into it and it will be the only thing he talks about for a week.

Kuroo sits at the table with you until 2am working on that math assignment you have been struggling with. You've definitely run out of tears to cry, and had to redo the assignment twice, but he is guiding you through the answers

Yaku isn't a fan of all the pets you and your mom have collected over the years. I mean, in his defense, at one point we had 8 cats an 3 dogs. However, he is also super cuddly with them, always giving them nose boops and belly rubs.

Kenma plays Xbox, Wii, and the ds with you. He doesn't find the bulk of the games you play with him entertaining, but he is willing to run through LEGO Star Wars with you. His personal favorite to play is Mario Kart and he doesn't let you win >:(

Lev is trying to convince the family to let him take the position in Alaska with higher pay. When mom raised the concern that the long winters wouldn't do well for your mental health, his counter argument was, "Yeah, and that sucks, but hear me out. We could have a pet Polar Bear." We didn't move to Alaska

Bokuto was definitely the most enthusiastic dad at the girl scout father daughter dance. He twirled you around in your pretty little JC Penney dress and made sure you two were the center of the dance floor. At one point, he lifted you above his head with each foot in a hand like a cheerleader. Truly terrifying.

Akaashi drives out to the 24-hour pharmacy to pick up some cold medicine when you couldn't sleep due to a stuffy nose. He also checks up on you every hour when you are coughing with some mysterious disease (due to the lack of tests and priority of the high-risk, I will never know if I had Covid when I got sick in late March)

Aone gives you the biggest hug after you get released from the graduation ceremony. He isn't the best with words, so this hug speaks so much to you.

Terushima has been taking you to Mardi Gras in New Orleans since you were a baby. He doesn't care that it's mostly an adult party, he believes that everyone in the family should enjoy a good ol' Mardi Gras

Atsumu carries you on his shoulders all the time when you're small. He just thinks it's the cutest thing.

Osamu makes sure to host a crawfish boil every year. Whether its the neighbors, family, both, or just the household, you can expect some good, spicy crawfish with corn and potatoes whenever he cooks.

Kita teaches you how to drive a stick shift. He's frustrated that you cant move three feet before stalling, but then realizes that the issue was that you were in third gear, not first. He is now impressed that you were even able to start moving at third gear.

Sakusa takes you along with him to work. His job is full of tough men, so when they see him with you in a little blue dress-up tutu and a plastic tiara on your head, their hearts just melt.

[bibbawrites]

Surprise! - Dad!Owen x Pregnant!Female Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 2133 words

Summary: Part 2 of the Dad!Owen series, you reveal to your friends and family that you’re having a baby

Warnings: swearing

A/N: okay here we go, telling your friends and family that you’re pregnant!  as i said in a post the other day, i didnt realise that on survey monkey you could only see 40 results for free so the baby name survey had to end, but if you didnt get a chance to vote and would like to please let me know and i can set up an alternate way to vote :) without further ado, i hope you enjoy! 

Charlie:

The first person who ended up finding out about your pregnancy was Charlie. You had meant to tell your families first, before anyone else, but things didn’t work out as planned.

It was three days after you had found out, and you and Owen were still buzzing. Charlie had been eyeing the two of you suspiciously the last few days, but didn’t call you out on your oddly happy behaviour until that night.

The boys had come home from set, only filming for a couple of hours to re-shoot a scene that needed changing slightly, and you decided to surprise them with pizza from all three of your favourite pizza place. Owen always texted you when they left set, so you knew exactly when to order the pizza to have it arrive just as the boys did.

And your timing was perfect, the pizza arriving almost in unison with your boyfriend and his best friend.

“Y/N, we’re home! You ordered pizza?” Owen called, and you left your bedroom to head to the kitchen, smiling at the boys.

“Figured you could use a treat after filming. Plus I didn’t feel like cooking, so...” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Owen, who lent down to kiss you gently, his hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment before he pulled away, not wanting Charlie to get any more suspicious.

You and Owen headed over to the table where Charlie had placed the pizza and sat down, waiting for Charlie, who had gone to grab drinks.

“Do you want your wine Y/N?” Charlie questioned, placing a beer on the table for himself and one for Owen. You shook your head.

“No thanks, I’m good.” You replied.

“But you love wine with your pizza.” Charlie frowned.

“Not tonight, thanks.” You said, hoping that he would give up.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked. You nodded.

“Yeah I am.” You told him, picking up a slice of pizza and exchanging a look with Owen, silently begging him to step in.

“She’s got this... thing.” Owen chimed in lamely. Charlie frowned again, before a realisation hit him.

“Holy fuck, you’re pregnant.” He exclaimed. Your eyes widened. Owen choked on his beer.

“What? Why would you think that?” Your voice was slightly shaky.

“You always have wine with pizza, no matter what. And that would explain why you two have been so nauseatingly happy the last couple of days.” Charlie reasoned. You glanced at Owen.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You said after a moment. Charlie’s smile widened.

“So you are pregnant?” He asked, and you nodded. He cheered.

“I’m gonna be an uncle!” You giggled at his excited reaction, watching as he hugged Owen happily, and then rushed around the table to throw his arms around you.

He pulled away, placing a hand on your stomach hesitantly. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“I can’t believe there’s a baby in there.” He said softly, kneeling down next to your chair. Owen copied, kneeling down on the other side.

“Right?” Owen’s voice was just as quiet. “My little girl.”

“We don’t know if it’s a girl Owen.” You reminded him. He shook his head.

“I just know it. There’s no way she’s not a girl.” He replied, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

“Can we go back to eating the pizza now?” You said, and the boys agreed, standing up and sitting back in their chairs.

And with that, the first person knew.

Savannah:

The second person to find out was Savannah. You had been pretty sick, dealing with morning sickness, so Savannah decided what you needed was a little bit of retail therapy. 

Which is how you found yourself trailing behind your best friend as she dragged you from store to store. And everything had been going perfectly fine, until you passed a smoked meat store, and the smell set off your nausea. 

“Sav, I think I’m gonna be sick.” You warned, and she reacted quickly, rushing you into the nearby bathrooms and holding your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. 

Once you were done you leant back against the wall of the stall, not even caring that you were sat on the floor of a public toilet. Savannah offered you her water bottle and you took it gratefully, swishing the water around your mouth before spitting it into the bowl and flushing the toilet. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been pretty sick and I’m kinda getting worried about you.” Savannah questioned. You paused for a moment, before deciding how to respond. Hopefully Owen wouldn’t mind another person knowing your secret. 

“I’m pregnant.” You admitted quietly, not wanting anyone in another stall to overhear. Savannah gasped, throwing her arms around your neck. You hugged her back gently. 

“This is amazing Y/N.” She exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be an aunty!” 

“You can’t tell anyone yet, other than Owen only Charlie knows.” You told her as she let you go. She nodded quickly. 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She promised. You grinned, letting her pull you off the floor. 

“Now, can we go look at baby clothes?” Savannah questioned once you were both on your feet. You smiled happily. 

“Of course we can.” You agreed, linking your arm through hers as you headed out of the toilets, so excited that you had another person who you could talk about baby things with. 

Owen’s Mum/Family:

Next was Owen’s mum, who had come to visit for a few days. You had thought of a brilliant way to tell her, after hearing how much she enjoyed building with nano blocks. 

You had gone out before Owen had arrived home from the airport with his mum, and you had picked out the perfect present, wrapping it nicely. 

Finally the time came to give her the parcel, as she sat across from you and Owen in the living room later that night. 

Owen handed her the box, the card you had written on to clarify the situation grasped firmly in his hand as he waited anxiously, his foot tapping.

His mother ripped off the wrapping paper, finding a box of large lego blocks, the kind designed for babies and small children. She looked up, confused, and Owen held out the card.

“Read it out loud.” You prompted.

She took the card, opening the envelope and pulling it out, before opening it up.

“I can’t wait to build with you. Lots of love, your future granddaughter or grandson.” She read out. She gasped, looking between the two of you.

“Are you having a baby?” She questioned. You and Owen nodded. Her hand covered her mouth as she began to cry.

“I'm gonna be an Oma?” She asked, as Owen got up from his spot next to you to go hug his mother.

“You can be whatever you want to be called.” He replied. His mother smiled tearily, holding an arm out for you to join the hug. You grinned, sitting down on her other side and letting her pull you into the hug.

“Can I tell the rest of the family?” She asked, still in the hug.

“Maybe don’t tell everyone yet, cause we’re only 10 weeks, but you can tell Dad and Luka, and everyone else I guess. Just no extended family.” Owen replied.

“Okay I can do that. Congratulations, both of you.” She said, and you both thanked her in quiet voices. 

She stood up, grabbing the box of lego and the card. 

“I’m off to bed if I can manage to sleep. Tomorrow we’re going nursery furniture shopping.” She told you, and before either of you could protest she was gone. 

“Well that went well.” You giggled and Owen nodded in agreement. 

“Three down, only a few more to go.” He said. You made a noise in agreement, snuggling into his side to watch a movie, and you fell asleep with his hands resting gently on your stomach.

Your Family:

Next to learn about the baby was your family. To tell them you had sent them a parcel, with the instructions to call you on facetime before opening it.

You, Owen and Charlie were curled up on the couch, Owen’s head resting just below your stomach and Charlie’s head in your lap, when your phone rang, signifying you had an incoming facetime.

Owen sat up and picked up your phone, handing it to you before curling into your side, and you smiled when you saw it was your mum calling.

“I assume they got the box then.” You spoke before answering, your mum, dad and big brother appearing on the screen.

“Hi guys!” You greeted. “Got the parcel?”

“We did, can we open it now?” Your mum questioned. Charlie glanced at you.

“Want me to leave?” He asked quietly, and both you and Owen shook your heads.

“You can stay.” Owen said softly. You turned your attention back to your family.

“Okay, open it.” You instructed, and your dad ripped the box open, pulling out four smaller boxes, one for each of them and a fourth, which was one of the positive pregnancy tests.

“One at a time?” Your mum suggested and you shook your head.

“Same time, or it will ruin the surprise.”

You watched as they ripped into the boxes, each pulling out a t-shirt.

“Promoted to Nanna?” Your mum read out, a confused look on her face.

“Mine says promoted to Poppy.” Your dad said. You grinned, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh shit, you’re not.” Your brother realised, and you laughed.

“Open the last box.”

“How have they not gotten it?” Charlie questioned under his breath, and Owen giggled at the comment.

Your mum pulled the pregnancy test out and gasped, finally realising.

