#4. wandered off at least two different points and had to be walked back to the group

[frankenshane]

learned the hard way today that some friend groups should never go on a field trip together

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt 4

Hiiiiiiiii! Sorry this took a minute, It's midterm season and I just adopted a new cat because I can. It's been busy. Hope you enjoy :p

Word count: 4.7k

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

Lae’zel tilts her head, eyes closed, as she listens to the distant shouting. You open your mouth to ask her what’s happening, but even with her eyes closed she somehow senses what you’re about to say and holds up a hand, silencing you.

Patience has never been a virtue of yours.

You bite your tongue and bounce on the balls of your feet while you wait. A glance at Astarion reveals a similar image. His head is inclined in the same direction as Lae’zel’s, his eyes unfocused. It seems that you and Gale are the only two with inferior hearing. He at least seems much less frustrated by that fact. You watch as he draws some sort of glyph in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

In his defense, after the day you’ve all had, some shouting isn’t all that alarming compared to abduction and mind flayer parasitization. 

Still, you can hear the differences in the voices even if you can’t quite discern what they’re saying. There are at least half a dozen people not far off from you, people who might be able to point you in the direction of a healer.

“We were right,” says Astarion after a pause that felt as if it spanned centuries, “There is a civilization up ahead.”

“Not for much longer,” Lae’zel drones in a bored voice.

“What?” You ask at the same time a horn sounds somewhere in the distance, followed by a rallied war cry.

“Goblins,” Astarion mutters.

Because why not?

You bite down on your bottom lip until you taste blood, weighing your options.

If a band of goblins takes whatever camp they’re attacking they’ll kill the only people you’ve managed to find after an entire day of walking. Your days are numbered now, and you don’t have many left. There doesn’t seem to be a choice to make. You turn to start down the path leading to all the noise when Astarion catches your arm.

“Wait.”

You try to pull out of his grasp but his grip only tightens. 

“What?” You snap.

“Why do we have to play hero for every sad soul we come across? This will make what, the fourth life or death altercation of the day?”

“Those people will die without our help!”

“People die everyday! Your inability to accept that fact is going to get us all killed alongside them.”

You rip your knife from its sheath and flip it up, holding the blade an inch from his throat. A normal person would have let you go and backed away from the weapon aimed at their jugular. Astarion only raises an eyebrow in a silent dare. Not the response you expected, but it is nice to see him on the receiving end of a knife to the throat for a change.

Lae’zel, who seemed to be regarding your disagreement with a cool disinterest, perks up at the sight of a weapon drawn. She unsheathes a blade of her own and begins cleaning her nails with it, watching you and Astarion with a sort of wicked approval. 

Gale, who appears to be the most reasonable one of the group, takes a step back. He eyes you both warily, but you get the impression that he's mildly satisfied to see Astarion in the same position he himself was in just a few hours earlier, a weapon aimed at his head. 

As a group you are rather dysfunctional.

“Those people currently being slaughtered may know something about the tadpoles in our heads, or at the very least may be able to point us to the creche. We’ve been wandering the wilds for hours. We have days before these parasites rip us apart. If you want to leave the best chance we have stranded to be murdered by a pack of goblins, be my guest, but I’m not taking that chance. Let. Me. Go.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, but he drops your arm.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Tav.”

“I hate to agree with him” Gale chimes in, “But it seems rather reckless to jump into battle without a plan.”

Lae’zel flashes the men a feral smile, gleeful at the prospect of bloodshed.

“The plan is to eliminate the goblin scourge. If that is too complicated for you, remain here until we return” She drawls 

She turns and stalks away, following the sounds of screeching goblins and howling wolves.

Astarion tilts his head back and sighs deeply as you follow her, muttering something under his breath.

Still, as you pass him you feel him silently fall into step behind you. Gale reluctantly trudges along, lamenting about how much he misses his library.

The noise of the battle grows louder with every step. Swords clang and wolves snarl loud enough to shake the ground under your feet. You break the treeline and find yourself at the narrow entrance to a small clearing in the middle of the dense woods.

To your left is a large rocky hill that overlooks the clearing. To your right, a cliff that connects to a massive wall split by a heavy wooden gate.

You stand in the bottleneck, watching chaos unfold in the field ahead. A horde of goblins- stout little creatures with razor sharp teeth and a bloodlust that probably rivals Astarion’s, are throwing everything they have at a human scouting party. A few tieflings stand on the wall, frantically shouting for back-up and returning fire when they aren’t being pelted with arrows. 

The air is heavy with the smell of blood and smoke.

Astarion takes a deep breath through his nose and hums a low, pleased sound that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Lae’zel observes the carnage and laughs, a sound you admittedly didn’t know she was capable of making. 

In a flash her greatsword is in her hands and she’s diving into the fray with all the murderous enthusiasm of a rabid displacer beast. 

She blocks the swing of a bugbear’s club and throws it off balance, but misses her next attack on the creature as it throws itself to the side. She hisses in rage and stalks after it as it scrambles away on its hands and knees.

Her arrival doesn’t go unnoticed, and several goblins turn, redirecting their murderous rage towards your group.

You hear Gale begin muttering the sleep incantation and do your best to provide cover as he chants, launching magic missiles at any creature that comes too close. You do a decent amount of damage, knocking more than one goblin clear off its feet, but they don’t seem to notice the pain. They only seem to get angrier as they charge the humans at the gate. You could use an archer right about now.

Where the hell is Astarion?

