#this is the first time I did animation with sound

[elliee3e]

‘primal needs’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ logan howlett x f! reader

thinking about logan in heat/with ruts x reader who’s ovulating … ohhh my god !!

content warnings ;

piv, size difference, heat/ruts, dubious consent but it’s very slight okay mentions of breeding kink but not really ?? it’s just cumming inside but it’s implied guys

author’s note ;

guys, i’m going through a slight writer’s block urgh . but it’s christmas & so i came up with this little idea !! merry christmas to everyone & hopefully i can also get something out before or shortly after new years <33 MWAH!

the air between you two is thick and heavy as logan’s cock stretches you to the hilt like nothing else.

the sloppy mess and smell of pure, primal driven need also clings to the air — as well as the lewd, squelching sounds of him pounding into you: pulling delicious moans from both your bodies.

even after going like this for more times than you can count, both you and logan are anything but tired. and the reason for that?

logan’s in heat. all you could feel all week was him pressing up against you, whether from behind or in front, anywhere, anytime — just trying to get some friction. and as much as it pained you to shove him away each and every time, you didn’t want to risk anything in public.

however when he gets you to himself in his room, you two are all over eachother like rabid animals. he’s biting at your neck, big hands pulling at your clothes and nearly tearing them apart; not that you cared — all you wanted was to get dicked down, as your sex drive had spiked all week too.

and logan could tell. his already heightened senses only peaked when he was in heat: causing him to sniff you out from far away even, the sweet scent of your pussy dripping for him was enough to drive him to find you no matter where you were. and when he did, best believe he’ll drag you somewhere just to toy with your pussy.

“ah, look at her. always a sloppy mess for me, ain’ she?” he’d tease, lips hovering right over your neck as his hand had started to make it’s descent to slip into your panties, fingers already dragging lazy circles over your clit.

it was always a messy combination.

even in the mornings, when logan would wake up first, he’d notice you still asleep and slot his knee between your thighs and up your little short nightdress — nudging you awake by rubbing his knee against your clit through your already damp panties. by the time you’d wake up, you’d feel his warm cock already pressing against your folds, wake up to the sight of him on top of you, his arms pressed on either side of your pillow. “this okay, doll? m’ sorry, i couldn’t wait..” he’d grunt, voice still rough and tired, but you nodded in silent agreement — needing this just as much as him and feeling as he then sunk his cock into your wet, eager walls no problem — a groan leaving both him and you.

when you would wake up first, it was a little different, as you’d find yourself spreading your thighs to get onto his with a little whine. you rocked your hips against his thigh needily, awaking the man easily. he’d wake up to feel your heat rubbing up against his thigh.

“mm.. well look at my pretty princess, grindin’ like a lil puppy all over me—..” his tired voice would finally speak up as he registered the situation in his mind, his cock already starting to strain against his boxers. it made you whine for more, as his big hand shamelessly pulled your hand onto him to palm his cock — the beginning of a morning you two knew would last all afternoon.

and when i mean anytime, anywhere, i mean it. the man’s practically a dog, a dog in heat if you may. he’s absolutely rabid when in heat and will look for any excuse to get you someplace private just to get some release.

sometimes, you feel like you can barely keep up, with the way he’s manhandling you and shifting your position so he can get the best friction on his cock — for example, you could be on your back and this man, with his godforsaken huge hands, will shamelessly turn you onto your stomach and hold your head down against the pillow, slipping into your sweet pussy from behind to slam his cock against that spot he knows has you seeing stars, from the way your words turn into jumbled whines and moans.

and from that, he could also easily turn you back over into a mating press. his favorite. he’d most likely be like that for a while, until he empties his cum into you and has you doing the same all over his cock, before sitting back and starting to pull you onto his lap to ride him for another orgasm, a repeat of all week all over again.

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[himasgod]

Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?"

"More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals."

"I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him."

"Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?"

"I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out."

"You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again."

"It suits you, by the way."

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?"

"Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known."

"I'm not like everyone else ."

"That's what everyone says."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Just… stay here."

"I'm always here."

"I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?"

"What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden!."

"What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help."

"Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward."

"Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…"

"I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that"

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels.

If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!"

"I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking."

"Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?"

"That would be unrealistic."

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?"

"Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining."

"I don't make them weird!"

"Of course not"

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted."

"It's just light refracted off water particles."

"You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too."

"Maybe a little"

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?"

"A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking."

"But you would protect me, wouldn't you?"

"That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

"I told you this was the right path."

"And I told you maps don't lie."

“Then the map is wrong!”

“Or your sense of direction sucks.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’”

“That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

NSFW.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!”

“You’re a walking disaster.”

“Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[emilyprentissluvr]

Three Steps Back (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 6)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Warnings: Typical Criminal minds stuff, mentions of death

Words: 2.8k

Emily could feel the migraine forming behind her eyes. After hours of staring at the same case files, she still couldn't find anything. She let her head drop to her desk, hoping it would just swallow her whole and then spit her out when they made a break in the case.

"...Prentiss," At the sound of her last name, her eyes flitted to the person leaning on her desk.

"Your phone," JJ finished as she pointed to the buzzing device on Emily's desk.

"Oh, right," Emily mumbled as she gave JJ a small smile of appreciation before picking up the phone.  

When she saw Y/n calling her, she returned her phone to her desk. 

"Your mother?" JJ asked as she perched on Emily's desk. 

"I wish," Emily muttered. Then, cursing under her breath as her phone started ringing again.

"Someone worse than your mother? Yikes." JJ said as she tried to discreetly see whoever was calling Emily as the brunette completely shut off her phone.

"You could say that," Emily sighed as she tossed her phone to the back of her desk.

Emily looked up and saw JJ still perched on her desk, giving her the look. Emily hated that look because it meant JJ was about to pry, and she did not want to tell the team that she was talking to a serial killer.

A small part of her knew she should at least tell Hotch, but she couldn't risk him cutting off her only means of communication with Y/n.

"Did you need something, JJ?"

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted coffee, but now I want to know who was calling you," JJ smiled, making herself comfortable on the brunette's desk.

"It's no one," Emily rolled her eyes, "And if you're going out for coffee, I'll take my usual."

"Em, come on, who else other than your mom would make you glare at your phone like that?" JJ inquired, completely ignoring Emily's request about the coffee.

"You want a list?" Emily snarked back.

"Oh! Oh! Was it, Hannah?" JJ asked, even more interested now. 

"Wait, Hannah, as in your ex-girlfriend Hannah is calling you?" Spencer chimed in from his desk across from Emily's. 

"I thought she ghosted you," Derek added from his desk. 

The two women whipped their heads around, not even realizing that Spencer and Derek had been listening to their conversation. The glare Emily shot the younger agent made him wish he'd never spoken in the first place. Derek, on the other hand, was more than amused.

"For the fifth time, Hannah did not ghost me! It was a mutual breakup!" Emily huffed. 

"Whatever you say, princess." Derek smiled, earning him another glare from Emily. 

"The term ghosting became popular in 1990's hip hop- Ow!" Spencer yelped as Emily launched the stuffed animal cat that Penelope bought her right at Spencer's face. 

"I wasn't ghosted! And I'm done talking to you guys!" Emily frowned as she turned her chair back to her desk and ignored the three other agents.

Derek and Spencer chuckled at her antics while JJ rolled her eyes. 

"I'll be back with your coffee, Ms. Grouchy," JJ said as she pushed off Emily's desk, earning a small grumble of gratitude from the brunette.

JJ was halfway to the door when Penelope came full speed through the doors, "BAU Assemble! I've got something!" She yelled, running surprisingly fast in her high heels to the conference room.

"I guess that means no coffee," Emily grumbled as they all made their way to the round table.

As soon as everyone sat down, Penelope turned the TV monitor on and passed out numerous case files.

"In 1991, there was a serial killer that operated in rural Virginia at the same time and place that Alex Painter was murdered," Penelope explained as she pulled up pictures of about 15 women on the TV. They were all of different races but looked around the same age. 

"All of these women were kidnapped, held for a week, and then dumped in the woods. They were all beaten, barely recognizable by the time their bodies were found." Penelope continued, making a point not to look at the crime scene photos.