“You’re having a baby!” She exclaimed.

“Surprise!” You laughed.

“When?” Your dad asked.

“Not for a while now, I’m only 11 weeks.”

“Congratulations!” Your mum smiled happily. 

You returned her smile and after a few more minutes explaining, you said your goodbyes and hung up. 

“Now it’s only the cast.” You said, and Owen nodded, repositioning himself so that his head rested next to Charlie’s in your lap. Charlie unpaused the movie you had been watching and you rested your head on the couch. 

This whole thing was getting very real. 

The Cast - Jeremy, Madi, Carolynn, Jadah and Kenny

Finally the time came to tell the cast.

“So, what do you guys think about having a baby around on set?” You questioned casually. Carolynn gasped and Jeremy shot her a concerned look.

“Babies are pretty loud.” Madi replied.

“Yeah, they probably wouldn’t be good to have when you have to be quiet on set.” Jadah agreed. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. You met Carolynn’s eyes and she gave you an excited look. You nodded slightly and she squealed, ignoring the weird looks she was getting from Jeremy.

“Why are we talking about babies?” Kenny questioned, sitting back down.

“Y/N asked about babies being on set.” Jadah told him.

“As in working babies or?” Kenny asked and you shook your head.

“Just babies in general.” Owen chimed in.

“Wait...” Madi spoke up, realisation slowly appearing on her face. “Are you pregnant?”

You grinned sheepishly, taking a sip of your drink. The table erupted in noise, everyone excitedly talking over each other, asking all sorts of questions.

“Oh my god shut up.” Charlie yelled over the noise, and the table went quiet. “One at a time.”

“How far along are you?” Carolynn asked.

“12 weeks yesterday.” You replied.

“How long have you known?” Jadah was next to ask her question.

“About 6 weeks.” Owen answered for you. “We wanted to wait a bit.”

“I knew the whole time.” Charlie boasted.

“Only because you live with us and there’s no way we would have been able to hide it from you.” You told him.

“When do you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Madi asked.

“She’s a girl.” Owen said. You groaned.

“Stop saying that. We don’t know yet and we won’t know for a little while, but Mr Psychic here seems to be convinced that it’s a girl.” You sighed slightly. 

“I just know it.” Owen said with a huff. 

“Any more questions?” You asked quickly, before he could get sulky. 

“I have one, do you know what a condom is?” Jeremy joked. Madi and Jadah gasped, both hitting his arm.

“We are children.” Jadah reminded him. You laughed.

“Yes.” You answered simply. Jeremy laughed. 

“Fair enough then.” 

You sat back and listened as the conversation moved into baby names, with everyone throwing out suggestions. 

You smiled softly, placing a hand on your stomach. Somehow this had become your life, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

[tropes-and-tales]

Every Unhappy Family, Chapter Six

Characters:  Nick Amaro and F!Reader

WC:  5330

Other Pieces:  This is part of a series.

CW:  Language.  Smut.  18+ only.

________________

It was exactly how Nick had expected it to go:  in the morning, you joked the kiss away.  You punched him lightly (‘we’re just two bros,’ your punch told him, ‘nothing more.’)  You poured yourself a coffee and told Nick that you were going to make sure he led the next enthusiastic consent seminar that NYPD sometimes put on at Hudson University.

“Taking advantage of a half-asleep woman,” you admonished him with a smile.  “And you, drunk on light beer.  Shameful, Nicholas.”

You didn’t get that he knew your tells by now.  You probably thought you were fooling him, but Nick knew you better than you realized.  He saw the way your cheeks pinked just a bit.  He saw how you carefully stepped around him in the kitchen to get your coffee.  In the past, you’d just charge him like a bull until he stepped out of your way at the last minute.  Now, you kept a careful six inches between you and him, like when the nuns stalked his Catholic middle school dances to make sure no one’s genitals were too close to each other.

Nick let it go for the time being.  He wanted more with you, but he couldn’t really complain about what he had:  he was your partner at work, he lived with you.  He was in your tiny spare bedroom (decorated in Star Wars with stray Legos that crept out at night to get under his feet) and not in your bed, but he didn’t want to rush anything anyway.  He loved you – he knew it.  He wanted to do it right.

And he knew you needed approached in a certain way.  You were still deeply hurt over your own ended marriage from years ago.  There was also a failed engagement afterwards that he didn’t know much about.  Nick wanted to be the charmed third time, not another link in a chain of misery.

So he let it go.  For now.

He had to sell his house.  It was part of the divorce agreement – sell the house, split the proceeds, no alimony.  Maria made more than him anyway, and he was too proud to take alimony.  Nick handled dinner the night he had to break it to you.  You were easily swayed by his Cuban recipes, and when he described them to you in Spanish, he noted how your eyes drifted to his mouth when he did.  Interesting.  Nick didn’t hide his heritage, but he didn’t play it up like some Latino men did.  Maybe he should.

“There’s an offer on my house,” he explained over ropa vieja and wine.  “Once it sells, I’ll have enough for a deposit somewhere.”  He paused and glanced up at you to see your reaction, but you had a carefully neutral expression.

“Okay,” was all you said.

“Or,” he offered.  “I thought maybe I could start paying you rent, halving the utilities…I can always stay at my mother’s when I have Zara or when your nephew comes to visit.”  He let the idea trail off and tried to gauge your reaction to that.  No reaction, which told him plenty.

“You’re always welcome here, but whatever you think is best,” you replied, and Nick could read between the lines.  If you wanted him out, you’d tell him to get the hell out.  But if you wanted him to stay, you’d never say so.  You hated to appear weak, so you never asked for the things you needed or wanted.  You’d say “whatever you think is best” with a blank expression and hope he’d stay.

So he did.

*****

There wasn’t a word to describe how you were living.  

You’d never felt this way about someone before.  With Jamie, it had been a natural progression from kids riding bikes together to kids in love.  You’d never had a crush on him because he’d always just been there.  You loved him, but that love had grown out of familiarity and friendship.

With your ex-fiancée, as much as you hated to admit it, it had been largely due to timing and loneliness.  You had reached a few milestones after Jamie died – a year, two years – and you felt like you had to reenter the dating scene.  You’d met your ex.  He seemed fine.  It was convenient.

Nick, though.  Nick Amaro – handsome, smart.  A wreck in some ways, remarkably pulled together in others.  A great father, a good husband until life spiraled out of control.  A good partner at work and a better roommate.  

And a good kisser.  You’d been half asleep and he’d been half drunk, but that lone kiss had sparked something inside you that you’d been carefully ignoring for a while.

But one kiss meant nothing, and Nick was coming off of a messy and painful divorce.  It was far more likely that he was just lonely or rebounding, so you tried your best to just ignore that feeling that made your chest feel tight and your stomach feel a little flu-like.  

That feeling?  The only reason you didn’t recognize it was because it had been so long that you’d felt it.  It was love.

*****

Cases at SVU came and went, and they were rarely anything but awful.  The latest was a domestic violence.  A former football player had been caught on camera punching his girlfriend and dragging her across a parking garage like a bag of garbage, and it was all Nick could do to keep his temper under control.  It made him sick, every time he had to watch the footage.  A.J. Martin was three times the size of his girlfriend, Paula.  

It disgusted him.  Even in his worst times with Maria, he never once thought to raise his hand to her.  He had loved his wife, and maybe it was old-fashioned, but he had always felt a tender sort of protectiveness around her.  Which was laughable, really – Maria was an ace markswoman and had survived active duty.  She’d be better at protecting him, most likely.  But still – a husband and father should protect, not attack his family like a rabid dog.

They were halfway through the trial.  Nick begrudgingly admitted that Barba was giving a spirited attack to Calhoun’s defense, but it was tricky territory.  The victim was firmly on the accused’s side, which put the ADA in a tough spot when it came to questioning her.  Everyone was on edge, frustrated.  You had suggested drinks after court was adjourned, and both Nick and Amanda took you up on the offer.

Nick realized afterwards that you had been trying to break the hold of the trial.  You ordered a round for the three of you and tried to broach different subjects – the exorbitant price of tickets for the hit show on Broadway, the weather, a movie you’d recently seen.  You even mentioned the Mets (for Nick’s benefit, he realized), and you hated baseball.  You could sense the tension and were trying to dispel it.

He’d realize too late that you were doing what you’d done your entire childhood – try to head off a disaster before it happened.  At the bar, however, Nick didn’t see it.  He just talked with Amanda about the case. Finished a drink.  Bickered with Amanda.  Had another drink.  Before he knew it, he and the petite blonde were full-on arguing, and you were forgotten between the two of them.

Amanda was clearly drunk.  Nick was only tipsy.  It was the same argument they had in the squad room days earlier, but stirred up now by the trial and booze and bad feeling.

“Take it easy,” Nick warned Amanda, but she was in a belligerent mood.  

“You counting my drinks now?” she sneered back at him.  “Saint Nick, Savior of Damaged Women.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw you reach for Amanda’s arm to try and soothe her mood.  “No man has a right to hit a woman,” he told her.

Back and forth they went.  Nick barely saw you as you winced at each barb he and Amanda traded, and his temper was steadily rising.  Amanda took cheap shots – about his arguments with Maria at the precinct.  He didn’t rise to those, so she started shoving him, pushing his shoulder and goading him to hit her.

Nick would never, ever hit a woman, but he still snapped.  He took his mostly-empty drink glass and threw it, and he relished the satisfying sound of breaking glass and gasps of startled patrons around him.  It was a split-second of satisfaction until the shame immediately set in.  He was no better than his father, for Christ’s sake.  Or nearly as bad.

But his temper re-flared when he saw you – your hands on Amanda, holding her back and fussing over her.  Of course – you were on her side.  Sticking together with your original partner because you never wanted to be paired with him in the first place.  He felt angry at you too.  Angry that you barely let him into your life, angry that you didn’t see how he felt about you.  

Angry that you’d seen him lose his temper, angry that you’d judge him for it.  He could do a million things right – with Maria, with you – but he’d always fall short in the end.

“I’m doing what A.J. Martin should have done,” he snapped at Amanda – and you.  “I’m walking away.”  He pivoted on his heel, and the last thing he heard was you asking Amanda if she was okay, and her huff of bitter laughter in response.

-----

He waited up for you.  He knew he shouldn’t:  he should shower and go to bed and just joke it away in the morning like you always did.

Nick was too worked up though.  The more he ran through his fight with Amanda, the madder he got at you. You didn’t stick up for him at all.  You sided with her.  He didn’t know too much about your childhood, but out of anyone, you should have been on his side.