You whip your head around, scanning the battlefield, but he has disappeared completely. Disappointment fills you when you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. You didn’t take him for a coward but it’s possible you misjudged him. You don’t have time to dwell on it now. 

A flash of silver catches your eye in your search, and you’re momentarily distracted by a strange newcomer cutting his way through a throng of goblins. He’s not dressed like the other humans, his clothes are dark and well armored as opposed to the brown leather outfits woven with leaves the scouting party are wearing, presumably for camouflage. He’s brandishing a blood soaked rapier, and you can’t tell exactly what from here but you think there’s something off about one of his eyes. 

He laughs as he cuts down a snarling goblin. There’s something so distinctly familiar about him, but now is neither the time nor place to find out what it is.

A goblin whose arm was singed by one of your missiles turns and locks eyes with you, smoke curling up from his burned flesh. The smell has bile rising up from your stomach. It lifts its scimitar above its head and screams a battle cry, sprinting for you with a promise of death in his eyes. 

Time itself seems to slow as you raise a shaking hand. Your power recoils when you reach for it. Your vision swims. The strain sends a spike of pain through your skull. You’ve used all the magic you can. 

The goblin is a few steps from you now. The rusted blade he holds above his head is dripping black blood, and so are the pointed shark-like teeth he bares at you in a snarl.

You suppose this ending is slightly preferable to becoming a mind flayer, though not by much.

You brace yourself as the goblin lunges for you, but a brief flash of light slams into it mid-air, and it drops like a stone at your feet. 

You stare at it in stunned silence for a moment before an unexpected sound rattles its small frame.

Is it… snoring?

You whip your head toward Gale, whose eyes are glowing with pure white light. He nods at you and continues casting, launching magic missiles of his own at one of the goblin’s wolves. 

You take the rescue for what it is and plunge your knife into the sleeping monster. It twitches once, and the snoring stops.

You’re out of spells. You have firebolt as a cantrip, but every time you use it your vision blurs and vertigo wracks your body. You wouldn’t know how to shoot a bow even if you had one. If you want to continue fighting the goblins you’re going to have to get a lot closer.

You leave Gale to his casting on the outskirts of the battle and cut your way towards the center, forgetting that you’re opening yourself up to fire from the archers positioned somewhere on the hill above you.

You realize far too late that you don’t have a shield, but you also notice that somehow the arrows that were previously raining down from the top of the hill have inexplicably halted, and you have a clear path forward. 

You spot Lae’zel, who is battling a bleeding one-armed bugbear and a snarling bare-faced wolf. The wolf lunges for her, and she’s forced to dodge backward toward the bugbear who uses his one remaining hand to slam his metal club into the back of her head. She blinks dazedly and sways on her feet for a moment.

The wolf leans back on its haunches and prepares to lunge for her throat.

You won’t reach her in time. 

You sprint for the creature anyway, fear for your companion fueling you, when an arrow sinks into the wolf's side. It yelps and frantically gnaws at the arrow, attacking the source of its terrible pain, ripping its own flesh in its panic. It provides just enough of a distraction for you to change course and leap onto the back of the bugbear, burying your knife in its throat. It gurgles for a second, choking on blood, and drops to the ground at Lae’zel’s feet. She turns with a shout and beheads the yelping wolf in one swift strike. 

Panting, she turns to you. One of her pupils is blown wide, the other just a slit.

“I didn’t ask for your assistance” She growls.

“You’re welcome” You reply, which earns you an unfocused bleary-eyed glare from the concussed Githyanki.

An agonized scream pierces through the clang of weapons and the crackling fire. You turn just in time to see a human archer a few yards away staring down with horrified eyes at the grinning goblin who’s scimitar is buried in her stomach.

Fuck.

You change directions and lunge for the girl, hurling a firebolt at the goblin’s head in the process. It screeches, dropping the scimitar to swipe at the flames engulfing it's pointed face. Vertigo almost takes you to the ground, but you manage to clumsily catch the girl as she drops to her knees, her skin pale and clammy.

She babbles frantically as you lower her slowly to the ground.

“I can’t- please I’m only t-twenty I d-don’t wanna die” 

Her hands are slick with her own blood and they clutch at your shirt as you assess the damage. The only healing spell you know is lesser restoration, and while that may buy her a few seconds of relief from the blood loss, the wound is still open. Even if you did know a healing spell powerful enough to save her, you couldn’t cast it in the state that you're in. You can do nothing to solve the issue of the blade protruding from her belly. 

You apply pressure to the wound. There are only a few goblins left alive, the battle will soon be over, but every second the fight drags on feels like an hour as you hold this girl together with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” You try to assure her, your voice shaky.

She swallows dryly and shakes her head.

“It doesn’t”

That can’t be good.

“That’s good. A healer is on their way. You’re going to be al-”

Before the last word can leave your lips something launches into your side, and the breath is knocked from your lungs. Your vision doubles and a formless black blob sways above you. You blink a few times and your eyes clear. The goblin you lit on fire smiles at you as best it can with the skin of its face crisped black and melting off. Your eyes shift sluggishly to the dagger raised above its head, just in time to watch it fall. You hear the wet squelch of the dagger ripping through the flesh of your shoulder. 

It doesn’t hurt at first, it almost feels as though your arm has fallen asleep. A riot of pins and needles shoots down all the way to your fingertips and back up again. Then comes the explosion of pain so intense your body jerks under the goblin that still sits on top of you. It cackles as you tense in a silent scream, twisting the blade until your vision darkens around the edges.