Rossi looked between the case files and the TV when a spark of recognition came to his eyes, "I remember this. Gideon was the lead profiler on the case. They called the killer The Wood Stalker" 

Back then, the BAU members worked solo, only using each other as consults rather than working on cases as a team. "I helped Gideon build a profile, but he never found the guy." Rossi finished.

"That's right," Penelope agreed, "In March of 1992, The Wood Stalker vanished. And with no leads or suspects, the case went cold."

Emily frowned as she looked over the case. There was something off, but she couldn't put her nose on it, "So how does Alex Painter tie into this? She's not in any of these files."

"Ah, right! Thank you for the segway, my brooding brunette," Penelope said, and no one even batted an eye, used to the technical analyst's ways by now.

"While you guys are the profilers and I am the mere but mighty technical Goddess-"

"Garcia." Hotch intervened, raising an eyebrow to keep the blonde on task.

"Right." Penelope nodded, "I found it odd that Alex Painter wasn't mentioned in any of the files, especially since she matched victimology."

"Why did they rule her out as one of his victims then?" Derek asked as he flipped through the case file. "I mean, we know now that Y/n killed her. But if all I was looking at were these files, I'd agree that The Wood Stalker killed her.  It seems negligent to not even investigate her death."

"That's what I was thinking! And we all know Gideon is very thorough." Penelope said, and a slightly uncomfortable wave washed through the room.

"That's one way to describe him," Spencer muttered as he stared down at the table. 

Rossi was about to say something in his friend's defense, but Hotch shook his head, not wanting to further the conversation.

It had been less than a year since Gideon left without a word, and the team had mostly moved on. But it was still a touchy subject, especially for Spencer. 

"So, who investigated Alex Painter's death then?" JJ asked, and everyone was thankful that she had cut the awkward silence that had fallen around them.

"Well, this is where things get even more odd," Penelope said as she pulled up the picture of Alex's file. "Detective Anthony Scott was the lead on her case. So I did some research on the guy, and to an untrained eye, he seems normal."

"Well, you are far from normal, baby girl." Morgan complimented, and Penelope smiled. "Very true. Anyways, I dug a little deeper and found that Detective Anthony Scott doesn't exist."

"What do you mean he doesn't exist?" Emily asked, a skeptical brow raised.

"I mean that someone very tech-savvy created Anthony Scott. I'm talking bank accounts, birth certificates, marriage licenses, and more." Penelope continued.

"Why would someone go through all of that trouble to cover up who investigated Alex Painter's death?" JJ asked. And once again, the team felt like they were getting into something a lot larger than they were hoping for.

"Could it have been Y/n?" Derek asked.

"Why would she try to cover up something she already told us about?" Emily countered, more defensive than she would have liked, but she would think about that later.

"Yeah, and there's no way Y/n could have created an identity that thorough. There's only a handful of people I know that could do that, but they wouldn't have any reason to." Penelope agreed. 

Emily bit her bottom lip in concentration; she knew what this sounded like. Fake identities that seemed too good to be true. Seemingly unimportant cases swept under the rug...this had CIA written all over it.  And if the CIA was involved, it meant that whatever information they had now was all they were going to find. 

But how on earth did the CIA get connected to all of this?

Maybe she could make a couple of phone calls. Contact some of her old handlers and see if they could find anything pertaining to this case. 

"Why aren't Gideon's notes in here?" Hotch asked, pulling Emily out of her head as she realized she had missed whatever the rest of the team was talking about.

"Well, since it was before I came to the BAU, his notes weren't digitalized. And when I went down to the archives, almost everything about this case was gone." Penelope said regretfully as she took a seat, having no more information to give the team.

"His notes should still be in there, though. The case is still classified." Spencer said, and it affirmed even more to Emily that the CIA or some other agency has something to do with this.

"I feel like there's dead ends everywhere we turn with this case," JJ muttered, and the team silently agreed.

"I know we all feel a little discouraged, but we are further than we were yesterday. I'll call Gideon and have him come in as soon as possible. Hopefully, he can provide us with more information. But for now, let's get back to work," Hotch said quickly before dismissing himself to his office, leaving the team in a little shock. Hotch was never one to give a pep talk, so maybe this was even worse than they imagined.

"I'll give Gideon a call, too," Rossi said as he left for his office, not wanting to see the other agents' reactions. It was an odd situation, the complex feelings he had for his friend were different than those of the younger agents. 

But Gideon was also one of Rossi's oldest friends, and after everything they'd been through, he still had respect and loyalty to him. So, he did not want to hear what the other agents had to say about him.

"Has anyone talked to Gideon recently?" Penelope asked in the conference room, trying to break the ice since the topic of Gideon was now unavoidable.

"Since he left all of us with a note?" Spencer asked sarcastically, a tone that surprised everyone, "No," He continued as he gathered his stuff and practically stormed back to his desk without looking at anyone else.

"I was just..." Penelope trailed off sadly, not having predicted that reaction from the youngest profiler.

"It's not your fault, Pen, it's just a hard subject for him," JJ said as she squeezed Penelope's shoulder.

Emily had stayed relatively quiet on any subject that involved Gideon. She shared vastly different opinions on the older agent than her friends did.

She knew that Gideon didn't like her. In fact, everyone knew, because it wasn't like he tried to hide his disdain. 

Towards the end, he tolerated her, but the way he left and the effect it had on everyone just solidified her dislike of him, not that she would ever voice that aloud.

"I'll go talk to him," Derek said before leaving the room and leaving the three women to themselves.

It was silent for a moment before Emily's phone started to buzz. She sighed and ignored the look JJ sent her as she picked up her phone. 

Y/n (1:34 PM): Call me back tonight. I have a surprise for you.

Emily (1:34 PM): I don't like surprises. 

Emily typed back before pocketing her phone. She heard her phone buzz again, no doubt another text message from Y/n, but she did not want to deal with this right now.

"What was that?" Penelope asked as she motioned her hand towards Emily. 

"What was what?" Emily played dumb with a shrug.

"Don't even try, Pen. She's been like this all day." JJ rolled her eyes.

"Who is causing you to glare at your phone like that?" Penelope pressed, ignoring JJ.

"It's no one," Emily said as she grabbed her case files and started to stand up, not looking at either blonde.

"Emily! Indulge me in something that is not this case!" Penelope begged, always the one to get into people's business.

Emily scoffed, finding it quite ironic that the person she was texting was the reason for this case. "It's a personal matter."

"Even better!" Penelope continued, earning a stifled laugh from JJ. 

She rolled her eyes, knowing that no one was going to give this up any time soon, "Fine, you know what? It is Hannah! Now, can everyone just mind their own business?!"

"Hannah unblocked you?!"

"What? How do you know she blocked me?!" Emily gaped at Penelope and then instantly realized that was a stupid question.

"Never mind. I'm done talking. And stop hacking into my phone!" Emily practically growled before exiting the room, leaving the two blondes wide-eyed.

"Well, we know it's not Hannah," Penelope said, earning her a slap to the shoulder.

"She's going to kill you," JJ said as she gathered her stuff, and Penelope just shrugged it off. Emily had always been all bark and no bite. She was a secret softie once you got to know her.

"Where are you going?" Penelope pouted, not wanting to be left alone.

"I'm going to buy her a coffee before she kills me too."

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

It was after eight by the time Emily unlocked her apartment door. The team had been working nonstop for hours, but it felt like the more they uncovered, the more questions that arose.

Eventually, Hotch sent everyone home, stating that they should just wait for Gideon to tell them everything he knew before jumping to conclusions.

But Hotch and Rossi were having trouble reaching Gideon, and if they couldn't contact him, then this shitstorm of a case was going to take even longer to solve.

So when Emily fell onto her couch, she didn't even have the energy to take off her shoes, let alone cook anything. She stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes before remembering Y/n's text.

She reached for her phone and opened Y/n's text from earlier in the day that she never looked at.

Y/n (1:35 PM): I promise you'll like this one.

Emily sighed as she debated whether or not she should call the younger woman. 

Ultimately, she gave in, knowing, at the very least, Y/n would reveal something new.