He was spoiling for round two of the fight, and he waited up to have it with you.

You got home an hour later.  He sat on the couch and watched you kick off your shoes and shed your coat, and you gave him a tight smile when you caught him watching you.  You asked if he was okay, and he only scoffed at you and didn’t answer.

You walked over to where he was sitting, and you put your hands on your hips as you stared down at him.  “You mad at me?”  He grunted the affirmative, and you sighed.

“I had to get Amanda out of there,” you said as you plopped down beside him.  “You seemed fine to get yourself home.”

Nick gritted his teeth and responded.  “It’s not the logistics of getting everyone home.  It’s this case.”  He swiveled his head to look at you.  “You really agree with Rollins, that Paula Martin can take care of herself?  You think this case is a bust?”  The more he talked, the angrier he got.

You only shrugged at him.  “I’d agree with Amanda that the moon landing was faked if it meant getting her home in one piece.”  When he didn’t laugh, you sighed again and scrubbed your hands over your face.  

“Look,” you told him, and you didn’t look at him.  You kept your gaze focused on a spot on the floor.  “My dad hit my mom every day when I was growing up, and when I was old enough to try and intervene, he hit me.”  A pause.  “Neighbors called the cops all the time, but my mom never pressed charges.  Teachers saw bruises on me, called the cops, but my mom made excuses.  ‘She’s clumsy,’ she’d tell them.  ‘Trips a lot.’  When I was sixteen, seventeen, I just left home.  Went across the street and lived with Jamie.  His dad was a widower and made me sleep in a separate room, but he knew what my family was like.”  Another shrug, and you raised your head to glance at Nick.  “So no, I don’t agree with Amanda.”

Nick’s anger didn’t fade – it just shifted to your father.  A man he’d never met, but he could guess what he was like.  His own father, Nicholas Amaro Sr., used his fists and his hurtful words in equal measure, and it had left everyone scarred – him, his sister, his mother.  

He knew what it was like to grow up in a home like that.  It made Nick feel rage, the thought of you as a kid, absorbing the same blows he had absorbed as a kid.  It was a pointless rage.  There wasn’t anything he could do to fix it.

You dropped your head to stare at the floor again.  “You know, Amanda grew up in…less than ideal conditions too,” you told him, halting as you chose your words carefully.  “I know she was…challenging tonight, but try to spare a little understanding for her.”  You turned to him with eyes that looked a little watery.  “When I tucked her into bed, she was already starting with the self-loathing.”

Nick nodded, and you nodded in return.  There was a stretch of silence.  It was heavy, but not from awkwardness between the two of you.  The weight of the silence was more likely attributed to the bad memories that were crowding in each of your heads.  That, and the Martin case.

“How’s that saying go?” Nick finally asked, breaking the silence.  “’Every happy family is the same, but every unhappy family is unique’?”

You snorted and sat back against the couch, slumped in exhaustion.  “I think it’s backwards, actually.  Happy families are unique, but unhappy ones are the same.  Think about it, Nick – me, you, Amanda, Barba…we all had the same sort of childhood, and I bet we all have the same issues because of it.”

“Probably.”

You shifted on the couch a bit until you were facing him, and he turned to look at you too.  You were clearly tired, worn down.  You had dark circles under your eyes, and you were doing that slow blink you did when you were tipsy or, more often than not, exhausted.  Like him, you weren’t eating well or sleeping well, and it showed.  

“You know I have your back, right, Nick?” you asked.  Your voice was soft and almost pleading.  “Don’t be mad at me.  I just wanted to get everyone out of the bar before there was any trouble.”

He sighed, and the last stubborn bit of anger faded away.  “I know.  I’m sorry…I didn’t react better.”

You gave him a half-smile.  “Amanda has a way of needling people right in their soft spots.  I just need you to know that I’ve got your back, even when it might seem like I don’t, okay?”

Nick nodded, and he reached out to grasp your hand in his.  You didn’t pull away, which was saying something, but he joked with you to keep the situation light.

“You say you have my back,” he said mournfully.  “But you’ve never once came to one of my rec league softball games.”

You groaned, rolled your eyes.  Pulled your hand from his to chuck him playfully in his arm.  “I don’t even like professional baseball games, and they have beer and brats there.”

“Still….”  He tried to look as woebegone as possible.  “A good partner would come cheer me on…”

You laughed at him and stood up, and you extended your hand to him to haul him up too.  “Hell might freeze over, Nick,” you told him as you walked towards your bedroom.  “So don’t give up hope.”

Nick went to his own room, and he fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.  He realized though, before he drifted off, that he had stayed up to fight with you – and had ended up laughing with you by the end instead.  He never had that before, even with Maria in their best of times.

-----

The jury in the Martin case came back with a guilty charge, shocking everyone – including SVU and Barba.  A rare victory in a domestic violence case, so everyone went to Forlini’s to celebrate.  You must have spoken to Rollins at some point – she pulled Nick aside and apologized.  Nick, for his part, apologized too, and Rollins replied by jerking her chin in your direction across the bar.  You were trying to pretend that you weren’t watching them, and you were failing utterly.  It made Nick smile, and Rollins caught it.

“You like her,” she said.  A statement, not a question.  He nodded.

“No,” she continued.  She tilted her head and fixed him with her bright blue eyes.  “You love her.”  That was more of a question, and Nick only made a noise in his throat that was neither an affirmation nor a denial.

Rollins only looked at him a moment, trying to suss him out.  “A bit of insight, Saint Nick.  She thinks you’re rebounding.  And she doesn’t think she could take just being a rebound.”  

Then she walked back to the table where Fin was telling some story from the old days at SVU, and Nick followed a moment later, lost in his own thoughts.

*****

There was something about springtime that made you feel antsy, and “antsy” was just a nicer way to say that your interludes with your detachable showerhead wasn’t cutting it.  It was almost like the spring pollen set off your allergies and your libido.  

Having Nick in the apartment didn’t help, although he helped nurse you through your annual bout with hay fever.  You were a complete grouch, unable to breathe, eyes constantly running.  He handled it all like a pro, dosing you with Allegra and feeding you your favorite foods and ducking your blows when he made fun of your nasally voice.

Then your allergies passed, and you could see your partner/roommate more clearly – in his shorts, and his t-shirts that strained just a bit around the shoulders in that way you inexplicably liked.  It was hard enough to resist him from his personality; it was criminal that he could be so hot too.

You went out with Amanda a few times now that the weather was nice, but you were just there as a wing-woman.  Technically single, but you didn’t really consider yourself available.  Amanda called you out on it once.  You told her the same thing you always did – you didn’t want to be a rebound – but she gave you that look she had that made you feel like you were utterly transparent.  

“Nick is too much of a Boy Scout to be a player,” she told you.  She sounded weary, like she was tired of seeing the world clearly and translating it for the idiots around her.  “He plays for keeps.”  She looked you up and down pointedly.  “Maybe give him a prize worth playing for.”

That made you snort at her, but her words stayed with you all night.  When you got home, Nick was asleep on the couch (a baseball game highlights on the T.V. – since moving in permanently, you reluctantly agreed to the expanded sports package).  You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then you remembered Amanda’s words.  Maybe he was waiting up for you.

You only watched him sleep for a moment.  Asleep, he looked like a boy almost – all the tension he carried in his face during the long work days was melted away, and his hair was tousled.  You turned the T.V. off and pulled the light blanket from the back of the couch to cover him.  

The next morning was Saturday, and you were both off for the entire, glorious weekend.  Nick had a softball game, and he asked with that kicked-puppy look he had if you were coming to cheer him on.

You listed out the other things you had to do that were preferable – clean the apartment, get groceries, get a root canal, do your taxes by hand on paper forms…Nick only gave you his saddest eyes, and he said he’d be back later.

If you got your chores done early, that was just a coincidence.  If you took a quick shower to clean up, it was just because it was a muggy day in the city.  That’s the excuse you gave too for the sundress you put on, but you dressed it down with a pair of Keds.

And if you made your way over to the park where the inter-borough rec league played their games, it was just because there was literally nothing else to do – no books to read, no movies to watch – so you might as well go watch an amateur version of the worst sport ever.

There was a small cluster of spectators, and you made your way over towards them.  You scanned the field – it looked like Nick out in the outfield, but your eyes weren’t that good.  You waited until they got their outs and came in to bat.  Yes, it was Nick.

Christ, this was a bad idea.  The low-simmering desire you tamped down daily was bad enough when he was in his stuffy dress shirts and ties.  You much preferred Casual-Nick, the boy next door loping into the infield in gym wear and a hat.  That was the Nick that joked around and smiled and wasn’t completely ground down by his job.

He didn’t see you right away, and you drifted to the chain link fence.  You could hear the men in the dugout, their casual banter and laughter.  You recognized it from your own days as a hockey player, and you felt a wave of nostalgia for the comradery of a team sport.  You were lost in reminiscing, and you almost missed Nick stepping up to the plate.

Some of his teammates tried to overcompensate for a lack of skill with big, meaty swings.  Nick had finesse, a casual athleticism that made you wonder if it extended to more intimate activities.  He took a few practice swings, then stepped into the box, and his swing was confident and true.  He hit the gap between center and right field, and he was a quick sprinter (which you knew from running down perps with him).  A double, and he settled on second base before taking a nervy leadoff towards third.

You twined your fingers in the chain-link fence.  “Stealing can be a felony, detective,” you called, and you laughed at the surprise as Nick swiveled his head towards your voice, saw you, and broke into a broad grin.

Then he turned, too late, to see the pitcher toss the ball to the second baseman.  Who tagged him out with a smirk.

You ducked your head as Nick jogged past you to return to the dugout, where his teammates were jeering at him for ogling a woman instead of paying attention.  “Sorry,” you told him, but he only shook his head and smiled at you.

*****

Nick never in a million years thought you’d actually turn up to one of his games.  It had only been a joke when he asked you to, since you had a hatred of baseball.  But there you were:  not just standing on the sidelines, but looking like a vision in a sweetly sexy dress and a pair of sneakers.  He could barely look away.

You stayed the entire time, and every time he looked at you, you were present – watching the game, not fiddling on your phone.  He was able to make up for his embarrassing tag-out by hitting two triples, and his team won in the end anyway.  He gathered up his gear and walked over to where you were standing and waiting for him with a smile on your face.

“You came,” he said.

“Well, I didn’t want to be accused of not being a good partner.”  The two of you fell in step together as you made your way out of the park.