It happens so suddenly you almost miss it. One moment the goblin is twisting the blade and laughing, the next it’s gurgling and choking on the arrow protruding from its throat. You reach up with your uninjured arm and yank the arrow free of the creature’s neck, watching the life fade from its yellow eyes as it pitches to the side and slides off you, leaving the dagger buried in your shoulder.

Your gaze snaps up to the top of the hill, where you see Astarion, his bow raised, eyes trained on the dead goblin that fell to your side. At his feet, two more goblins lie dead with their throats slit, their bows still clutched in their hands. 

That’s the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

~

You fall through an endless black void. The wind rushing past your ears and whispering over your skin is the only indication you’re moving at all. The darkness is so potent you genuinely can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed.

You spread your limbs out as far as you can, hoping to feel something, anything, but you’re falling through open air.

Oh. You’re closer than I thought you were. I wasn’t expecting you so early.

A voice that is not your own bounces around inside your skull. 

There’s a blinding flash of light, your eyes were open after all, and reality shifts. You don’t land but suddenly you aren’t falling either, you’re standing on a rocky island floating in an endless purple sky. In your cursory glance you find a shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the island, legs kicking over the vacuum of empty space below them.

You freeze, unsure where you are or how you got there.

“Come,” Says the same voice you heard in your head moments ago, “Sit with me. There is much to discuss.”

The voice is soothing, gentle, and you take a step forward.

~

With a crack you're suddenly yanked from the dream world and back into your body. You find yourself still sprawled on your back on the battlefield. There’s a sharp burning sensation in your cheek, and a shadow leaning over you, haloed in sunshine. It looks almost like…

“Astarion?”

The shadow sighs in relief.

“Yes! Thank the gods. This would have been really awkward to explain if you had amnesia.”

“I-” you reach up to rub your stinging cheek and groan when pain lances down your arm. You can’t move it.

“Did you slap me?”

You feel yourself fading away again, consciousness slipping out of your grasp.

The shadow that is actually a rather blurry vampire nods solemnly.

“I did. I’m about to do it again.”

“S’not nice.” You mumble.

“Tav, if you can stay awake for a moment longer I can get us out of here. I need you to look into my eyes. Can you do that for me?”

You aren’t entirely sure, your eyelids are so heavy, but you do try. Slowly, you manage to pry them open enough to meet Astarions eyes. Once your gazes collide, you wonder why you ever thought it was hard to keep your eyes open at all. It would pain you to look away now. His eyes are such a hypnotic shade of red. You think it might be your new favorite color.

“That's it Tav.” His voice is low- enticing. It satisfies something deep within you, and you find yourself holding your breath, hanging onto every word. 

“You aren’t going to sleep anymore. You’re going to stand with me and walk through the gate.”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished speaking.

Vaguely, you know what this is. Vampires, and apparently vampiric spawn, have the ability to compel creatures. Some are better at it than others, and some creatures are harder to compel than others, but you make it easy. You don’t even try to resist, knowing this compulsion might just save your life.

That is until you accept Astarion’s lended hand and stand, looking down to see the glassy, lifeless eyes of the human girl you were trying to save before the goblin stabbed you.

Her arm is stretched toward you, a look of despair frozen on her face, as if she reached out to you in her final moment.

You reach for her, praying to anyone that will listen that she’s not actually dead, when Astarion catches you with an arm around your waist.

“There’s nothing more that you can do for her. Walk.”

Your resolve is weaker than it’s ever been, and the compulsion takes you completely. Your legs move on their own accord. Astarion keeps an arm around your waist and pulls your good arm over his shoulder, bearing the brunt of your weight as you make slow progress toward the gate that everyone is fleeing for. You see Gale and one of the tieflings carrying an unconscious Lae’zel on fabric stretched between two long branches. They place her on the ground just inside the entrance and rush to find a healer.

You stumble inside after them. Every heartbeat triggers a fiery explosion of pain that leaves you gasping. Astarion half-drags you to a wooden stump and sets you down on top of it, his compulsion fading along with the rest of your energy. He crouches in front of you and inspects your shoulder, tsking softly.

“Go'head” You say, your words somewhat slurring together.

His expression turns wary as he motions something over your shoulder.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

“Say it.” 

He shakes his head in confusion, and you try again, pushing the words out through shallow huffs of air.

“Say ‘I told you so’” 

“Ah” he smiles “As much as I would love to, it’s beneath me to kick a lady while she’s down”

“I’ll show you who’s down.” You attempt to threaten, but when you lean forward a wave of nausea hits you, and you double over, pressing the hand you can move to your mouth as if you can push back the rising bile.

Astarion positions you back upright with a hand on your good shoulder, something resembling concern in his voice as he calls for a healer. It’s becoming very hard to breathe.

You hear someone rush to his side, but you don’t even have enough energy to turn your head to see who it is. 

“Is she ready?” The stranger asks.

“She’ll have to be. She’s losing a lot of blood. I can hear how hard her heart is beating to pump what little she has left.”

He taps your face as you begin to nod off and you open your eyes, unsure of when you closed them.

“This is going to hurt.” Is Astarion’s only warning before he rips the dagger out of your shoulder.

You open your mouth to scream, but someone presses a large bottle full of thick red liquid to your lips and you drink instead, desperate for the relief a health potion will provide. You grimace both at the metallic taste of the potion and at the itchy sensation of your muscles knitting themselves back together. The wound closes and the pain subsides, but your shoulder still tingles savagely with pins and needles.