She quickly dialed her number before she could talk herself out of it.

"I was wondering when you were going to call," Y/n answered after the third ring, a cocky smile evident in her face.

"It was a long day at work, thanks to you," Emily answered shortly as she sat up fully on the couch, crossing her legs under her.

"To me? So you're thinking about me all day long?" Y/n grinned. Something was going on in the background of wherever Y/n was, but Emily couldn't decipher what it was.

"Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I'm thinking about you is because you've murdered 300 people." Emily scoffed.

"300 men, not people." Y/n corrected. 

"What about Alex Painter? She wasn't a man."

"Really? Is that all you've got on her so far?" Y/n chuckled. 

"Pretty much. And you knew that the information you gave us would only lead to dead ends." Emily remarked. 

"Alls fair in love and war, darling. And besides, I thought the BAU was the best. I have to say, you guys are disappointing me."

"Disappointing you?! That's rich," Emily scoffed and was reminded once again that she was talking to a psychopath.

"It is rich! Because I'm starting to get bored, and you know what happens when I get bored." Y/n started, and Emily heard the sound of a door slam on the younger woman's side of the phone.

"What was that?" Emily asked as she sat up a bit straighter, a knot starting to form in her stomach.

"It's your surprise! Or did you forget why I told you to call me?" Y/n smiled. 

"I told you, I don't like surprises." Emily gritted out as she heard the sound of a scuffle on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, you'll like this one!" Y/n chuckled, and then Emily heard the sound of a gunshot. 

"Y/n!" Emily gaped as she stood up, hoping this wasn't what she thought it was.

"His name is Howard Barnes. Oh, wait! My bad, his name was Howard Barnes." Y/n chuckled.

Emily was frozen for a moment; her usual fast thinking was nowhere to be found. 

"Don't worry, Emily. He's not your gift. He's just some perv that needed to die before he hurt anyone else. Your surprise is on his kitchen counter; I think you'll like it." Y/n smiled as she branded the angel wind behind the dead man's ear.

"I'm going to find you," Emily said, finally out of her frozen state as she shrugged her coat on and grabbed her gun from her safe.

"You have such a way with words," Y/n laughed, "Also, say hello to Gideon for me. And tell him I'm not afraid of the dark anymore." Y/n finished, and with that, she hung up.

Emily paused as she took the words in. 

Y/n knew Gideon? 

So Gideon had to have been involved in Alex Painter's investigation. Further proving that someone wanted this case covered up. 

But why?

Christ, everything is even more confusing now, Emily thought as she dialed Hotch's number.

"Hotch." He answered on the first ring.

"Y/n killed again. We need to figure out where Howard Barnes lived," Emily said quickly, trying not to think about the future conversation she was bound to have with Hotch, explaining all of this.

This was going to be a huge mess.

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I was tagged by the very lovely @demonicfaerie so here is an angry stiles blurb that I dont exactly know what to do with but that I really wanted to get the idea down.

This is based on my headcannon that stiles and Jackson actually have know each other the longest. And that Jackson is the only other person who knows stiles real name.

The pack makes jokes about Stiles, saying that he never really gets angry, sure he gets defensive but never angry. Until the day Jackson calls Stiles by his name.

After the whole kanima disaster, Derek moves forward trying to connect to his betas. Including Jackson. Especially since now that he is a werewolf which shifts the dynamics because technically he’s now Derek’s first beta.

One afternoon during pack training when tensions were raising higher than usual. The pack had devolved into using grunt and growls as form of communication. Snarling with a little to much teeth.

So Stiles, in Stiles fashion begins making sarcastic remarks to try and settle the situation. After Jackson take a hard tumble with fighting Derek, Stiles quips about Jackson still being a fake werewolf. Especially after spending so much time in lizard scales.

Jackson spits blood from his mouth, turns to him, anger rolling in his chest. A self satisfied smirk forming as the words drip from this lips. — you would know all about fake identities, wouldn’t you Mieczyslaw.” — Stiles goes deathly still and the air shifts. Like the moment before lighting strikes.

The pack is immediately on edge. Derek makes his way towards stiles. The hair on the back on his neck standing up, putting his arms out as if he’s trying to calm down a wild animal. The way Stiles chest heaves with exertion like a cornered, feral animal. Derek knows what it’s like to watch a predator prepare to strike.

Derek swears he doesn’t see Stiles move. One second Stiles was standing on his porch steps, body tense like a spring coil about to snap. In the next second Jackson is on the ground with Stiles on top of him and the smell of blood in the air.

Lydia is shrieking for Stiles to get off Jackson. The betas step backwards from the carnage. They want to help but all their instincts are begging them to flee.

And Stiles is screaming, between the sounds of fist hitting flesh, — you don’t get to call me that — Stiles is screaming — I’ll rip your tongue from your fucking mouth. — stiles keeps hitting Jackson — That name belonged to my mother — just repeating over and over again. Stiles is screaming.

It takes Derek and Boyd to pull him off Jackson, even so he fights against their hold. It was surprising to the werewolves, the fact that they were struggling. Stiles was going rabid between them, still screaming — let me go, I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth — and Jackson was still on the ground, not healing, covered in blood.

Derek barks out and order to get Jackson to Deaton or Melissa or both as fast as possible. Boyd slowly releases Stiles just in case he’s needed to grab him again. The minute the hold on him slacks fighting is throwing himself towards Jackson again. Derek barely catches him.

While the betas clear out, Derek throws stiles over his shoulder. Stiles still fighting against his hold. It’s only as Derek steps into his bedroom and sets Stiles on his bed, does he calm down. It’s like all the fight drains from his body.

Instead panic takes its place. Stiles fights to breathe with the same vengeance as he did Jackson. Clumps of broken sentences echo out between his sobs — not his, not his, nothis, nothisnothisnothisno — the more panicked he gets, the faster it comes out.

Derek holds him until the panic subsides and a there nothing left but silence.

The pack doesn’t mention Stiles’ breakdown the next day, or the next. And Stiles likes pretends like nothing happened. Everyone else would to, except for the fact that Jackson is barely healing, healing slower than a healthy human would. Stiles smile is a tad bit to tight and the pack is a tad bit too cautious of him.

They also don’t mention the fact that the bruises only go away after Jackson apologizes. Even so they don’t really make jokes anymore.

[olailamajnoon]

There was a cockatoo in the Batcave, squawking "Justice!" in Bruce's voice at regular intervals.

Alfred: So the bird is now picking up new words, Master Bruce. I beg leave to ask—when did you think teaching Maurice to speak would add to his charm?

Bruce: I did not teach him to shriek the word "Justice". I would wager anything that was Jason.

Alfred: What possessed you to stuff the poor bird in your cape and carry him away in the first place?

Bruce: Alfred those criminals were plucking out his feathers, I couldn't just leave him there.

Alfred (under his breath): Wringing the poor bird's neck was always an option.

Bruce, pretending not to have heard him: Also Damian has promised he will take care of Maurice.

Alfred: (implacable) Master Damian has his own responsibilities. School, patrol, social events, tending to his already multiplying stock of animals, one of which, might I remind you, is a tiger.

Bruce: Well, I'm sure Maurice can be rehabilitated into a bird sanctuary once he regrows his feathers, possibly with some help from a vet. But until he can fly, is it at all possible for you to...tend to him?

Alfred: With all due respect sir, there are times I distinctly feel like your wife.

Bruce: *sighs* Thank you for that image, Alfred.

Alfred: I shall put on a dress, simply to torment you further.

Bruce: *shutting his eyes* Please don't.

Alfred: Then give me your word this cockatoo is not your next partner. I shall not have a shrill parrot chattering at me in my own home, adding some more color and sound to my rather bland existence.

Maurice, screeching at Alfred's retreating back: Justice!

Bruce, petting the bird: Now's not the time, Maurice.

[heeheesang]

" CAN WE ? " ── .✦

— your boyfriend asks if you want to do a tiktok with him

— pairing : nonidol! wonbin

SIGHING LOUDLY , YOU SLUMPED ON THE COUCH AS YOUR BOYFRIEND LOOKS OVER TO YOU WITH THE REMOTE CONTROLLER IN HIS HAND .