“A good partner wouldn’t get me tagged when I’m trying to steal a base.”

You elbowed him in his side.  “Take it or leave it, Amaro.  I came and cheered you on, didn’t I?”

The joking, the easiness with you was the same as always, but Nick was hyperaware of you walking beside him in your dress.  You favored comfortable clothes, but you wore dresses – usually when you went out with Amanda.  Had you dressed up for him?  More likely, you’d just worn it because it was muggy and hot out.

He studied you out of the corner of his eye as you waited at a crosswalk.  Your hair was up in a high ponytail, and a few stray strands were curled against your neck from the humidity.  The dress wasn’t explicitly sexy – it was a simple cotton affair in deep green, and it showed off the swell of your breasts nicely.  The skirt wasn’t short, hitting just above the knee.  It had thin straps, showing an expanse of your smooth skin.  Nick imagined putting his mouth there – on your neck, on your shoulder.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sort of noises you’d make if he did.  He felt himself getting aroused, and he shifted his gym bag surreptitiously to hide the fact from you.

If you noticed, you didn’t let on.  You only chattered about your day:  running errands, talking with your sister and nephew.  The following weekend, Zara was coming to visit, so you were planning your own trip to Boston to see your own family.

Once you got to your apartment building, though, you fell silent.  In the elevator, your bare arm brushed his to hit the button, and it made you jump.  When Nick looked at you, your face was blushing furiously, and he realized all at once that he wasn’t the only one feeling amorous.

Maybe it was just winning the game, but more likely, it was you coming to his game.  The simple action spoke volumes to him, and it gave him the courage he’d been lacking with you.

Mostly, he was tired of waiting.  He wanted you, badly.

You both entered the apartment, and you turned to throw the deadbolt.  Nick dropped his gym bag, and when you turned back around, you turned straight into his arms.

“What – “ you started to say, but he only pressed you against the door, pinning your body with his.  Not hard or forceful, but insistent.  There was a single second of doubt when he leaned in to kiss you, but you gave yourself away – your gaze flickered to his mouth before returning to his eyes.

If your half-asleep kiss months ago was sweet, this one decidedly wasn’t.  It was pure hunger:  you parted your lips and slid your own tongue against his, groaning at the taste of him and swallowing his own groans as he tasted you.  Nick was made nearly breathless by your ardor, how you pulled his lower lip into your mouth and twined your fingers through his hair to pull him closer to you.  

He reached up to cup the side of your face, and he tilted your head to deepen the kiss.  His other hand ran down your bare arm, warm from the sun, and came to rest on your waist.  He pulled you closer to him, and you obviously felt his erection pressed against your hip, judging from the way your breath hitched in your throat.

Nick broke the kiss, and he gazed down at you.  Your face was still flushed, and you were doing that same slow-blink you did when you were tired or tipsy.  Maybe you were drunk on him.  The thought made a pulse of blood go straight to his groin.

“This okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.  You only nodded at him.  Dazed.  A little stunned.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he muttered, and you tugged him back to you to kiss him again.  You sighed against him and arched your body into his.  He wanted to carry you into the bedroom and put his mouth on every inch of you; he wanted to fuck you against the door until you came apart against him.

Instead, he broke away to kiss the soft skin of your neck, just like he had imagined.  He tried to slow his pace and lay a trail, from the spot below your ear, down your throat where your pulse thudded under his lips, across your shoulder.  He pushed the strap of your dress carefully aside, then kissed the little indent on your skin.

“This okay?” he muttered again against you.  When you whispered “yes,” he reversed the path and repeated it on the other side of you – from the hinge of your jaw down to your sun-kissed shoulder.

Your own hands were moving now.  You shifted one hand to rest between his shoulder blades, and the other hand drifted lower, skimming over his chest and stomach until it circled dangerously close to his erection.  There was a question in your hesitation, though, so he pressed himself forward into your hand, and he groaned thickly as you cupped him through his shorts and stroked him.

It had been so long for him.  Maria had been overseas for a year, and their marriage had crumbled when she returned to the states.  He’d been living with you, and wanting you even longer than that, and here you were now:  your warm body pressed against him, heated by the summer sun and your desire.  Your bare skin under his mouth, the clean scent of you surrounding him.  

Your hand, stroking him.  Tentative at first, then bolder the more he muttered against you between the kisses he was laying on each inch of skin he bared as he pushed the top of your dress lower and lower.  

He was only at the top of your breasts, still hidden under the green cotton of your dress, when he realized with dawning horror that he’d crossed a threshold he hadn’t crossed in a very long time.  He’d blame his long involuntary celibacy later, but now…

“Wait, stop,” he whispered, and you did, but a beat too late.  Nick felt the steadily tightening coil in his belly snap, just like that, and he came with a groan.  Like a goddamned teenaged boy.

You only pulled him into a hug, and you stroked the back of his neck as he shuddered against you and then recovered.  He didn’t want to pull back and look at you – if you laughed at him or were disappointed in him, both options seemed terrible.

You finally pushed him away gently, and your weren’t laughing or disappointed.  The drowsy, stunned look was gone though, and it was replaced by your carefully neutral face.

The one you used when you were trying to hide your real thoughts.

“We shouldn’t have…” you started and trailed off without finishing.

Nick felt his stomach drop.  He messed it up, and he’d barely even had a chance to start.  He felt an irrational flare of anger, the same heat in his gut that bubbled to the surface in harsh words.  He took one look at you – that too-cautious face – and knew what the problem was.  You still loved your husband, the dead Jamie, elevated to sainthood in your mind, probably.  So he told you.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have,” he retorted.  “Because I can’t compete with a fucking ghost.”

Your careful mask fell, but you didn’t look at him with hurt like he expected.  It was surprise.

He didn’t give you a chance to argue with him.  He saw the situation clearly.  You were never going to want him.  “I’m gonna shower,” he said.  “Then I’m going to my mom’s house.”

He pivoted and went to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.  When he came out after his shower, your bedroom door was shut, so he only packed an overnight bag and left.

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @rachelxwayne   @stardust-fray   @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee   @amneris21  @paintballkid711   @mad-girl-without-a-box   @bestattempt   @beccabarba   @sonnybarisi   @storiesofsvu   @zizzlekwum  @welcometothemadxxhouse   @neely1177   @thesandbeneathmytoes   @permanentlydizzy  @mgarner1227

[winterscaptain]

misdirected.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: alright! The moment yall have been waiting for (other than that last moment you were all waiting for!) we have jack’s quick rebellion! Yay! this takes place in au!march 2012.

words: 1.35k warnings: language, a touch of angst and then its cute

summary: any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts. - arnold bennett

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“C’mon kiddo, time for bed.” 

Jack, still frustrated from his dad’s confiscation of the Wii hours earlier, promptly and simply responds, “No.” 

“Jack…”

“I want to keep building.” 

You step farther into his room and kneel beside him. “Can we build some more in the morning? Maybe together?” 

He shakes his head. “I want to build now. By myself." 

You know Aaron is in the other room. You know you should go get him. There’s part of you stubbornly reliant on your closeness with Jack, so you try again. “Jack, babe, it’s past eight, we needed to start getting ready about fifteen minutes ago.” 

When you reach out to touch his shoulder, he flinches. You draw your hand back as if burned and search for his eyes. “You alright, bud?”

“Go away.” 

Tears spring into your eyes, but you keep them back with a deep breath. “Is there something I can do for you before I go?”

“I want my dad.” 

“Okay.” Taking the loss, you stand and pad down the hallway, trying to smooth out your breath along the way. 

He’s never been like that. 

He’s never talked to me like that. 

Aaron instantly picks up on your anguish when you close the bedroom door behind you, closing the case file in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

You open your mouth to speak, but are overcome before anything can come out. 

He, of course, fears the worst at your silence, jumping out of bed. “Is Jack alright, where is -”

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” You stop him with two hands flat on his chest, and he immediately picks them up, kissing your fingers. 

“Baby, what’s wrong. You’re scaring me a little.” 

You shake your head. “Jack’s just - he…” You take another breath. “He just snapped at me and -” You falter, feeling a little silly for being so affected by a six-year-old’s misdirected frustration. 

Aaron pulls you to his chest and you bring your hands under his arms and around his shoulders, winding your fingers in his shirt. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I told him,” you say around little hiccups, “I told him it was time for bed, like I usually do, and he just...said no and told me to go away and get you.” Your grip on his shirt loosens a little as he pulls back, wiping your tears with his thumb. “It seems so small, I almost feel stupid -” 

“No. Don’t feel stupid. I’ll go talk to him.” 

You nod, accepting the kiss pressed to your cheek. 

He leaves the door open behind him, and you go to the bathroom to wash your face and get ready for bed yourself, even though it's two hours earlier than normal - you’re exhausted. Aaron’s voice murmurs down the hall, with some interjections by Jack here and there. Two pairs of feet travel to the hall bath before Aaron trots in to grab his toothbrush with another quick kiss to your temple. 

You listen as they brush their teeth together in the hall and return to Jack’s room. After a long time sitting on the edge of the bathtub, you slip into bed and close your eyes. 

Sleep doesn’t come. 

Aaron returns and flips the light switch, bathing the room in a blue-tinted darkness. You’ve calmed down significantly since he left, but you’d be lying if you said you felt any better. 

He tucks up behind you, flush to your back from back to calf, and wraps an arm around you. “Hi.”

You hum a little by way of greeting. 

“Jack and I are gonna have a little day tomorrow, just us. I think the transition is a lot for him and having you here with us isn’t as easy as he expected.” 

You nod. “That’s fine.” 

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “I’m sorry he lashed out at you today, honey. He loves you so much.” 

“I know.” You sniff. “He’s just little and he lost his mom and it’s a lot after just having you and Jess around for so long and you were just gone for a long time and...” 

“Yeah,” Aaron says, nearly at a whisper. “The changes probably snuck up on him and I was a little hard on him this afternoon - his attitude, while badly-placed, isn’t a mystery.” 

“Right.” 

His lips travel in sweet kisses from behind your ear to your shoulder. “I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re here.” 

Your lower lip shakes as a fresh set of tears fall into your pillow. “I know. I love you too.”

Neither one of you sleep very well. 

+++

Jack’s still standoffish in the morning, but you let it roll off you as best you can. Aaron has a whole day planned - a Saturday, just for the boys - and has been a little conservative with the affection in front of Jack. 

Maybe cooling it off is a good idea...

You’re not sure what you’ll do today. 

The office, maybe? 