Some of your energy returns to you, and you glance up at the stranger that gave you the potion. The dwarven druid returns your nod of thanks with one of her own before turning her attention to an unconscious Lae’zel, who you notice was moved to a cot sometime between when you stumbled through the gate and now. You peel your bloodstained shirt off your shoulder and see for the first time the angry red scar that remains despite the magic of the healing tonic. You cringe and pull your shirt back over it. 

When you look over at Astarion, he is staring at the bloody dagger he pulled from your shoulder with an intensity that unnerves you.

“Astarion?” 

He startles as he’s pulled out of his thoughts and drops the dagger on the ground at your feet. He bares his teeth in an expression you think was meant to be a smile, but doesn’t quite make it past a grimace. He stands fluidly, and you scan him from head to toe for injuries. He doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him. 

Relief and annoyance battle it out in your head as you follow suit, standing on shaky legs.

“Thank-”

He turns and glares so angrily you shut your mouth with an audible click.

“I don’t want your thanks. We had a deal, Hero, all I did was hold up my end.”

You remember the deal you made with the vampire.

You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.

Interesting.

“I don’t think I like that nickname” You frown.

“Oh? I can think of a few more you might like better.” He winks, and your eyes widen in genuine fear as you imagine what he could possibly mean by that.

“No no, hero is good- great even.”

Astarion chuckles in sadistic delight and ushers you further inside the grove toward Gale, who you see also looks mostly unharmed other than a gash above his eyebrow. Upon closer inspection however, you see the same bone deep fatigue you feel mirrored in his eyes. Magic takes energy to cast, and the toll exacted on a caster for pushing their limits is merciless.

“Glad to see you’re okay Tav,” He says by way of greeting. He gestures at the older tiefling man he was speaking to when you approached.

“This is Zevlor. He’s offered to allow us to make camp inside the walls of the grove until we recover from the battle.”

The tiefling nods and places a hand over his heart bowing his head at you and Astarion. In your current state, drained of magic as you are, the tadpole seems to have more control than it did before. Your mind is drawn to Astarion’s like metal to a magnet, and when the connection clicks into place, you feel his awkward uncomfortability with Zevlor’s gesture. It seems Astarion is inept at accepting thanks from everyone, not just you. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your assistance out there.” Zevlor begins, “There surely would have been many more casualties if you had not done what you did. Your friend Gale of Waterdeep-”

A pulse of sadistic amusement bridges the gap between yours and Astarion’s mind and you watch his mouth twitch as he suppresses a smile. Gale’s lips press together in thinly veiled annoyance. Zevlor continues on, completely oblivious, “-tells me you’ve been searching for a healer. Our main healer left with the scouting party you saved today and hasn’t returned, but his apprentice Nettie is more than capable of healing most ailments. I’m sure she’d be happy to counsel you in the morning once all the wounded have been tended to. We’ll point your Gith friend your way once she wakes up.”

You nod gratefully and Zevlor is called to help someone else before anything more can be said. The link between your mind and Astarion’s buzzes with energy and he turns to you with a horrified expression as he’s suddenly bombarded by everything you’re feeling. 

“How are you standing up right now?”

“I have no idea. I can’t feel my legs.”

Gale flashes you an alarmed look. He notices your shaking limbs and holds out an arm. You consider his offered help for a moment before shaking your head. You don't want to be a burden to this man you've just met. You'll be fine as long as you can sit down sometime in the very near future. Gale drops his arm but not his concerned expression.

“A healer I am not, but I don’t imagine trembling with every step is a sign of anything good.” He warns

You wave off his concern with a weak smile and continue walking. Astarion and Gale follow, a little too close for your liking, as if they're waiting for your inevitable fall.

Astarion responds to Gale's warning for you.

“If I didn’t pity whoever's waiting for you back home before, Gale of Waterdeep, I do now.”

Gale’s face scrunches in annoyed confusion.

“I don’t have a partner... anymore.”

“I bet I know why.”

"You most definitely do not."

“Would you two shut up for a second?” You hiss.

You're passing a merchant’s table littered with armor, camp supplies, magical artifacts, dyes, and weapons. A crossbow catches your eye, and you remember earlier on the battlefield wishing you had a bow that you knew how to shoot. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had more than a puny knife to fight with. You stop in front of the table. Astarion and Gale nearly crash into the back of you.

“How much?”

You ask the dwarven merchant digging for something in a box behind the table, pointing at the crossbow.

Astarion raises his eyebrows, but says nothing.

The dwarf’s head snaps up and his eyes widen as he takes in your blood-soaked ragged appearance. He sees the pale elf and the human wizard behind you and something clicks.

“I know you. The other druids won’t shut up about you. You saved the grove.” He says with a certain measure of awe.

“Tell ya what. I need to get rid of most of this stuff before the grove gets sealed shut in a few days, and we do kind of owe you our lives. Take whatever you want. On me.”

You feel guilty accepting gifts from this kind stranger, but you are in desperate need of camp supplies. Astarion doesn’t seem to share your hang-up. He begins grabbing things to stuff in his pack. Another dagger, two small hand-held crossbows, Black armor of some sort. Gale peruses the magical scrolls lined up on the other side of the table. You take the crossbow you originally asked about, intending to take it and it alone, when an amulet catches your eye. A simple black metal chain holding a small silver medallion. Ferre procul is engraved neatly along with a rune you vaguely recognize on the pendant. Upon closer inspection you realize it’s emitting a faint silver light. You think it's a magic storing item, one that would grant its wearer the ability to cast misty step. You pocket the amulet, and thank the merchant profusely before you follow Astarion and Gale toward your new camp. You nearly weep with joy at the sight of a fire already made, and the bedrolls laid out around it. You don’t even spare a glance at your companions. You toss your bag to the ground and collapse onto the nearest bedroll. Sleep claims you before your head hits the pillow.