"what's wrong, angel?" he asked as he went closer to you and laid his head on your shoulder.

"i hate watching couples on tiktok... i'm not even angry or jealous but it's so.." you replied and ended off with a sigh. he takes your phone away from your hand and watches the tiktok you had looped on replay.

"oh? wow he's strong." he comments as he scrolled through the audio and comments section.

"do you want to do it?" he asks after watching a few videos as your eyes widened. if it was animated wonbin could've swore he saw sparkles in your eyes.

but your excitement only lasted a while before your face relaxed, "i thought you don't like doing tiktoks..?" you asked as he giggled, "you seem pretty obsessed with this trend... plus, i don't mind. we might even blow up!"

"really..??" you asked with excited eyes once again. you let out the highest pitch of squeals before hugging your boyfriend and tackling him on the couch.

"alright angel, let's do this while my biceps are still rock hard." he joked as you quickly set up your phone stand.

in wonbin's eyes, you were the happiest girl on earth. he loves you so much, to the point where he would do anything and everything for you.

once you were done setting up, "should we test it out first?" you asked as he immediately scooped his arms under your thighs and lifted you onto his shoulder with one arm.

your cheeks were flushed as hell, you were speechless. one hand?? that was super impressive to you. the moment you got down, you hid your face in his chest.

"when did you get this strong, bbinie oh my..." you asked as he giggled and shrugged, pressing the start button as the sound started.

"a guy who's jacked and kind..." the audio started and he lifted you up with one arm, even landing a small kiss to your thighs before smiling widely to the camera.

as soon as the audio stopped, he placed you down and took the phone, the both of you watching intensely before giggling away.

"the audio was right, you are jacked and definitely kind." you mumbled as he landed a kiss on your cheeks, "all for you, angel."

hhs notes! my first riize post hehe, how was it? i got inspiration (@lovhrin) from a writer i saw some time ago!! was struggling between wonbin and sungchan because wow. i could not. pick. goodnight loves!

⟢ permanent taglist

╰┈➤ @hooneverse @sol3chu @yourssincerely-mimi @reikaxslvr @petralovesbonedo @enhabooks @mwahvvis

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

I’m a firm believer that mayhem shouldn’t be clawing at Raph’s face like that in the series, that big teddy bear in red did NOTHING wrong! 

So what if Raph’s s/o has a pet and the cat just loves him?? Like Raph meets his partners cat for the first time and the cat is just like “New friend?? Big tall friend?? New big tall friend!! :D” 

Cat Knows Best (Fluff)

Rise!Raphael x reader

A/N: I’m pretty sure that you are talking about ROTTMNT, as I don’t remember any character or being called Mayhem going wild on Raph’s face, other than in Rise. Anyway, here is a little short and cute one for you. I myself am a big cat lover, so I find this idea adorable. As said before, it’s not very long, but I still hope you’ll enjoy❤️

(C/N) = Cat’s name.

Warnings: None❤️

“Are you sure they’re going to like me?”, Raph asked you, growing ever more nervous as you looked for the key to your front door.

“You sound like you’re about to meet my parents”, you chuckle, finally finish your keys out from the pocket of your jacket, before putting the designated key into the lock. “It’s just my cat, Raph”.

“I know but…”, Raph said, shifting his weight from one foot to another, your large boyfriend nervously playing with his fingers. “You know about the time with Mayhem”.

Of course you knew about what had happened with Mayhem. You had been there, watching how April’s pet had clawed up your boyfriend’s face. How could you forget? You were the one that sat with Raph and cleaned his cuts, making sure he was comfortable.

“I remember what happened with Mayhem, but Raph, (C/N) is not like Mayhem. They’re a cat. Mayhem is… whatever Mayhem is. (C/N) isn’t going to attack you like that”, you told your boyfriend, before pushing the door to your apartment open.

“But what if (C/N) won’t like me”, Raph said, following you into your entrance hall, where you took off your shoes and jackets. “Maybe animals just don't find me very likeable”.

“Raph”, you said with a hand on the door handle to your living room. “This is not to be mean, but you are part animal. So are your brothers and your father, and last time I checked, they seemed to find you very likeable”.

“I meant non mutated animals”, Raph mumbled, before he unsurely followed you into the living room, where you had already started looking for your cat.

It didn’t take long before you found them, cuddled up on your couch taking a nap. Raph noticed the way your face lighted up at the sight of your cat, before slowly making your way over to the couch. Standing nervously in the middle of the room, Raph watched as you sat down on the floor, so that your face was much more on level with your cat. With a soft hand you smoothed it over your cat's fur, causing it to let out a small sound, opening their eyes ever so slightly at you, with the faint sound of purring rumbling from within.

“Hey, babe”, you said in a soft baby voice, smoothing your hand over your cat once again. “Did I wake you up?” Your cat answered by stretching out, before rolling onto their side, exposing their stomach to you, eyes still halfway closed. “Aw, (C/N)”, you cooed, wrapping an arm under your cat, before taking them up in your arms. “I would let you sleep, but I have someone for you to meet”.

Raph found himself growing even more nervous as you turned with your cat in your arms, before making your way towards him. The cat in your arms seemed unbothered, looking at Raph with still half closed eyes, purring much louder than before. Rubbing your car just behind its ear, you presented Raph before them.

“(C/N), this is my boyfriend Raphael. You know, the one I told you about”, you said.

Raph chuckled, finding the way you talked to your cat adorable. “Nice to meet you, (C/N)”, Raph said, playing into the way you were talking to your cat. This seemed to cause you much joy, your cheeks turning a light pink as a smile spread on your lips.

(C/N) suddenly became restless in your arms, jumping from your embrace to the floor, where they landed on their feet, their tail up high in the air. This caused Raph to suck in a breath, staring at your cat with his eyes wide, fearing what (c/N) was about to do. (c/N), with their eyes still half way closed, walked calmly towards Raph’s legs, before they started rubbing the sides of their face against the legs of your boyfriend.

You and Raph looked from the cat to each other, smiling, Raph even letting out a sigh of relief.

“See”, you said, resting your hands on your hips with a satisfied smile. “Told you they would like you”.

As the rest of the day went on, it became clear just how much (C/N) liked your boyfriend. They adored him. As you and Raph cuddled up on the couch in order to watch a movie, (C/N) jumped straight into his lap, enjoying the attention they got from the two of you as you petted them.

During dinner, you and Raph found (C/N) roaming under the table, snuggling up against Raph’s legs at any opportunity. Heck, they even tried to joy Raph in the bathroom when he had to use the toilet.

And as you and Raph were getting ready to call it the night, slowly getting ready for bed with Raph staying the night, (C/N) was right there, ready to cuddle up with the two of you in your bed. And as you laid there, with one of Raph’s strong arms beneath you, your head resting against the chest area of his plastron, you watched (C/N), who had gotten comfortable in the middle of Raph’s plastron, already sleeping soundly, purring louder than ever.

“Told you”, you teased Raph, smiling at him before getting further comfortable against him. Raph only rolled his eyes at you with a smile. There was no point in disputing the fact that you were right. (C/N) liked him.

[j5daigada]

Visiting Japan is something I dream of doing in the future. How was the process of getting tickets, and how long was the trip planned for? I'm worried about concern of payment and not being able to get hotels or take any trains with the lack of Japanese literacy and inability to pay. Another thing I'm worried about is there being an inefficient use of time. Like for example, if there is a moment where I don't know what to do next and just spend the time thinking of what I COULD do instead.

I booked and paid for the plane tickets and the hotel (on booking dot com) a couple months beforehand and could pretty nicely find the more affordable options, so that part went smoothly for me. Something to look out for is that you have your own private room with a private bathroom (no dorms or shared bathrooms, unless you really want, I guess, they're obviously cheaper) and free wifi. If you want to know my hotel, it was Toyoko Inn in Monzen-nakacho.