Today is full of maybes. 

Aaron offers you a soft smile as he pulls the front door closed behind him. 

+++

You do end up going into the office for a couple of hours, clearing your emails, and getting ahead on consults. You slip any relevant paperwork under Aaron’s door and head home, tapping your fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. 

At this point, Aaron and Jack should be home by now, just like you’d planned. The last thing you wanted to do was wait around for them all day, but you missed them. 

You only hoped Jack missed you, too. 

When you step into the house, you find Aaron at the table working on his computer. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You smile at him, hanging your coat. “Hey, love. I went to the office for a little while to catch up on some stuff.” 

“You’re ahead at work.” 

You wave him off. He’s right, but there was always something to do. “How long have you two been home?”

He checks his watch. “Just over a half-hour, so not too long.” 

There’s an unspoken question and Aaron tilts his head toward the hall. “He’s in his room. He wants to talk to you.” 

With a breath, you cross the room and pad down the hallway, knocking twice on Jack’s door frame. He’s playing with the same LEGOs he had last night, but they’re significantly farther along in construction. “Hey, bud.” 

“Hi.”

“Can I come sit with you? Your dad told me you wanted to talk.”

He nods and clears space for you on the floor. You sit cross-legged beside him, waiting him out. 

He assembles LEGOs for a little while, quiet. When he reaches a decent stopping point, he turns toward you. 

Listen. Count to ten. 

Listen. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t nice yesterday,” he says, quiet. “I was mad about the Wii and I missed my mom and I got really frustrated.” 

I miss her too, bud. 

Taking the chance that he’s finished after a moment of silence, you reach a hand out. He puts his little hand in yours and you offer him a small smile. “Thank you for your apology, Jack. I really appreciate it, and I forgive you. I’m sorry if I overstepped or if you felt like I was bossing you around. I didn’t mean to do that.” 

He shakes his head. “You weren’t.” 

“Good.” You sigh, looking up at one of the photos of Haley on his short bookshelf. “And buddy, I’m not here to replace your mom. I’m here because I love you and I love your dad, and that always comes first to me, okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. That’s what Dad said.” 

Of course he did. 

“And,” you continue, “I totally understand if it’s a lot to have me around all the time. It’s really different and I know it can be weird sometimes.”

He nods. “Thanks.” 

“Just tell me, okay?” You brush some hair off his forehead while he continues to work. 

He needs a haircut. 

“I will.” 

You press a kiss to the side of his head. “Thank you, baby. I appreciate it.” 

He smiles a little, and you take your leave. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me

[agerestorybits]

morality abandoned.

(Themes of verbal abuse and neglect) 

(please informing me if I need to correct the tags, thank you.)

Patton used to be taken care of. Roman and Virgil would take turns watching him but now…

Patton was little hugging his stuffed cat that he got from Roman and knocked on Roman’s door only to be ignored again. “Ro?” He called softly, clearly little. Still Roman refused him enterary.

So he left to go check if Virgil would talk to him again. It was unlikely but still he would hope before going back to bed to cry for the remainder of his time little then pick himself back up, move on and try to fix things.

Even if it never worked.

He was halfway there when he ran into Remus. “What’s a little thing like you running around alone for?” He asked seeing that Patton was regressed.

Patton sniffed and pointed at Virgil’s door.

“Mm Cg.” He muttered.

Remus nodded and let him past to the door. Patton knocked. “Vee? Can see ou now?”

“FUCK OFF!” Virgil growled from inside.

Patton jumped at the yell before his shoulders slumped and tears fell. He sat down on the floor outside Virgil’s door and hid his face in his plushie to cry. Remus stood there staring for a solid minute not moving until he got the urge to crack Virgil’s skull open down.

He went over and picked up Patton who looked at him surprised. “Wat doin?”

“You need someone to take care of you and if THAT ASSFACE is going to ignore you even if you’re little looks like I’ll pick up the slack.” Remus said yelling at Virgil’s door. He got a few steps away before Virgil opened the door.

Patton lit up seeing his caregiver. Virgil glared at him. “Who cares if he needs someone to watch him!” Virgil snapped.

“I hate to be responsible but you don’t blame a little for their big mistakes.” Remus said shifting so Patton was further away from Virgil as Patton peeked up scared of his caregiver.

Virgil snorted before looking at Patton again who burst out crying and hid his face. Hid from him. Virgil’s anger died but before he could step forward or say anything Remus took off with Patton.

---

Remus kicked open the door to Janus’ room and plopped Patton down on the bed. Janus looked up from where he was reading in the corner. “Oh..you brought a guest.”

Patton waved with one hand and dried his tears with his cat plush in the other. “Hi.”

“Guess fucking what?” Remus said pissed. Janus sighed and closed his book.

“Please don’t tell me that you-”

“They are IGNORING LITTLE HIM.” Remus said without letting Janus speak.

Janus stood up. “What?”

“He was knocking on their doors, Roman didn’t even answer and V-douche-”

“Child.” Janus reminded him before Remus could go further. Remus looked at Patton who was confusion and more than a little upset.

“Sorry Patty cake I’m not mad at you.” Remus said softly he and Janus sat down on either side of him on the bed.

“Yous not?” Patton whispered.

Janus offered him a hug, Patton crawled into his lap. “Of course not. We would never be mad at little you.” Janus promised.

Patton looked down the the stuffed cat. “Mm caregives are. They ate me now.”

“They don’t hate you.” Janus lied.

“Jan..” Remus said looking at him. Janus sighed.

“They hate you a little bit. BUT they will get over it.” Janus said.

“Hope so.” Patton hugged the cat so tightly it’s head would have popped off if it had been real.

Remus wanted to go smack the heck out of them for this. Janus put a hand on Remus’ shoulder and gave him a look.

Remus nodded. Later.

For now it was time to take care of Patton.

---

Roman and Virgil were waiting for Patton when Remus was taking him back to his room for bedtime. Patton lit up when he saw them before slumping and half hiding behind Remus.

Roman took a breath. “Patton...It’s been unfair of us to treat little you so harshly while big you was the one to cause the problems.” Patton looked hopeful.

“But we can’t handle being around you right now.” Virgil said. “So until things get resolved….we aren’t your caregivers anymore.”

Patton had tears pooling in his eyes. “Ok.” He whispered sniffling. Remus held onto Patton, and watched as Roman and Virgil left.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Remus said taking Patton into his bedroom.

Patton crawled in bed and curled up still silently crying. Remus laid down next to him and pulled him against his side. “When Virgil left I felt awful. I kept hoping that he would come back and things would be normal again.”

Patton looked at him. Remus sighed, “Sometimes people leave and we can’t change that. I’m sorry.”

Patton patted Remus’ cheek. “It k.” He paused. “Ous leave too?”

Remus hugged him tightly. “No...No I won’t leave too.” Remus promised. “I’ll stick around, can’t get rid of me. And Janus’ be here too.”

“Tank you.” Patton said. “Ous can leave thou. I a bother.”

Remus hugged Patton tighter. “Never a bother. You deserve to be little and have care while being little.” Then Remus groaned. “I’ve spent too much time with Dee.”

Patton giggled. He hugged Remus tightly as he fell asleep. Remus stared at the ceiling for hours afterwards before drifting to sleep as well. As long as he was around, Patton wasn’t going to be abandoned again.

---

Patton was waiting. He was being cared for by Remus and Janus until Ro.an and Virgil wanted him back. He never told them what he was doing but had a feeling everyone knew. Roman and Virgil did let him come back. Only, they were still mad. They didn’t say it out right but would be overly mad at him for being loud or as they said ‘annoying’.

Roman yells at him for being too loud, he runs crying silently to Janus and Remus.

Virgil yells at him for bothering him too much, he stops asking for help, making it harder for Janus and Remus to make him feel better.

They decided to ‘take breaks’ from being his caregiver again. Each break lasts longer and longer until Patton isn’t acting normal ever. Always worried and quiet. He doesn’t make jokes anymore. To check up on people not wanting to be a bother. He doesn’t show up for movie nights anymore, or eat with everyone else in the kitchen.

Remus and Janus are furious.

Janus was rocking Patton to sleep as he was little. He was in the middle of the common room and Hissed as Virgil walked passed without even acknowledging that his little needed help. That he caused him so much stress he was having nightmares. Janus sent a seathing comment, one that Virgil sent him back a glare at but didn't reply.

That morning Patton was regressed and hanging on Roman's arm as Roman walked around barely noticing him. Just speaking to him when he wanted too and Patton beaming excited at being seen. Remus was disgusted by his brother's behavior and that was saying something.

Later he found Patton curled up in his bed staring off silently as he cried. Remus pulled him into his lap and let himself cry himself out before Patton snapped out of his Regression and excused himself with an extremely fake smile. Patton made breakfast the next morning without eating himself. Roman and Virgil didn't say a word about it.

---

Logan was regressing alone. He had wanted to try and get Roman and Virgil watch after him but… Well… after seeing what happened to Patton he couldn't. So he was by himself, timing himself to build lego sets faster when Remus come in looking for Patton.

"You're little?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. Patton is too, he was by earlier. Was crying so I played a little bit too but…" Logan scowled and angrily clicked two pieces together.

"But?" Remus asked.

"Roman yelled at him. Told him to not bug me. We were having fun too!" Logan snapped as he finished the castle set and clicking the timer. He barely beat his time.

Remus hummed. Half a mind to go hunt Roman down, half a need to take care of a lonely little and probably upset one. So he picked up Logan and went in search of patton. He had two littles to cheer up and take care.

He found Patton in his room and Dropped Logan on the bed next to him. Judging from Patton’s gasp and giggle he was still little. Remus tickled him a little before putting his hands on his hips. “Sooo guess I have two little Allll to myself this afternoon!”

“Yeah!” Logan said, almost vibrating with excitement of having two playmates. Patton hugged both of them and broke down crying, startling Remus and causing Remus to gently hug him back.

“It’s ok, We’re here.” Remus soothed and pulled both of them into his lap with a little wiggling. Logan patted Patton’s back, “We can sleep together if you want. This way cuddles!” Logan really wanted cuddles and despite Patton being upset wanted the contact. Besides it would cheer both of them. And that would be for the best he thought Logically, or as logically as anyone in little space could.

“So cookies too?” Logan asked knowing that would excite Patton and cheer him up, Or at least it should.

Patton deflated more and shook his head. “Too gross.”

Remus stared at him. “Cookies aren’t gross.”

“I is. Too fat.” Patton said wiping at his tears. “Vee and Ro says so.”