----

Tag tiiiiiime.

This list is getting long 0-0

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

@smaranshakthi

@perseny

@stronglycoffeescented-blog

@hadesbabygurl

@y2cade

@screechingphantommaker

@whoopsitsloobis

@coratatum

@rando-no-5

@usuallyunlikelyfox

@kamartsu

@yaimlight

@h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333

@vulgarfuckinvirgo77

@ellie1725

@skittleabyss

@nari1837

@bitchyzombienacho

@otayz

@yggiboo

@alexandritgreylock

@grimissleepy

@raygunny

@thedevilssinner

@mythoughtsofinsanity

@olitheghost

Okay I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed ya.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 21

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: o this chapter has some fucked up stuff in it, mentions of body mutilation, child death

Summary: Batman and Red Hood go to the scene of the crime, then find out about another murder

Taglist: @amberpanda99 if you would like added to the taglist let me know!

The GCPD didn’t trust Red Hood, so Batman was the only one allowed at the crime scene. Jason waited across the street, not sure what to do honestly. Who killed a family like this? What kind of absolute monster? It made him sick. He paced, watching the cops, who were watching him back. He saw a mix pride and anger depending on the face. He figured they either loved that he had taken out Joker, saving them some work later, or hated him, wanting to get the big score themselves. He wanted to walk over, get as close a look at the scene as possible, but he didn’t want someone to get trigger happy and try shooting him. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Batman walked over to him.

“Gordon is willing to let you walk the scene with me,” he said. Jason nodded and followed him, the cops parting enough so they could get through.

“Since when is Batman friendly with murderers?” “Who does this idiot think he is? A Nightwing ripoff?” “He killed Joker, we should be groveling at his feet right now.” He wanted to scream at them, tell them what had happened, why he had become this person. He shook himself, they wouldn’t understand, ever, and he had made his bed, now he had to lie in it. He followed Batman into the dining room and stared. The family was seated for dinner, the food still on their plates. The parents were eating meatloaf, looks like the kids were having chicken nuggets. Their throats had been slit, which was the only decent thing this monster did. The rest of the scene was haunting.

“Emily Dervish, Dexter Dervish, their children, 7-year-old Amelia, and 4-year-old Tyson,” Gordon explained, voice coming out staggered at the sight. “We will have to wait for the coroner to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” Jason asked, unable to take his eyes off the children.

“To be sure if they were alive or dead when the killer cut off their faces.”

After another hour scouring for evidence and finding nothing Jason and Batman were about to head back to the cave, see if they could find anything there, when another officer came over to Gordon, whispering to him. They watched his face grow ashen and he nodded solemnly.

“There’s been another murder…not completely the same, but they left a note,” he said. “You two better come with me.”

Across town at the McCreary’s Pub there were cops keeping curious onlookers away. Despite it being early morning at this point people were still curious when they saw police tape and a medical examiner’s van. They brought out phones and started taking pictures when Batman and Red Hood arrived. Jason was really glad he hadn’t done the whole social media thing now, he couldn’t imagine what Twitter looked like, him and Batman working together. All those concerns left his mind when he entered the bar. There were at least a dozen bodies, all seated like they had been enjoying a night out, lifeless eyes staring up the ceiling, posed as if gazing towards Heaven.

“What the fuck,” Jason muttered. Batman wandered the room slowly, looking at different angles. Jason started, but then his eyes were drawn to the mirror behind the bar. Once again, a message in blood, the shaping of the letters completely different from the last crime scene.

DID YOU SEE HIM YET RED HOOD?

Batman stared at the message also and then looked at Gordon, nodding his head for the room to be cleared. The commissioner sighed and called for his guys to vacate for a few minutes, letting the vigilantes have the room. Jason started looking at the faces of the patrons, wondering who he was looking for. While Jason looked at faces, Batman looked at him. He could feel the man’s eyes, probably trying to read his body language, see how his mind was at the moment. He wouldn’t lie, his mind was fuzzy, the sight of all this death was almost too much for him to handle and he had been an assassin once. He was trying to avoid staring at the gaping holes in the victims’ chests.

“Why do you think they took the faces and the hearts?” Jason asked, trying to focus in on the case, ignore the dread rising in his chest.

“I am not sure, but we are most definitely dealing with at least two people who are very annoyed at you,” Batman said. Jason didn’t like that, that Batman was already blaming these deaths on him. ‘If you hadn’t killed Joker all these people might be alive’ he could Bruce’s voice in his head, the accusations stinging. “Do you know someone here?” Jason shook his head as he rounded to the back of the bar and stared.

“Ya, I do,” he said, eyes falling on Auggie Valentine. “This guy, um, he was my best, well my only friend in Crime Alley, before you took me in.” He looked at Batman and Batman stormed out of the bar. This was bad. Very bad. If this person had killed one of Jason’s friends that meant they knew who Red Hood was. They knew where he lived. He took off running, climbing on his bike and driving like the devil possessed him back to the cave. He had to know if YN was safe.