I mostly used subways in Tokyo, and... I gotta admit that's where I did run into some trouble on the first day, so I could share these things as a heads-up:

The idea I had was using 72h subway tickets that allow you to travel with subways as much as you want during that time frame. The problem was just that the machines that can scan the QR code when you have ordered one were very few and far between, and in Nihonbashi station where I was supposed to transfer, I finally managed to find only a single machine that accepted the QR code. The other ticket machines didn't accept my foreign card (and I hadn't withdrawn cash yet), so I was stuck there for a bit until I found that one machine.

Getting a suica / pasmo card beforehand should prevent running into this problem (my friend had that instead), although as far as I know, it charges you based on how much you travel, so moving around a lot in public transport may end up being more expensive with it.

If you don't know where to go next, the best advice I can give for figuring something out is to pick a random station in your subway map and google "things to do in [that place]." If it gives anything that sounds remotely interesting, head there, check out some of the suggested places, but also just explore and keep your eyes open for anything interesting that you might run into (you know, any kind of "side quest" stuff). If you have any specific interests, you could also check if there are any places in Tokyo that fulfill them, and you could of course also visit somewhere outside Tokyo too, if you're feeling that.

Some places I visited were Akihabara (no surprises, I actually visited this place many times since it has all the anime stuff, and the UDX building had a bunch of great restaurants), Shibuya, Ikebukuro, Shinjuku, Asakusa, Nakako and Ueno. The places I mainly visited were anime/doujin stores, temples, parks, and other attractions like an aquarium and botanical garden. An onsen could also be something to consider.

In the end, I was pretty much just roaming around a lot with my friend and visiting anything that seemed interesting. A lot of the time I didn't even know where to go the next day and we just decided something on the spot. No regrets!

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 07 Chapter 07 | run, little thief⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Some time later, you found yourself sitting in a small clearing deep in the woods, the fire Hermes had snapped into existence crackling softly before you. He'd stopped walking, finally relenting to your repeated groans of exhaustion, though not without his usual dose of smug commentary.

"You do know how to complain," he'd said, plopping down on a mossy rock with his staff across his lap. "It's impressive, really. Almost as impressive as stealing from Apollo."

You'd ignored him, muttering curses under your breath as you sank onto the nearest rotting stump with a grateful sigh. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but you didn't care.

Your legs throbbed, your lungs still burned faintly, and your body ached in places you didn't know existed.

What you hadn't expected, though, was just how far Apollo's reach stretched.

"A thousand miles?" You'd gawked earlier, staring at Hermes like he'd sprouted a second head.

"More or less," he'd said with an exaggerated shrug, clearly enjoying your disbelief. "The stronger the god, the stronger the shrine's influence. Apollo's not just any god—he's one of the Olympians. His shrines practically hum with power. So yes, congratulations! He also probably did hear that cocky little quip you made earlier when drinking from the goblet."

"Great."You'd groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Just what I need—Apollo adding another reason for me to be on his hit list."

"Relax," Hermes had said dismissively, waving his hand as though the wrath of a sun god was no big deal. "That's tomorrow's problem."

Now, the woods had grown quiet again, filled only with the soft crackling of the fire and the distant hum of crickets.

Hermes sat comfortably on his rock, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames as he twirled his staff lazily between his fingers.

You were slouched on the stump, head tilted back as you stared up through the canopy, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

And then, your stomach betrayed you.

It was sharp and sudden, the kind of growl that started as a low gurgle before climbing into an embarrassingly squeaky sound that echoed far louder than it should have.

You froze, heat prickling at the back of your neck as you coughed awkwardly into your fist, hoping—praying—Hermes hadn't heard it.

But of course he had.

The quirk of his eyebrow, paired with the knowing smirk curling at his lips, told you everything you needed to know. "Peckish?" he drawled, his tone laced with amusement.

You scowled, sitting up straighter as you shot him a glare. "It's not my fault I'm human and need to eat," you grumbled, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "Food. Remember? Mortals need that."

Hermes rolled his eyes, an exaggerated sigh escaping him as he spun the staff one last time and let it rest across his knees. "Yes, yes. I remember. Honestly, you mortals and your constant needs—food, sleep, air—so high maintenance."

You scoffed, bristling slightly. "We don't exactly get a choice, you know."

He grinned, standing up in one fluid motion and brushing imaginary dust off his chiton. "Well, fine. If it'll stop you from growling like a feral animal, I suppose I can materialize—"

Before he could finish, the world shifted.

The ground beneath you shuddered, a subtle but unmistakable vibration that made your breath catch. It wasn't like an earthquake—there was no sudden jolt, no violent cracking of earth.

This was... different. Rhythmic, almost. Alive.

You sat up straight, your heart stuttering as you planted your feet on the ground, feeling it tremble faintly beneath your boots.

A soft hum began to resonate through the air, distant at first, but growing louder. It wasn't a sound, not exactly—it was more like a vibration, deep and golden, thrumming through the trees.

"What..." You swallowed, barely recognizing your own voice as your head darted toward Hermes.

Hermes' playful expression had vanished. He stood perfectly still, his golden eyes narrowing as he turned toward the source of the hum—somewhere far off in the woods, though it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

His fingers tightened subtly around the staff, and for the first time, you caught the faintest glimpse of something serious beneath his usual flippancy.

"Well," he sighed, "That's not ideal."

"That's not ideal?" you repeated, your voice rising sharply as you pushed yourself to your feet. "Hermes, what's happening?"

Hermes didn't answer immediately. His gaze darted to the trees, his wings fluttering faintly on his sandals as though they were preparing to lift him at a moment's notice.

The hum grew louder, a pulse of golden energy vibrating through the air, and you swore you could see the faintest glow filtering through the gaps in the canopy.

"And there it is. He found us," Hermes muttered to himself, the words barely audible over the trembling earth. His smirk flickered back into place when he turned to you, but it was thinner now, more like a mask stretched over something sharp. "Remember how I said Apollo might take a while to pick up your scent?"

"...Yeah?" Your voice wavered, nerves prickling across your skin as the hum deepened into something more—a thrumming vibration that you could feel in your bones, rattling in your chest like an unseen heartbeat.

He tilted his head, golden eyes glinting in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "I may have underestimated how quickly he'd notice you'd escaped."

You stared at him, dread pooling like ice in your gut as the earth trembled beneath your boots again. It wasn't just a shudder this time. It felt deliberate, purposeful, like the ground itself was waking up to punish you.

"A-And what does that mean?" you asked, your voice edging toward panic.

Hermes grinned, far too calm for the chaos vibrating through the air. "It means you should probably start running again."

"What—"

Before you could finish, the night sky split open with streaks of gold. Thin lines of light ripped through the darkness, warping the moonlight into twisted, ominous shapes that draped across the forest floor like a warning.

You gasped, stumbling back as a golden hum—deeper and louder now—pulsed through the air, rattling the leaves above like they were caught in a storm.

"What's happening?!" you shouted, your voice cracking.

"Apollo's omens," Hermes said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Before you could question him, a sharp, shrill screech broke through the air. You flinched, whipping your head around just in time to see a black bird—raven, maybe?—launch itself from a nearby branch and vanish into the night sky, its cry ringing in your ears.

Then another. And another. The flock scattered, their wings beating frantically as they disappeared, screeching warnings to anyone who'd listen.

"That's... not normal."

"Oh, it gets better," Hermes muttered, his head tilting as though listening for something.

The ground trembled again, and you noticed it—the laurel trees nearby. Their leaves, green and lush only moments ago, began to weep.

Golden liquid dripped from their branches, thick like honey but glowing faintly with Apollo's divine energy. It splashed onto the forest floor, leaving shimmering puddles behind that lit the woods with a haunting light.

You backed up a step, staring at the golden tears in disbelief. "Is that...? Are the trees crying?"

"Dramatic, isn't he?" Hermes said, shrugging with a smirk, though even he seemed less flippant now.

You turned to Hermes, only for your eyes to snag on something further in the dark—a deer stepping hesitantly from the underbrush. Its movements were jerky, unnatural, like it wasn't entirely in control of its limbs.

The animal stopped just at the edge of the clearing, its eyes locked on you. And those eyes...

You froze.