Logan and Remus froze. Logan hugged Patton tightly before dragging him wordless off the bed and out of the room to go get him so many cookies. (just enough that he didn’t get sick cu that was no fun.) He was climbing up onto the counter before Remus got into the room and rushed over picking him and up ans setting him onto the ground.

“Hey!” Logan protested. Remus ignored him and got the cookies down.

“There you can each have three.” He said opening the lid. They each grabbed three Logan sneaking and Forth for Patton, Remus caught it but Let him do so. Patton needed cheering up and a little crime was good for the brain and spirit, especially cookie crimes.

They nibbled on their cookies in front of the t.v watching Blue’s clues and Dora. Remus kept his comments to the shows to himself. At least the non child friendly ones, yelling out the wrong answers to see the little’s correct him, was too cute to resist.

At bedtime Logan led them through their routine and drug Patton to Bed with him and cuddled him so tightly that he made and small squeak. Remus chuckled at that, and tucked him in. “Stay?” Patton asked, it was the first thing he asked for the whole time. Like Remus was going to turn him down.

“Scoot over.” Was the only warning they got before Remus flopped onto them.

---

Roman went to check on Patton in the morning and found him cuddling with Remus. REMUS! He managed to pull Patton aside and started yelling at him. “He’s the bad guy!” He hissed at him.

“But he helps me.” Patton stood up for Remus feeling sick but not sure why. Maybe it was just because He was being yelled at.

“He’s evil! Do you want Thomas to be evil?” That was a really low blow but Roman’s Pride had been hurt too many times by Patton going to HIS BROTHER instead of him. If Patton could just behave none of this would be a problem.

“I’m not...he’s not evil...I’m not.” Patton said, his voice dropping to a whisper. He hugged himself unsure and dropping onto his little space fast.

Roman crossed his arms and scowled. “You need to stop going to them. Thomas is going to turn out evil if you don’t. I beg you want that.”

“What? No I doesn’t!” Patton teared up. “You’re being mean.”

Roman raised his eyebrows in mock offence. “Are you BLAMING ME? I’m trying to do the right thing! That’s all it is with you isn’t it? Just blame someone else for your mistakes!” Roman pushed Patton’s shoulder none too gently.

Patton burst out crying and ran off, getting half way to Janus before freezing. He..He didn’t want Thomas to be evil. He needed to ask someone about this.

So he went to Virgil.

Virgil was pissed to be woken up and even more so that Roman was pissed off too. Not that he was standing up for Patton just that Roman didn’t seem to stand up for his fellow caregiver. “He’s right you’ve been running off to the wrong people this whole time. Who are your caregivers?”

“You and Ro.” Patton whispered confused and scared that he was getting yelled at.

Virgil nodded and smiled, “That’s right. Good job bud.” Patton smiled happy that Virgil seemed happy.

He would be better, he had to be. He nodded and left to think. He would be better.

---

He started avoid everyone, Scared of Ro and Vee, worried that he was messing up with Re and Jan. Both sides of sides blaming the others for Patton’s behavior turning Patton into a weapon to hurt the others.

Every day seems to be endless arguing between the two sets of caregivers, they argue back and forth. Patton hasn't went back to Janus or Remus at all ever sense his caregivers told him that he could make Thomas evil, and the guilt of avoiding him has been eating him up tremendusly. He wanted to desperatly run off to Remus and Janus, but he knew that his caregivers would yell at him.

Todays fight ended up being the worst one out of the whole week, Janus ending up shouting something that triggered Virgil badly. Roman rebuted loudly shouting stuff like, "This is why you aren't accepted" and "This is why YOU are a bad guy!"

Over the past week, Patton has just been silently breaking down, trying not to get in the way, the last time he tried, Roman shoved him and told him to back off and Virgil snarled at him. Patton didn't know what to do.

Remus was finally over it and finally shouted, "IF YOU ARE SUCH GOOD CAREGIVERS THEN WHY DOESN'T LOGAN EVER COME TO YOU HUH?? YOU MESSED UP WITH PATTON SO HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE THERE EITHER, SUCH GOOOOOOOOD CAREGIVERS"

Patton melts down, he didn't want this, he didn't want everyone to be upset, he ruined everything, now Logi can't even regress around anyone because of him.

Logan noticed the loud noise and went to investigate, finding Patton curled up crying in the corner, hands over his ears as the other four screamed at each other. He was quick to get a shaking Patton out of there and safely to his room dropping as he went. He was in a bit of an older headspace so he was able to get Patton into his bed and rock him until the younger little wasn’t shaking anymore.

“I’m sorry!” They both cried. Patton for feeling like he messed everything up and Logan for not stepping up before in or out of Littlespace. Even if neither of them were to blame the guilt ate at them and apologizing for it make them feel a tiny bit better. Enough that Patton could fall and asleep and Logan remained awake to watch over him.

Meanwhile Remus and Janus noticed that the Little was gone and all four of the Caregivers where in a race to find him before Remus thought to check Logan’s room, Remus and Janus burst in first followed quickly by Roman and Virgil.

Logan held up a finger in his lips glare at him. “He’s asleep.” He whispered fiercely.

Remus and Janus silently went over to the bed while Roman and Virgil left feeling...guilty Thoughts a mess.

Maybe Remus and Janus were right.

What did that make them?

---

Patton woke up to breakfast, one that everyone insisted he eat with them. Logan was still little and much to Patton’s delight was being cared for by Remus and Janus, as well was he was. Remus and Janus took up being His permanent caregiver, Roman and Virgil giving up the role much to Patton’s dismay yet relief.

Things went to a new normal. Patton slowly became more used to being with Remus and Janus. Even with Logan.

He still saw Roman and Virgil around, It was hard but getting easier the more time they were nicer to him. They still had work to do on themselves. Some days they were bitter and ignored him still, those days were hard. But, they would come back later and apologize and that helped some what.

Patton was sitting on Janus’ lap, Logan on Remus’ both with cookies as they watched cartoons.

He felt safe and most importantly, loved.

[heavenunderthemoon]

could we get another jj and daughter fic, maybe one where she has to protect herself and Henry from the unsub and is in jj and will wedding. (set in 7x24)

Per your request! Hope you like it!

“Cheers”- JJ x DAUGHTER! READER

WARNINGS: themes of violence, major fluff at the end

WORDS: 5,671

"Y/n?"

Henry's head shot up from his spot on the floor, his stack of legos momentarily forgotten as he bolted to meet his father at the door, the childlike pitter-patter of his feet enough to make you follow suit.

You followed the sound of his voice, a bit confused as to why Will was home so early. It was one of the rare days he was at work while your mother stayed home- well, she was supposed to stay home. Its had been all of an hour and a half that she had been home before she got called in, leaving you with the responsibility of watching your younger half-brother.

"Will?" You rounded the corner, footsteps immediately coming to a halt as your eyes settled upon a new face, their own eyes lighting up when you came into sight. Their demeanor made you tense. The way Will stood, slightly favoring one side, shoulder dipping as if there was a gravitational pull that only he could feel, a magnet dragging one side of his body to the ground. His eyes flickered between you and Henry and the woman. His orbs were boring into yours, as if sending you a silent message, trying to exude a wave of calmness but there was something underneath that you could see as well, a layer of alarm that made your mouth dry. One of his feet were slightly in front of the other, placing himself before her as if to serve as a barrier between you three.

And the woman. Well, she looked...dangerous. That was the first word you had thought to describe her. Her eyes were sharp, focused, and fixed you with a predatory stare. Her hair was raven black, almost like Emily's, but the comparison stopped there because Emily had never looked so feral. Your hand clamped onto Henry's shoulder, preventing him from going any closer to the woman.

"Oh, she's so beautiful, you never did say how pretty she was." Her voice was just as predatory as the rest of her. It sent shivers down your spine and you could see Will react in the same way. Her body moved, as if to take a step forward and the Lamontagne man matched her steps, earning an amused glance from the woman. Her eyes glided off of you, coming to rest on the small blonde boy by your side and her lips twisted into one of irritation.

"Is he still in diapers? I don't really do those."

Will's face contorted with an emotion you had never quite seen on the man.  Unbridled rage. A horrible twisting feeling in your stomach began to settle, one that you normally faked to get out of your algebra tests, but this one was real. Incredibly real, and when the man turned to you, eyes connecting with your own, you listened when he spoke. "Take Henry to the kitchen, I'll be with you in just a second."

Your mouth opened and closed, about to protest, but when you looked back at the woman, that hungry look still in her eyes, you were turning on your heel, ushering the boy out. - "No."

"Y/n-"

"You're leaving us with her?" Your eyes flickered to the woman standing in the kitchen doorway. You had known something was wrong the minute Will had walked through the door, his voice shakily calling out your name and now you knew you had been right. Will had slunk back into the kitchen, his side still pulling him to the ground, before attempting to tell you goodbye. Henry sat on the counter where you had placed him, happily munching on a granola bar you had opened for him.

"No, Will, what the hell is going on? Something is..." You looked to the woman again, lowering your voice another octave and turning it into a hushed whisper. "Something is wrong, I can tell, okay? You're lying to me." Perhaps it was because your mother was a profiler or maybe it was the vast amount of time you spent with the man on a daily basis, but you knew it was true. The man was hiding something.

"I can't." And when he said it you knew that was true as well. His shoulders were slumped in defeat, chin turned downwards and you realized you had never seen him look so...afraid. So tired. "I need you two to behave, okay? Do whatever she says and wait for Mom to come home." His eyes were staring into yours again, pleading you, begging you, to listen and that twisting feeling in your stomach hit once more.

"I-I don't understand." Your voice was breathy, hands beginning to shake, but for the sake of Henry you were keeping it together, holding yourself together with tape and glue because he was a child and while you were still a child too, you didn't get to be one. Not right now. Not with the woman standing in the doorway, that sinister smile dancing upon her lips.

Will nodded, eyes downtrodden. A hand reached out to squeeze your shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry." He took another moment before shaking once more. "I love you, you know? I know I'm not your real father-"

"Will." You tried, tears beginning to threaten to leave your eyes.

"But you're my daughter. You're just as much mine as Henry is." He continued.