You were watching the monitor with Alfred, Dick, Barbara, and Tim, listening to Bruce and Jason talk about the murders. You were horrified by the family, and the bar just made things worse. Then Jason mentioned knowing the bartender and your blood ran cold. Someone knew. Someone knew Jason was Red Hood. The others noticed also, and they started looking around, maybe for listening devices, cameras, maybe for a person hiding in the shadows ready to attack. You sat the computer, staring at the live feed video from Batman’s cowl. You looked at the body of the bartender, noticing that you knew him too. He had been a loyal informant against Black Mask back when you were looking into him. Did the bartender know more than he said? Bartenders knew a lot of things that most people didn’t realize, and he had been willing to talk for no money, just the idea that Gotham would be safer if he helped. Auggie was a great person, you could see how Jason would have been friends with him as a kid. He was a good person; he didn’t deserve to be murdered and have his heart ripped anymore than those children deserved their deaths. It made you sick and you could only imagine what Jason was thinking.

The familiar sound of the Batmobile and Jason’s bike came from the ramp into the cave, and you went with the others to meet them. Jason was off his bike, helmet tossed aside and running towards you, taking your face in his hands, looking frantic.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You nodded, reaching up and taking his hands, holding them in yours. “I thought…they know who I am…”

“Shhh, I’m here, we’re all safe,” you whispered, hugging him tight. He gripped you like he used to after a nightmare, like you were going to vanish if he didn’t hold you tight enough. The others went to the Batcomputer to start discussing the samples Bruce had brought back and the other clues from the crime scenes.

“You’re not safe, please take some time off, please stay here,” Jason begged. You nodded, anything to calm him down. His breathing was hitching, and he was going pale. You guided him to sit on the floor, sitting next to him.

“I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay here, take deep breaths,” you said, rubbing the back of his head gently, petting his hair, catching the white streak and massaging the spot it sat on. He leaned his head into the touch, matching your deep breaths with his own.

“It was awful,” he said, finally calm again. “It’s my fault.”

“It is not your fault. You are not responsible for these monsters. You are a hero,” you said. He shook his head.

“I killed Joker, they saw it as a challenge. I thought it would end with him, but instead I just created a new threat. One head is cut, two more grow back,” he said. You leaned to his shoulder, arms around him.

“Jason, you killing Joker didn’t bring this about, this city is rotten, we all know it. Something in the air here breeds horrible criminals. No matter what happened they would be here, they just picked you because you are doing the most good right now. Just like they went after Batman,” you said, desperate to stop him from spiraling down into self-loathing again. You could see the signs, his eyes distant, his body fatigued from worry and despair.

“I need to go to the others, find out if they have any idea who did this,” Jason said softly, getting up. He walked away, leaving you there.

[writing-blocked-me]

Glued to Your Side

CW: Spoilers for everything past season 1, clingy Dazai, little bit of angst, brief mention of Oda, Dazai is so so smart but so so dumb, maybe OOC?, hurt/comfort, bad writing - I can’t write dialogue sorry!

Pairings: Dazai x Reader

Author’s Note: I need to stop writing angst so have a fluff piece!  Or at least what was supposed to be a fluff piece.  It turned more into hurt/comfort tbh.  Also I attempted dialogue for this fic but I am BAD at writing any form of speech so sorry for that.  Not proofread also I was very hungover when I finsihed this lmao.

Also! I have a Masterlist now! It only has like 4 works so far but hopefully that’ll change aha.

Masterlist

Ever since you started working at the ADA, your world had been turned on its head.  There was always some sort of strange job to take, or fight to have with the mafia or some other organisation.  However, there was one fact that remained constant since you had become a detective: Dazai Osamu was a flirt.

You were fine with it, even sometimes enjoying some back and forth banter with the living mummy. It was completely harmless, you knew it wasn't going anywhere so it wouldn't get in the way of your professional career. Plus, you knew you weren't the only one subject to Dazai's affectionate teasing, so you knew there would never be anything romantic between you too, meaning you were free to pursue real romance if you wanted to.

At least that's what you thought.

In the weeks following the batte against the Guild, Dazai had been clingier than usual. He made a point of always keeping some sort physical contact with you, whether it was leaning on you while you were sat on the agency's couch (after he dragged you to sit and do work there instead of your desk), or having you walk shoulder to shoulder when you went on jobs.

You guessed the close eye he had been keeping on you had something to do with meeting Q. You had been the agency member tasked with escorting Haruno and Naomi to safety. While the three of you were on the train, after escaping Lovecraft and Steinbeck, you met the small child named Yumeno. They had seemed like a perfectly normal, sweet little kid. The four of you got along and chatted as you waited to reach your stop. Getting off the train, however, was a different story. When Q bumped into Atsushi and activated his ability, your memories got a little fuzzy. It was like a flip switched in Atsushi as he suddenly became violent, lashing out towards Haruno, Naomi and yourself. You quickly jumped in to protect them, bearing the brunt of the attack and being thrown into the walls of the train station. You'd hit your head pretty badly, so you could not fully register the rest of what happened. You vaguely recalled Dazai rushing in and stopping Q's ability and watching the child wave goodbye as the train carried him off. You passed out shortly afterwards.

According to the others, Atsushi had taken Haruno and Naomi to safety, while Dazai took you straight to Yosano.

After the Guild used Q to attack Yokohama, Dazai had been stuck to you like glue. You hadn't minded, you were used to his antics and affectionate behaviour. But a week passed. Then two weeks and still Dazai was fixed at your side. You had begun to get suspicious. While he was clearly putting effort into appearing as his usual self, it was clear there was something going on. He had started flirting less and less with others, even ceasing his witty back and forths with the waitress at the cafe below the agency offices. He had gradually gotten clingier and clingier too, seeking you out even on days off, to the point where soemtimes you felt as if you were being suffocated.