The deer's gaze was glowing—faintly gold, soft but unnatural, like Apollo himself was staring right through it. It didn't move; it didn't blink. It just watched you.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you jabbed a finger toward it. "What the fuck is that?!" you screeched, your voice pitching higher than you meant as you pointed at the unnerving creature.

Hermes turned to look and barked out a laugh, though it was quieter this time, almost distracted. "Well, now you've done it. You've got Apollo's deer giving you the stink eye."

"What's wrong with it?!" you screeched, stumbling back further toward Hermes as more animals emerged—a rabbit, a fox, even a wolf—each of them stopping to stare at you, their glowing eyes unblinking and too aware.

"Relax," Hermes said, though he was watching the animals now, too. "Apollo's just showing off at this point."

"Showing off?!" you choked, throwing up your hands. "Those things are possessed! You want to tell me what comes next?"

As if on cue, the low golden hum vibrated again, louder this time. The deer let out a low, unnatural noise—half a snort, half a growl—and then turned, vanishing back into the underbrush without a sound, the other animals still watching.

The moment it was gone, you turned to Hermes, eyes wide. "That's it. I'm dead. We're dead. He's hunting me, isn't he?"

Hermes didn't answer right away. Instead, his sharp golden eyes scanned the chaos unfolding around you, and to your complete disbelief, a laugh escaped him—light and melodic, completely at odds with the vibrating hum of danger in the air.

"He's going to be unbearable about this for centuries," Hermes said, grinning as though this were some kind of cosmic joke meant just for him. "You, my little thief, have managed to royally piss off the golden boy himself."

You opened your mouth to retort, to yell, to beg him to stop being so Hermes about this, but then his expression shifted, his head tilting slightly as though listening for something just out of earshot. His grin faded, replaced by an almost thoughtful look as his eyes flicked toward the sky.

"...Welp," he muttered finally, straightening with a sharp breath. "Apparently, it's gotten worse."

"Worse?!" you screeched, panic bubbling up in your chest. "How could this possibly get worse?"

Hermes turned back to you, his smirk returning but tempered now with something sharper—something that made your stomach twist. "Oh, that's easy," he said lightly, as if he were announcing the weather. "Apollo's sent bounty hunters after you."

Your heart plummeted. "Bounty hunters?"

"Divine ones," Hermes said, ticking them off on his fingers as if listing a grocery order. "Mortal ones, too. Maybe a few curses sprinkled in for flair. Apollo isn't above using mortal tools to exact vengeance—makes it all the more entertaining for him."

A strangled sound escaped your throat as your eyes darted nervously. "Curses?! What kind of—" Your words cut off as a shadow shifted in the corner of your vision. The animals that had been watching began creeping closer, their movements slow and deliberate, their glowing gold eyes fixed on you like you were prey.

Your breathing hitched, and you stumbled back, tripping over a root that hadn't been there seconds ago. The forest itself felt alive now, shifting subtly beneath you, its very structure bending to Apollo's wrath.

"Look at them," Hermes said, gesturing toward the animals with a vague wave of his hand. "Aren't they magnificent? He really knows how to put on a show."

You scrambled backward, trying to scoot closer to Hermes, your palms skimming over dirt and roots as you shot him a glare. "This isn't a show!"

"Oh, but it is," Hermes said, his voice dripping with amusement. He spun his staff lazily, the polished wood catching the faint golden glow surrounding you. "Theatrics are Apollo's specialty. Consider yourself the star."

"This isn't a game for me, Hermes!" you snapped, your voice trembling with fury and fear as the animals inched closer, their glowing eyes unblinking. "I could die!"

Hermes crouched slightly, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a smirk that was somehow both infuriating and reassuring. "But you haven't," he said smoothly, his tone softening just enough to take the edge off his words. "Not yet." He straightened, spreading his arms in a grand gesture. "Besides, who wants a boring life? You're living in a story now."

Your nose flared angrily, your chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths. Any retort you might've had caught in your throat as a small, sharp movement near your foot caught your eye.

It was a rabbit.

A scrawny thing, barely the size of a loaf of bread, its fur streaked with dirt and its glowing golden eyes fixed on your leg. It scuttled forward, its movements jerky and unnatural, and your heart seized in your chest.

It was just a rabbit. It shouldn't have scared you.

But the howl of wolves in the distance—low and haunting, cutting through the air like a blade—turned your blood to ice. The rabbit's glowing eyes, the trembling ground, the mournful hum of Apollo's power weaving through the air... none of it felt right.

And you knew. You knew Apollo was controlling it all.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you yanked your leg away from the cursed rabbit, stumbling to your feet. Your heart pounded against your ribs, every instinct screaming at you to move, to do something. But the oppressive weight of Apollo's presence seemed to press down from all sides, trapping you.

"Hermes!" you hissed, spinning toward him, scrambling forward on your tippy toes to grab at the collar of his chiton. "This isn't some story, Hermes! This is my life! And the way things are going, it's going to be the end of the story before I even get to the damn climax!"

You were expecting another smirk, maybe some witty comeback that would make you want to wring his neck. Instead, Hermes froze, his laughter fading as his sharp eyes flicked down to meet yours.

For the first time since this nightmare began, he looked almost... thoughtful.

"Hmm," he hummed softly, his tone strangely curious, as though something had just clicked in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak again, but whatever he was going to say was lost in the sharp whistle of something slicing through the air.

Thwack.

An arrow buried itself into the ground not two feet from where you stood, the shaft still quivering.

You froze, your breath catching as the sharp, metallic scent of blood hit your nose. The tip of the arrow had grazed the bridge of your nose—a thin line of warmth trickled down before you even registered what had happened.

Wide-eyed, your head snapped to the side, your gaze locking on the arrow embedded in the earth. Hermes, on the other hand, hadn't moved. He was still looking at you, an odd, conflicted expression flickering across his face.

"H-Hermes..." you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as if considering something. Before you could demand an explanation, a figure emerged from the golden mist creeping through the trees.

Your stomach twisted violently as the man stepped into view.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his weathered armor scuffed with dirt and streaked with dried blood. A jagged scar ran across his jawline, disappearing into a patchy, grizzled beard. His eyes burned with a dull gold light, glowing faintly under his furrowed brow as he glared directly at you.

The mercenary spit onto the ground, the sound sharp and deliberate as he reached back for another arrow. His movements were slow but precise, the kind that came with years of experience.

Your mouth dropped open, horror spreading across your face. "T-That's... that's one of them, isn't it? The mercenaries?"

Hermes' gaze flicked briefly toward the hunter, but his expression remained frustratingly calm.

"HERMES!" you screeched, throwing yourself into the god's arms without a second thought in blind panic.

His arms came up instinctively, one curling firmly around your waist while the other caught your wrist. His body shook slightly with laughter, his breath brushing against your ear in a warm, uneven rush.

"Oh, you're precious," he said, his voice low and amused. "Guess it's time to run, little thief!"

"Run?!" you managed to shriek, just as the hunter loosed his next arrow.

Hermes didn't wait for you to argue. The moment the arrow buried itself into the spot where you'd been standing seconds ago, he moved, pulling you along with him as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing at all.

Your feet stumbled to keep up as he guided you deeper into the trees, his grip on your waist steady and unyielding.

Why did I ever take that damn stone?! you thought frantically, your heart pounding like a war drum. Why didn't I just stick with the fucking loot I got already?! I'm too young to die! I haven't even eaten anything yet!

Hermes' laughter rang out again, bright and maddening. "Keep up, little thief," he teased, his tone far too light for the chaos closing in around you. "Whether you like it or not, this story's heading for the next chapter!"

A/N: I just know MC is regretting every life decision up until this moment. 😭

[imweirdimjazzy]

Be my first

Pairing: Young Stanford Pines x Female Reader

Description: after a fight with an unexpected gremlin and meeting an interesting man with six finger hands, it had let down to quiet night with a small chat on the rooftop.

Warnings: none! :)

Word count: 1007

A/N: helllooooo! Yes i know…I’ve been gone again. Luckily I have been still writing through classes this semester. I know this isn’t Alastor (which btw yes I have something for him waiting) but I couldn’t help write Stanford pines one. I’ve been big Gravity falls fan since I was nine and I had always had crush on the nerdy man LMAO. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this. it’s a little bit of scrap writing but I try to to make the best out of it!