And now the tears were spilling over. You remembered when you had first met the man, how JJ had teased him about how nervous he had been. He had shaken your hand, his large hand practically consuming yours. How he had laughed when you had fixed him with narrowed eyes and a stern scowl, something that had looked ridiculous on a child so small, but he had listened all the same when you asked him 'What are your intentions with my mother?'. How, after that initial meeting, he had started to come around more often, burrowing himself into you and your mother's daily routines. Suddenly, he was pouring you cereal in the mornings, or appearing at soccer games, rowdily yelling whenever you received a yellow card. How his things began to appear in the small house your mother and you had lived in at the time, small things at first- like, a razor, or a toothbrush- and then big things- like, his old boombox that he used whenever he was in the garage, or the horde of healthy food he brought with him (because your mother and you would sustain yourself on junk if you could and you had until he showed up.).

You remembered all those things and now they were flashing before your eyes because what he was saying, how he was looking at you, made it feel like he was saying goodbye and you while you had lived in a world without William Lamontagne Jr. before, you couldn't quite picture doing it again.

"Please, don't leave us." And the words that you were pleading him with had a double meaning because god be damned if he left that threshold let alone the world.

Will didn't say anything, pulling you into a warm embrace, and you melted into it. "I love you too." You murmured against his shoulder, and he nodded, pulling back to place a hand on your cheek, staring into your face as if to blaze it into his mind, before he was turning to Henry.

"Daddy, let's play!" The boy's arms extended and his father took the cue to lift him off the counter's ledge, placing him gently on the floor.

"Daddy can't play right now, I gotta go to work. But, this is, um-"

"Izzy." The woman readily provided, stalking into the kitchen. She came to a halt next to you, her hand coming to rest on the small on your back and you fought back a repulsed snarl.

"Izzy. Can you say hi to Izzy?"

The boy didn't seem to understand the tension, something you were grateful for. "Hi, Izzy!"

"She's going to stay with you both until Mama comes home, okay?"

Henry's blonde hair moved as his head nodded. "Okay."

"Hey. I love you." Will's voice broke a little as the exchanged their goodbyes, ending in an embrace all too similar to the one you had received and you but your lip, steeling your face. You didn't know what the situation was or what the future held, but you knew one thing. You knew that every time Will's eyes filled with hurt, the woman's lips quirked in satisfaction. She took pleasure in other people's pain, and you weren't going to fuel her anymore than she needed. He told you to wait for your mother to come home.

And that was exactly what you were going to do.

-

Your fingers twirled a crayon between them, leg shaking underneath the dining room table you and your brother were stationed at. His eyebrows were furrowed, concentrating on the scribbles before him. You looked down to your own paper.

Blank.

How were you supposed to concentrate when Will was out there doing God knows what? Or with this woman- Izzy, if that was her real name- under the same roof. You didn't trust her, choosing not to turn your back on her the minute Will had left the house.

It was strange, you observed, to feel so unsafe in your own house. You hadn't lived there for long, only moving once Henry was born. That tiny little house your mother and you had lived in for so long hadn't been enough, and once news of her pregnancy had broke, the two parents had searched for a new house. You remembered saying goodbye to that house, all the movie nights with just the two Jareau girls, the notches on the wall to indicate height (you would insist to take your mother's height as well even if she had stopped growing long ago), the chips in the paint from when the two of you decided to move furniture by yourself, or the glow in the dark stars that used to hang from your ceiling. It hadn't been a sad goodbye, of course, because now there was a new house.

A new house that held pictures of the three of you- now four, with Henry. A house filled with toys strewn about the living room because the boy always forgot to pick them up, or his drawings strung up on the fridge. A house with a backyard (a cool one, with a tree and everything that you had tried to climb once and never had again because you got stuck and Will had to help you down). A house that was a home.

And all of that was gone in an instant because now it didn't feel like a home. It felt like a lion's den.

"I'm thirsty." Henry turned to you, and you moved to stand before the lioness was moving.

Her hand placed itself firmly on your shoulder, forcing you back into your seat, as she stared at the boy.

"I'm going to get him some water." You tried to mimic the tone your mother used when she was cross with you. The tone that said 'Don't even think about it'. But you must've done a poor job because she was chuckling softly, shaking her head, before turning her attention back to the boy.

Her slender fingers closed around a discarded green crayon, letting it glide across the boy's paper. Slowly, she began to sing, a rendition (a very poor one, in your opinion), of 'Ring Around the Rosie', and Henry was giggling.

"You're silly."

You silently thanked whatever higher power was out there for the sweet, perfectly oblivious boy that was your baby brother.

"Can we play hide-and-seek?"

"In a minute. Come here." She reached to pul the boy onto her lap, and your hand clamped down around his wrist, pulling him into your side on instinct.

"I think he's fine right here, right Hen?" You were already lifting him onto your lap, squeezing him tightly as if to reassure yourself that he was still there. He was your baby brother, your responsibility. Your mother had chided that to you a million times when he was beginning to crawl, or walk, or run. You were the older sister, the last contingency, the arms to back him when he fell, and you would make damn sure that he never did because he was Henry. The boy who, in his first moments in this world, had clenched his tiny fist around your finger and never let go. The boy whose first words had been a butchered rendition of your name (a nickname your mother still tortured you with), the boy whose first thought in the morning was to run into your room, jumping onto your sleeping figure until you were awake.

Izzy's withering stare was enough to make you feel sick, but you clenched on tighter and she, reluctantly, settled back into her seat.

"My grandfather's name was Henry. He had blonde hair just like you."

"I bet he was as psychotic as you." You said through gritted teeth, and your words only seemed to make her smile, egging her on.

"He was a scary man, yes."

"Why?" Henry's tiny voice whispered, and she clasped her hand's together.

"Let me tell you a story."

-

The legos on the table clashed together, a misshapen attempt at a spaceship (though you would never call it that to Henry's face, even if he didn't know what misshapen meant), taking place before you. Every so often, the boy would hold his hand out, allowing you to place another building block into his tiny palm before he decided where it went. The sound of a glass hitting the table to your right sounded and you glanced at it briefly, a cup of water for the boy.

Izzy turned, heading to the window and as Henry reached for the glass you shook your head at him. "Don't drink that."

The blonde's eyebrows scrunched, but before he could question it, his eyes were turning to something behind you and you felt a hand clamp around your mouth. You almost screamed, heart quickening, when a wisp of blonde hair fell into your eyeline and you relaxed, turning to meet your mother's gaze. Her eyes were frantic, movements swift and you saw the tiniest bit of relief before she held a finger to her lips, ushering the two of you into the hall closet quietly.

Henry was the perfect size for it, the small boy able to stand in it without his head grazing the coats hanging on the shelves but you had to hunch your back, bending your knees slightly.

"Stay here, don't come out till I say it's okay."

The FBI logo painted across her chest made your eyes widen, her hands reaching for her gun as she turned. "Woah, wait, Mom, are you gonna be okay?" Your voice hissed out your own whisper.

Your hand held her arm, tightly, enough to make her pause in her motions because before that, before your touch, she had been lost, swallowed whole in the sea of thoughts that was her worry for her children. Her worry for her son, the small boy who still hated baths and needed a nightlight, and you, a girl who had grown right alongside her, all through college, through her FBI training, through her media liaison days, and now as she was a profiler. Children who were in danger because of her.

Her bright blue orbs met yours and they softened because, as much as you would attest that you hid it well, she could see the fear that painted your face. It showed in your flared nostrils, clenched jaw, and shaking hands. "I'll be fine." She tried, but the firmness in her face never left and it was something that you weren't accustomed to. Today had been a whole lot of that- seeing things you weren't accustomed to. Will, afraid, your mother terrified, and both fighting tooth and nail for you and Henry to be okay (well, as okay as you could be shoved in a coat closet).

Still noticing concern, she gently took your hand from her arm, placing a quick maternal kiss to your cheek. You tried not to think about what she was going to do, tried not to think about the hand still on her gun, the bulletproof vest on her chest. You tried to think about this like Hide-and-seek, a fun little game on your mother's day off.

"I'll be fine." She said one last time, a whisper that haunted your ears after she  closed the door. It haunted you as the yells began, screams of rage, shouts of fury, clashes, clangs, and everything in between. You grabbed Henry, pulling him into you and covering his ears as best as you could. His small hands wound their way around your shirt and even if it was your favorite (a band t-shirt that Will had gotten you and that your mother absolutely hated), you let him. His whimpers were muffled from your shirt and you shushed him softly, cooing into his ear.

"Shh, you're okay. We're okay." And you weren't sure if you were talking to him or yourself at that point.

You could hear your mother yell, a subsequent, loud 'BANG' like a glass shattering being heard and you held your breath, hearing nothing but silence after. Henry's breathing was shallow, and you strained your ears to hear anything, anything at all. You wanted to hear your mother yell, or cry, or tell you to come out, something to tell you she was okay. But nothing came.

The door of the closet was grated, small slits in the wood that were used for insulation purposes but now served to allow you to look out into the hallway and when you did you wished you hadn't. Your mother lay on the floor, the ground around her littered with broken glass- a vase, ceramic, one you had made in fourth grade (It was bumpy, sloppily painted, and had a very crude carving of your initials on the bottom) and your mother had kept all these years. You had called her a hoarder, but she called it being sentimental. From the shards that rained down upon her, and the small puddle of blood leading from her head to the floor, you assumed she had been struck down with it.

Her blonde hair was becoming stained with the scarlet liquid, body moving slowly, but surely to get up, but none of it mattered because your vision was blocked another figure moving towards your mother, a gun trained on her back and before you knew it you were moving. The closet door was thrown open, and you shut it behind you, making sure to keep Henry concealed. The sound startled Izzy, but you didn't hesitate to throw your body toward her, using all your weight to tackle her to the floor. You both landed with a 'THUD', and you groaned. The gun previously in her hand clattered to your left, but before you could make a grab for it, the brunette moved much quicker than you did after the initial shock. Her fist rained upon your cheek and you shrieked, taking the hits as you kicked at her body and twisted to try and grab the weapon.

You could see your mother standing, getting a second wind as she laid her eyes upon you, and her eyes flared with so much fury that you stopped your mad grabs for the weapon, staring up at the woman above you. Despite the pain in your nose, the feeling of blood dripping down your face, or the eye that was threatening to shut due to swelling, you smiled. Blood stained your teeth when you did, almost making you look animalistic and when you spoke, Izzy hardly had time to react.

"You lose."

The brunette's eyebrows furrowed before she was pulled up by her hair, your mother delivering a swift roundhouse kick that rendered the woman unconscious. The last thing you saw before you passed out was the panicked figure of your mother, pleading you to stay awake before you surrendered yourself to the abyss.