Everything came to a head when your friends from home were visiting the city. You had planned to meet up with your friends in the shopping district. You had not planned on bumping into Dazai. Wandering through the shopping district, arms linked and laughing at old memories, you didn't even see the bandaged man until you walked straight into him.

“Belladonna! Fancy seeing you here!" Your coworker greeted you, eyes glinting with mischief.

You were sure he was up to something, but you couldn't quite figure it out. One thing you knew though, it was no surprise that he saw you there. You had made it known to the agency how you would be spending the day off.

"Yes, well you did know I was going to be here. I mentioned it yesterday Osamu," you remarked.

Truth be told, you'd been attempting to have a Dazai-free day. He hadn't left your side in a while and you were really in desperate need of some time to collect your thoughts. Due to his attentiveness over the past few weeks, your friendship with Dazai was slowly turning into something more, at least on your end. You were sure it was all in your head though so you needed some time away from him until you could collect yourself and sort your feelings out. His recent actions confused you.

Dazai's smile faltered at the mention of your plans. "Oh, I must have forgotten," he said, his tone uncharacteristically subdued.

You raised an eyebrow at his unusual behavior, but before you could say anything, your friends interrupted.

"Hey, who's your friend?" one of them asked, eyeing Dazai curiously.

"This is my coworker, Dazai Osamu," you introduced him, not noticing the way Dazai's jaw clenched at the mention of "coworker."

Your friends chatted with Dazai for a few minutes before you realised the time and had to rush to your lunch reservations.  Quickly saying goodbye to Dazai, you grabbed your friends and rushed off.

During lunch, your friends regaled you with stories from home, and you laughed and joked with them.  However, your mind was elsewhere, thinking of the strange actions of your fellow detective.  Dazai never forgot anything, you knew that you had mentioned coming out with your friends multiple times too, so what was he doing showing up? It was messing with your head.  At least you’d managed to escape him during lunch.

After saying goodbye to your friends, you decided you needed rest and you went home.  Shutting the door behind you, you dragged yourself over to your coush and toppled onto it, exhausted.  You had barely shut your eyes when you heard a knock at the door.  Opening the door, you came to see a familiar sight.

"Dazai? What are you doing here?" you asked, confused.

"Dropping by to say hello, of course," Dazai replied, strolling past you into the house and settling down on your couch.  “Bella you would not believe the day I’ve had.  First, Kunikida would not stop bugging me about th-”

“Stop.” You cut him off before he could finish his story.  “Osamu, what are you doing here? I mean what are you really doing here?”

His eyes softened at the use of his first name.  “I wanted to see you,” he spoke softly, barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid to let anyone else hear it.

“You see me all the time!” Your frustration started to get to you as you raised your voice.  “You literally saw me just a few hours ago, which, by the way, I know wasn’t a coincidence beacuse I definitely told you I was going out with my friends.”

“Y/N I-” he started, but you quickly shut him down.

“No.  Listen to what I have to say first. I don’t understand Dazai.  What do you want from me? You’ve been glued to my side ever since the battle with the Guild and you’ve been acting weird and I, I don’t know what’s going on but you’re messing with my head.  I was fine before, talking and joking with you, but now you’re just making me so confused and I don’t know what to think anymore.” You ranted and rambled on and on, letting all your thoughts out.  “What’s going on? Please tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” he started, as he watched you fall onto the couch beside him. He knew he had been acting different lately and he knew exactly why.  He couldn’t help himself, after all, he’d come to find he cared for you.  A lot.  Much more than he wanted to for everything that was ever worth wanting was lost the moment he obtained it.  But by God did he want you.  

When Higuchi and Gin lured him away from the station to talk, he had been suspicious.  But as he realised that Q had been unleashed, he felt his stomach drop.  He had never feared for another person so much, not since Oda.  He couldn’t lose you.  But he had been to late to protect you from Q.  So, while he knew he could not have you all to himself, he also decided he would always stay by you to ensure your safety.  You had become his top priority. 

Still, when you confronted him about his change in behaviour, he didn’t know how to respond.  He didn’t want to suffocate you, but he knew he had to protect you.  He couldn’t be with you, but he knew how crushed he would be if you were with someone else and it would no longer be his place to stay by your side.  He did not want to lose you and everything he ever managed to grasp was lost to him.  Hearing your words, he knew you had romantic feelings for him.  And now, as he gazed into your eyes, he was torn between his head and his heart.  

Noticing his silence, you began to speak again.  “This isn’t fair to me you know.  You have to be honset with me.  Just tell me the truth and from there, we’ll figure it out.”  You smiled, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.  He seemed so fragile, so delicate in a way you’d never seen him before.

The reassuring gesture prompted Dazai to once again look to the floor.  He know what you’d probably say, if he was honest with you.  You’d probably tell him it didn’t matter and that you could be together anyway.  Then you would get hurt and he couldn’t have that.  But he didn’t think he could lie to you either, not anymore.  You wouldn’t believe him.  So he chose his words carefully as he turned to you and began explaining.