Important note!: yes I know that Stanley wasn’t there at gravity falls when Ford was doing his research but I couldn’t help with the small sweet idea.

——————————————————————————

“What are you doing up here?”

The voice startled me. Causing me to slip a little before hitting my head on top of the roof of the shack. I somehow found my balance again and turn my head to Stanford behind me.

“Ford?”

“Sorry for scaring you! I just wonder where you were,” He climbed over the edge of the roof and sat by me cautiously, not wanting to get a concussion.

“No, no,” I sigh and grin rubbing my eyes to wake me up. It was almost four in the morning and thoughts were taking a toll on me.

With the day of chasing monsters that I always thought were only created by fictional authors who were bored with reality, were somehow real this whole time.

I knew coming up here in this small town I would eventually be hit with the strange occurrences. Although I assume it is with occasional old people, not meeting a huge gremlin.

“How’s your hands? He didn’t rough you up too hard, right?”

Ford’s eyes were taking a look on my scraped hands that had only brown scabs on some by the healing.

“I’m actually okay, surprisingly.”

“Surprisingly? If anyone was in your position they would’ve died of a heart attack just by looking at that thing.”

“Okay maybe I was a little scared seeing that thing and it’s weird—beady eyes.”

“Trust me there’s a whole lot more just beady eyes around this town,” jested Ford.

I let out a “pfft” sound and raised an eyebrow out of amusement. “What, are there like gnomes living in the forest too?”

Ford stared at me for a second and then narrow his eyes.

“Wait, how did you know there was gnomes here?”

“There’s gnomes too?!”

Ford and I stared at each other for another couple moments until we both started laughing.

We laughed for a solid moment and soon it started hurting our lungs for not breathing enough. It started to calm down and the both of us sat there stargazing for a moment.

“I just can’t believe it,” I said, almost out of breath. “So many creatures, beings or any animal just exist right out there. Waiting to be discovered or heard. Just so much to look after! It’s like even though you could’ve spent years here exploring you’re always gonna find something here to love. All of the old and new together.”

Stanford still had eyes on the sky, though I can feel him glancing from the inner corners to see me.

“Trust me I’ve been only here for two months and I’m still adjusting to all the weirdness here…but it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Amazing? Stanford, I’m jealous of you!” I exclaimed with a smile.

“Jealous?” He repeated.

“Yeah, you get to experience this everyday. Most people are out there with the most mundane and boring office job,” I scoffed. “You, Stanford Pines, don’t even know it.”

His glasses reflected a bright light for a second. Ford cackled and shook his head, with a wide smile. A smile that made me copy it without any try but a single pull on the inside of my chest.

“I suppose I just never thought I would hear someone say that to me.”

“Well, I’m honored to be the first.”

“First, huh.”

Ford twitched for a second and seemed stiff. Even without touching each other I knew there was something that caught him between each deep breath.

I see his six finger hand reach something inside of his tan trench coat. Slipping out a red journal. A trace hand written on with number two.

My curiosity caught me on the net, from there I analyzed the unique journal in his hand. With a small monocular peeking out the corners of the page.

The journal was small yet so big that seem had pages filled with something.

The little something being something I shouldn’t know.

“My six finger hands have always been the lead of my life ever since I could remember. Whether it meant me getting relentlessly bullied for my weird anomaly or it had made me the odd one out everywhere I go.”

The trace six finger hand on the book had stars bouncing off from gold color. Almost mesmerizing for anyone to take a peek.

Ford continues. “I thought I would never find a spot where my hands would seem normal, yet I realize now that after these years of pain, it was here. Meaning my anomaly isn't the only anomaly here.”

His hand out for reach and there it was in between us. Ford seems to be lost for a second until he peers to my hand on my lap.

Raising my hand and taking it near his, he carefully took it. With his fingers brushing the back of my palm and making sure my hand was flat. Placing the journal on my palm.

12 fingers secure on both of my hands.

“In fact,” Ford begans, “I think it would be much of honor if you were the first to read my journal.”

For a moment I felt my heart beat out of its chest but the small stars bounce back to me and the journal. Making it all too real for it to just be dream.

His hands pull away and felt with empty space without warmth, but a warm smile had arrive to my face.

“You really mean it?” I asked.

“I mean it.”

His hands left between the warmth of me and him. It felt empty, but my excitement withdraw me back to the journal in hand.

With lit eyes.

“Ford, the movie is about to play! You better come down!”

“We have burnt popcorn and candy, jellybeans to be exact!”

We both laughed catching the talking from Fiddlford and Stanley.

Stanford carefully got back up and hand out his hand for me.

No words were spoke expect my hand accepting his and both crawling to the attic window.

“We definitely talking about the book once the two fall asleep right?”

“Oh yeah, we will.”

[tsukacchako]

the story of us .ೃ࿐

── izuku midoriya and eijirou kirishima exchange presents ──

characters: izuku midoriya and eijirou kirishima

prompt: presents

The light of the menorah glows bright inside Midoriya’s dorm. The sound of music softly makes its way into Midoriya and Kirishima’s ears. The two are sitting on the floor, holding boxes with bright blue and gold wrapping paper on it.

Kirishima grins widely, his shark-like teeth shining in the dimly lit room. “Are ya ready?”

Midoriya smiles back and nods, holding out his gift for Kirishima to unwrap. “You first.”

Kirishima sets the present he was holding down and takes the one from Midoriya’s arms, practically jumping with excitement. “What’s it gonna be~?” He shakes the box, hearing something thump as it bangs against the sides.

Midoriya laughs, loud and carefree. “Hey you can’t do that! That’s cheating!”

Kirishima laughs as well. “Alright alright! Hmmmm let’s see … What would Mr. Izuku Midoriya give me for Hanukkah?” Midoriya hides his laughter with his palm, giggling at the boy's antics. 

After a few minutes, Kirishima gives up and starts ripping the paper off the box. He then hardens his finger and lightly, careful as to not rip the gift inside, cuts open the box. 

Midoriya fidgets excitedly as he waits for Kirishima to reveal the gift he got him, rocking back and forth on his knees.

Once he finished cutting, Kirishima didn’t hesitate to pull the gift out of its confinement, his hard fingers holding onto something soft. Inside the box was a square pillow with the face of Crimson Riot on it. The pillow was wearing his signature costume, and he was smiling. 

Kirishima gasped loudly. “AW HELL YEAH!!!” He turned it around in his hands, making sure to look at every angle. 

Midoriya smiled. “Do you like it? It’s a Pillow Pet, which means it can be a pillow and a stuffed animal. A two in one! And the company personally collabed with Crimson Riot to make it so it can’t be ripped, it’s hard just like him and-”

Kirishima cut him off from his rambling. “Seriously?! No way! That’s so cool!” He dropped the pillow and practically jumped on Midoriya, hugging him. “This is the best gift ever! So manly! Thank you!” He covered his face in kisses, so overwhelmed with joy.

Midoriya giggled while he did this. “I’m so glad that you like your gift Ei! But don’t forget it’s my turn now.” Kirishima laughed loudly and got off of Midoriya, crawling back over to his spot and handing Midoriya his present.

Midoriya wasted no time ripping the paper off of the box. He then grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut open the cardboard box. 

Kirishima leaned forward in excitement and suspense. “Oooooo what’s it gonna beeeee?” Midoriya snorted. “You’re the one who got it for me, you should know.” Kirishima laughed with him.

After a few seconds, Midoriya finally finished cutting the box. His eyes lit up as he opened the box, revealing the gift. He practically shrieked as he took out a Customized All Might Build-a-Bear, wearing his last costume and signature smile. “OhmyfuckinggodhowCUTEEEEEE!!”

Kirishima smiled lovingly as Midoriya held the stuffed animal to his chest, squeezing it tight. “Take a look at his foot,” he said mischievously.

Midoriya immediately turned the bear upside-down and looked at its feet, a familiar signature written in red on the left foot.

Kirishima grinned wider. “Took a while to figure out, but after finding someone with the quirk to make things stick permanently I can officially declare that that signature will not wash away.”