-

You woke up in an ambulance bay, eyes(or, eye)  fluttering open to greet the scene before you. It was moving. That much you could feel. There was a metallic taste in your mouth that made you believe the paramedics had given you some kind of painkiller and glancing down to your arm and finding a large I.V. needle confirmed your theory. The metal walls were lined with medical supplies that tipped and toddled at every bump in the road. Paramedics, two, sat on your left, fidgeting with your cuts, rubbing something on them that you couldn't even feel. Antiseptic? Your mind tried to catch up with your surroundings.

A hand squeezed your left forearm, the grip familiar and unrelenting and you allowed it to pull you out of your hazy memories, the foggy remembrance of blows to your face. Looking in the direction of the squeeze you saw your mother, teary-eyed and red-faced. She was clutching Henry, sat upon her lap with his head burrowed into her neck, but fine all the same. Your mother looked fine as well, apart from the tiny cut on her forehead, already covered with gauze and medical tape. Knowing your mother she had probably refused medical treatment until she knew you would be okay. Her maternal instincts always did make her a little irrational sometimes (you would never say that aloud to her).

"Y/N? Y/N? She's awake! Y/n, can you say something? Y/n?" The paramedics were coming to hover over you now, a flashlight being shined in your good eye while they physically opened the other. Her grip was tightening and you licked your lips, trying your best to nod to let your mother know you were okay.

She had been a wreck when you were five and crashed your bike. That had been a small cut on your knee. Or when you fell off the monkey bars when you were eight. A scratched elbow. Now, sitting in the back of an ambulance bay after getting the crap beaten out of you, you thought she might just implode.

"Ouch."

She laughed. A breathy, tear filled laugh, but a laugh all the same, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Oh my god. You're okay?" She turned to the paramedics, of whom were now scribbling into a chart. "She's okay?" When receiving a nod, she turned back, though now her eyes were narrowed, that watery smile gone. "What part of stay here until I say-"

"You were hurt-"

"I was fine, I had it handled, and then you come out of nowhere-"

"She had a gun to your back-"

"And you're hurt! Oh my god, look at you-"

You fixed her with as sarcastic of a smile as you could, but you were sure it just looked wrong on your face now. "Gee, thanks, Mom."

She huffed, letting a hand come down softly upon your cheek to cradle it. You held in a wince, knowing it would make the situation worse.

JJ stared at you for a long moment, feeling the motions of the ambulance as they moved. Her daughter, her first baby, her child, her best friend. The girl she shared clothes with, the two of you constantly stealing each other's jeans and sweaters and claiming you hadn't. The girl she ordered far too much takeout with every Friday (you were trying to go through the entire Chinese takeout menu and the two of you were halfway there). The girl who made her coffee in the mornings, or shared her love of cherry pie, or watched too many romantic comedy movies to count. Her first baby, who still liked to go trick-or-treating because 'is there really an age limit?'. She was lying in that ambulance bay, beaten and bruised and getting gauze placed on her swollen eye, all because of her work.

The thought made her sick.

Noticing the far-off look in her eyes, you rose a hand, letting it rest on the one that sat upon your cheek. "Hey, I'm okay."

JJ stared a moment longer, not quite convinced, before she let out a long sigh, nodding softly. A small smile tugged at her lips and she dipped her head toward the medical supplies covering your swollen eye. "You look like Patchy the Pirate.

"Shut up."

-

You hated hospitals. They smelled like antiseptic and blood and made your head spin. The medics had cleared you five minutes ago, allowing you to leave with the promise to take the prescribed medications they had given you. Rossi had stayed with you while your mother had gone to check on Will. Now, Rossi walked you to the hospital room he was stationed in (Rossi had also informed you he had been shot, of which you had responded by quickening your pace, practically running to the room). The man's eyes twinkled when he mentioned your father, almost as if he knew something you didn't but you hardly focused on anything else, your mind consumed in the fact that Will was shot.

Seeing the open door, you didn't hesitate, running in. Your mother was standing by the bed, Henry at her side. Will was awake, an abandoned shoulder sling in his lap. You lunged at him, body covering his as you clutched him tightly.

"Woah!" The man chuckled, despite his shock at the small teenager flinging herself toward him, and hugged you back, his hand coming to cup your head.

"You were shot." You said, not quite letting go, and you could feel the man nod softly.

"I was."

You pulled away and now it was Will's turn to worry. The swelling had gone down with your time at the hospital. It wasn't gone completely, and the bruising was still prominent, but at least your mother couldn't call you 'Patchy' again. His fingers brushed against the bandage on the crest of your cheek, eyes scanning your face.

"You should see the other guy." You joked quietly, and he chuckled sadly, shaking his head.

"That's my girl."

You beamed.

Will's eyes flickered to your mother and then back to you, and you narrowed your eyes at the two of them, noticing that same twinkle that Rossi had when he brought you back over. "What? What is it?"

The two shared another look, before your mother was moving forward, grasping your hand in hers. Her eyes looked into your, letting you know it was a serious conversation, before she was speaking. "I haven't agreed to anything yet, because I want to know what you think, because what you think is important to me, and whatever you say I won't be mad, I promise-"

Your lips turned upward, settling into a smirk as you glanced at Will. "Did you finally pop the question?"

The Jareau woman's lips parted, face contorting with confusion. "Wait, she kn-"

You cut off Will's nodding, your smirk widening into a lazy grin. "Mom, he asked me for permission two weeks after he moved in- four years ago. I'm just surprised it's taken him so long." Amusement flooded your tone and it made your mother scoff, playfully hitting the Lamontagne man on his good shoulder.

"Hey! I was waiting for the right moment." He defended, and you shook your head.

"Right, 'cause in order for it to be the right moment, I have to look like Igor?" You snorted.

Your mother rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "So, I'm taking that as a yes."

You nodded, leaning into her shoulder. "Yes, it's a yes."  

The two whooped, making you shake your head in embarrassment, catching the curious glances form the nurses stand you four were receiving. Henry, unaware as to the cause of celebration, joined along simply for the fun of yelling. You sighed, shrugging your shoulders before joining in.

-

A surprise wedding.

Well, not a surprise to you (Penelope cannot keep a secret to save her life), but a surprise to your mother all the same.

"There's gonna be a boy in the house." The blonde flurried around the guest bedroom, one of many in his large, large mansion, getting herself ready for an impromptu wedding. Her motions were erratic, dropping earrings, lipgloss tubes, and she only had one heel on.

Her statement made you snort in amusement. "There's already a boy in the house. Two of them, if I'm counting correctly."

She turned, her dress only half-way zipped up, pleading you to go along with her statement.

You sighed. "Okay, so there will be a boy in the house." You repeated with a huff.  "So what? We like boys, right? Otherwise you're gonna have to cancel the event going on downstairs-"

"Y/n!" Despite the interruption, she laughed, a small bit of tension seemingly relieved. You smiled, aching your goal. With a sigh you stood, motioning for her to turn around as you both stood before the full-length mirror in the corner. Just by looking at it, you knew it was expensive. The handles were ornate, delicate engravings of rose petals and forest branches decorating the sides of it, the glass clear as day. Your mother obeyed, turning to her reflection and watching your motions in it.

You fingers gripped the zipper, tugging it gently until it was closed. "Look, if you want to bail on this wedding, we can. I will hotwire a car, pull it around front, and we'll do the whole 'screeching tires' bit and peel off into the sunset. But I know that that's not what you want." You reached up, placing the last pins in her hair.

"It isn't?" The blonde inquired, and by the pace at which her chest was rising and falling you could tell she was calming down, just the sound of your voice enough to make her do so.

"Nope. You want to go down there and marry him, not because he's the father of your child, but because it's Will. Will, the guy who makes us fantastic eggs in the morning that we can never quite replicate."

She nodded "They are good eggs."

You smiled. "And because he listens to you, and to me, and to Henry. You deserve the world, Mom, and he can give it to you." You slung an arm around her shoulder, resting your head against hers. "And his accent isn't too bad."

She laughed, it being contagious enough to spread to you. After the chuckles settled, she sighed, staring at the bandage on your cheek once more. She hadn't quite taken her eyes off of it all night.

"You scared me tonight." She said softly, and just like that her smile was gone. You stared back at her in the mirror. Standing next to her, under the roof of her millionaire coworker, you could see the similarities that people so often pointed out. After the growth spurt you had experienced last year, the two of you were practically the same height, you were probably an inch taller. Your eyes held that same hue of blue that made it look like a small oceanic whirlpool waiting to suck you under. And your golden hair glinted in the moonlight filtering in from the open window. You were a splitting image of her.

You nodded solemnly. "I know."

That answer didn't seem to be what she wanted. "She could've killed you."

"She was going to kill you. Her gun was raised," Your mother opened her mouth to speak, but you sighed. "You had her, I know."

JJ's cupped your head, patting it gently. Just as similar as you two were in looks, you were similar in actions. The Jareau woman protected her family at all costs, and you had just proved that you would do the same.

"I love you, kid."

You smiled. "I love you, too." You turned to face her, cupping her cheeks in your hand. "Now, put on your big girl pants, we have a wedding to attend."

-

The wedding was beautiful. You had spent the ceremony next to Penelope, the woman a blubbering mess the entire time. You weren't sure how a person so small could have that many tears, but she did, and you stood corrected.

The sound of the fork clinking against the glass made the guests turn their attention to you, and your hand clenched the cup a little tighter before you could lose your nerve. Your eyes found your mother's, her and Will at the table over, and your shoulders relaxed, the tightness in your chest dissipating.

"For the longest time, it was just my Mom and I. My Mom worked hard to make sure that I had everything I could ever possibly need, and did so without question. She's my best friend, my lifeline, and my biggest supporter, and I thought that, as long as I had her, I wouldn't need anyone else, but when I met Will, I changed my mind. Will, earlier today you said something to me that I've been thinking about. You said to me that you may not be my real father, but I am your daughter, and you loved me all the same." Your eyes turned to Will and you swallowed. "Before I met you, I had never given anyone a Father's Day card. Well, I got one for mom, but I always crossed out 'father' and put 'mother' and I didn't have to do that anymore. I had never gone to a Daddy-Daughter dance, something I definitely owe you for, because the amount of times I stepped on your toes is obscene. What I'm trying to say, is that you aren't just a fill in father for me, Will. You're my dad, as real as you can get. I love you both so much, and I'm so happy that I get to be a part of this family." You raised your glass, the other patrons following suit. Your mother had a watery smile- something you would definitely tease her about later. "Take care of my girl, 'cause I know where you live. Cheers."

"Cheers!"