Now it was Midoriya’s turn to leap into Kirishima’s arms, tears falling down his face as he squeezed him. “This! This is! I! Kirishima!”

Kirishima chuckled and hugged him back, pressing a kiss into his hair. “We both know each other pretty well huh.”

Midoriya chuckled and nodded, still hugging him.

––––– TIME JUMP, 10 YEARS LATER –––––

The light of the menorah glows bright inside Midoriya’s and Kirishima’s room. The sound of music softly makes its way into their ears. The two are sitting on the floor, holding boxes with bright blue and gold wrapping paper on it.

Kirishima grins widely, his shark-like teeth shining in the dimly lit room. “Are ya ready?”

Midoriya smiles back and nods, holding out his gift given by Kirishima. “3. 2. 1.”

The two men tear the paper off and rip open the boxes, revealing their gifts.

In Kirishima’s hand is a square pillow with the face of Red Riot on it. The pillow was wearing his signature costume, and he was smiling. 

In Midoriya’s hand is a Customized Deku Build-a-Bear, wearing his last costume and signature smile.

The two men looked at each other, mirroring the smiles on their gifts.

“We both know each other pretty well huh.”

Midoriya chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

[aakaneeee]

well people. . It's time, aka Akane's monthly revival because there's Luka content. And gosh do I have a lot to say about this. Except.. I'm not going to market these as theories, but as predictions. I think as an og fan I've seen enough to be this confident in my abilities LOL

Quickly, I'd like to address the lyrics and the title, because I will reference it later and I don't want to have to explain mid-prediction.

Wiege has two meanings, and both are so fitting:

1. Cradle. It feels.. perfect, for me. It makes so much sense. Luka was a cold child.. but I'd like to say only physically. I feel like he genuinely warmed up towards Hyuna and Hyunwoo as a child. And I'm going to bring an idea that might get me a bit of backlash but.. I've gotten worse, and that is, that Hyuna is at fault for Luka's approach on his feelings. (Audience boos) From the little we know about Hyunwoo, I feel like Hyuna treated both him and Luka.. at least a little bit similarly. Or at least, Luka couldn't discern a difference, if there was any. Luka is a tube baby, he probably doesn't know (and I am not babying him here, I'd like to add!) what "siblings" he has. For him, affection might just be all and the same. Yes, it wasn't Hyuna's responsibility to teach him, but I feel like a hint was there "Your life is mine", and she could've explained, in a way. But, back to our discussion, Hyuna was Luka's cradle. She burns as bright as the sun, while he's colder. But most importantly, she was his only true friend (Considering I don't think his relationship with Hyunwoo was extremely close, even though they were 'friends'), someone he thought truly cared about him. Hyuna was Luka's cradle, holding him close, comfortable... until at one point, he outgrows that cradle (Hyunwoo's death).

And the second meaning, beginning. In the picture we got, Luka is centered, he's in the middle.. but he's so small, and overshadowed by the tree. Luka is the best performer of the ANAKT, always first, but has no friends. But perhaps, he was better that way. Then, Hyuna comes, and it's a new beginning. He's finally not alone. What I've noticed in the new banner, Luka is missing, but across the tree trunk, in his place, is a taller shadow. Perhaps, a shadow of who Luka was, hopefully still left in there. Or, the other way around, it symbolizes his real self being left there.

And the lyrics:

When I close my eyes,

Play in paradise.

These, to me, remind me of the interview where Luka said his favorite game was hide and seek. In a way, his whole ANAKT life was a game of hide and seek: hiding all the time, but no one trying to seek him. Until Hyuna did, and found him. Something that intrigues me is the "paradise", which to me sounds like what Mizi once said: Dying in competition means returning to the Great Anakt, which I suppose is to them like Heaven.. or Paradise. This will be important later, so remember it.

And now, my predictions for the HyuLuka episode

! First of all, I think the song will be lullaby-like. When I first saw this teaser, with the lyrics, as weird as it sounds, it reminded me of Richard's song in The Hero in TAWOG, a song that always gets me to cry for some reason, and I've been really stuck on that . It would be interesting, because it would fit Luka's voice (as does everything else), but probably not Hyuna's, even though 6FU; would eat it.. which to me, sounds like their "love", where Luka loves her, but it isn't returned. I'd love to see more German in it than just in the title. And considering the nostalgic, pastel, very cutesy artstyle (that reminds me of the memory part from Jordan River animation!), it seems very viable. But the art style is also noisy, which gives an unsettling vibe. It feels like a 2020's dreamcore wallpaper.

I might be crazy, but the hand holding the flower (with only 3 stamens, like the 3 friends) looks dark-skinned, like it would be Hyuna's or Hyunwoo's, but I doubt it would be his, considering it's the account's profile picture. If this is some kind of reference to.. perhaps, an unrequited Hyuluka but the other way around, with Hyuna still not over Luka.. probably won't happen, but God, would that be awesome.

So, how do I think the round will go?

First of all, I have to say, I'm not sure if this will be a round or a Mizisua type episode.😭 I'd say "oh the wait time is way too small" but also... do you guys remember the production announcement of Round 7? Yeah. You can never be sure.

This isn't necessarily a prediction, but more of a suggestion of what could be: It would be SO cool if it would be both.. in a way, merged. This idea just appeared in my mind and I was like OH. MY. GOD. Imagine if almost the whole thing was just them, as children, having fun, a whole backstory.. but then, when Hyunwoo dies, it pans on his face, and then it's back on stage, the loser's face instead of his. It would be so heartwarming, and then DEEPLY DISTURBING and traumatizing. I also really want some Luka and Heperu backstory so I can hate Heperu even more.

On the topic of the loser... It's going to be Luka. I'm an insane Luka lover and it was hard to get accommodated to this idea, but there is no way that he will survive. First of all, the shadow in the account's banner, in place of Luka. It's implications... are quite obvious. Second, the pattern of characters shown in Sweet Dream, and he is next. Third: "In my arms, you would be protected." I feel like Luka would consider the competition "In his arms". I don't think he would break his promise: hear me out for a second. He wouldn't let Hyuna die this way, because I feel like his sense of possession over her also comes with responsibility and protectiveness. And fourth, the Paradise lyric, to me, is a foreshadowing of his death.

I also think he will die by self sacrifice. First of all, there's no way Hyuna could defeat Luka by pure odds. Yes, her stats are better, but lets be honest, her mental power would NOT be as good infront of Luka, and also, the aliens wouldn't vote her. She's a rebel, wanted for so much time, with technically no guardian: they wouldn't want her to defeat their prince, probably. And second, I have made two categories:

The "perfects": Sua, Ivan, Luka

The "rebels": Mizi, Till, Hyuna

See something similar? Both the perfects that are dead, have died by self-sacrifice. The only other dead character, Till, has been shot while reaching for his freedom, so you can't say this is for all characters. And let's be honest.. Patterns are usually being followed in this series. Id also like to add, even though it's a reach, that in a tier of how 'perfect' they are, it'd be:

1. Luka

2. Sua - not so obvious self sacrifice

3. Ivan - obvious self sacrifice

So, I'd say that Luka's might be even more backstage, as if to sabotage himself in a way that seems viable. It also kind of goes in line with his character, he's not one to break facade on stage.

I think this episode will be quite a deep-dive into their true selves. We know the least about them, so this will be GREAT. I'd love to see a more morally gray Hyuna in this. (Since I'm genuinely kind of tired of only Luka being villainized in the ship, which honestly..  is kind of in line with the other perfects. Let's let Mizi, Till and Hyuna be little freaks too) I also want to see atleast a little bit of Hyunwoo, like a little snippet of his mind, what he saw in Luka.

In conclusion, I'm SO happy and hyped about this HyuLuka episode, they're so mysterious and I really really want to see more of L- I mean, more of them. Getting 2 episodes where Luka is present one after another is literally THE dream to me. Basically, Wiege is killing me and I'm gladly letting it.

@4listr Since you asked to be tagged and also, @rockwgooglyeyes I REALLY want your opinion on this

[well-its-kind-of-a-long-story]

I’m a demon, I lie.