“I know I've been...clingy, lately. And I'm sorry for that.” He snuck a glance at you, seeing you staring back, listening intently.  “You have to understand that what happened with Q, I just- I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know, belladonna, I’ve seen you in the field.  But this is something different.  I have to make sure i don’t lose you.  I need to make sure you’re safe because I-” He takes a pause again to collect himself, bracing for what comes next.  “I care about you a lot.  But I can’t be with you.  Everything I ever want, I ever love, is always lost and I can’t have that happen to you.  I tried to stop it, I flirted with others, told myself that it’s no different with you, but it was.  And the thing is, I’ve come to realise, I can’t help the way I feel about you.”

“Dazai-” You spoke, but this time he cut you off.

“Please just let me get this out.” He looked at you once more and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes.  Never had he been so open, so vulnerable. “I can’t help how I feel about you, and I can’t be with you.  Not in the way I want.  But I can protect you.  If I just stay close enough, I can protect you and you won’t have to be hurt.  I know it’s selfish, but it’s the only reason to stay close to you, without ever having to lose you, because you wouldn’t be mine.”

“Osamu-” He noticed you beginning to speak, but continued on, eyes now fixed to the floor.

“I knew what you’d say if I told you this.  I know what you’d probably tell me now if I let you speak.  That it’s not true, right? I can have you and you won’t be lost to me.  Except that it is true.  Everyone I’ve ever held close has been taken from me.  I will not let that happen again.” His tone was filled with conviction as his gaze grew more determined. “I’ve been to lenient, allowing myself to flirt and joke about with you.  It’s selfish of me, to do that to you when we have no future together, but I can never seem to help it when it comes to you.  I’m going to step back now though, let you live your life, find someone who deserves yo-”

“Don’t.” Dazai’s eyes widen as he takes you in.  Your eyes are glazed over, as if tears are about to spill at any moment, lip quivering, but your determination is written all over your face.  “You told me how much you care for me and want to keep me safe, right? Well, I feel the same way about you.” You were in complete disbelief.  How could he be so dumb as to believe you would ever love anyone else?  “You haven’t lost me yet, even though you said you wanted me.  There are some things in this life that we just can’t control, like when it’s time to depart from it.  You may lose some whom you love but that doesn’t mean that everyone else we love will follow the same pattern.” You reached out and grabbed his hands.  “Osamu, have you ever considered that, given that it’s my life, I should be able to decide how to spend it and who I spend it with?”

“Of course I have and you should, but that person can’t-”

“It can be you.  I don’t want to hear anymore of this ‘selfish’ crap about how you want to protect me and love me but can only do it from a safe distance.  I feel safest and happiest when I’m around you.  I feel protected because you’re there.  You’re a fool if you think anyone else is capable of making me feel that way.  Osamu I-” You took a breath, choosing how to word your next sentence carefully.  “Osamu. You are the most intelligent person I know, so I honestly don’t understand why you’re being so stupid right now.”

Dazai let out a shocked laugh at that.  He guessed he deserved the insult.  He guessed he probably deserved a lot worse than a single insult as he remained quiet, head down.

“You’re not being selfish by wanting to be close to me, especially when I want that too.  You are being selfish by keeping me at a distance and I won’t be letting that happen anymore.” At that Dazai lifted his head, turning to you wide eyed. “These feelings go both ways.  The idea of losing you is terrifying to me, just as losing me terrifies you, but we can’t stop loving others just because we’re afraid of loss.  We have to go on.  Maybe one day we might lose each other, but that’s not either of our faults, that is life.  We have to make the best of it by staying together and protecting each other.  The most fulfilling life for me is the one I get to spend with the person I love.” 

Dazai’s hands retracted from yours in one swift motion.  Startled, you jumped back slightly.  Had you said something wrong? Touched a nerve? Had you gone too far when you called him stupid?

“You... love me?” Wait what? Did he hear you right? You loved him? He had assumed you’d had romantic feelings for him, yes, but love?  He hadn’t realised you felt that strongly for him.  He’d assumed you’d easily be able to get over him as long as he distanced himself and he was dead set on keeping that distnce after starting this conversation.  Now, he didn’t think he could.  You loved him.  Him.  After that confession, Dazai lost any resolve he had left. His body moved of its own accord as his hands cupped your face, pulling you towards him.  

His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss, not at all what you’d imagined your first kiss with him to be like.  It was delicate and gentle, as if he was afraid of breaking you, yet still firm enough that you couldn’t escape his grasp, like he thought you may leave.  You assured him that wasn’t the case by raising your arms to rest around his neck, keeping him close.  As you broke apart for breath, Dazai rested his forehead against yours, keeping you as close as possible.

You stayed like that for while, holding each other, exchanging soft kisses, small reassurances that shared how much you cared for one another.  After that conversation, Dazai could not deny himself of you any longer, he couldn’t push you away, not after feeling your love.  You still had a lot to talk about, but for now, Osamu Dazai was happy to just hold you until you fell asleep in his arms and he could whisper his reply to your confession.

“I love you too.”

[jinxedya21]

Polar Opposites- A Shoto x Reader Fanfic (Chapter 4)

~ Shoto x Reader Arranged Marriage Royalty Fanfic ~ ~ Warnings: none :) ~

~Quick note: this chapter is written in a different POV! I hope yall like it!~

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4- you're reading it! Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

~Chapter 4~

He pulled the girl behind him as he gave her the grand tour of the castle, occasionally announcing the dining hall, grand hall, or some painting, He would stop then for a few minutes so the girl could look at the said item or place. It wasn't until they stopped at a balcony that he thought to ask the gin's name.

She hurried over to the balcony, leaning over the edge. He smiled slightly but then realized and quickly fixed his face back to his normal stok expression. He took a breath and then casually walled over to her, putting his hand on the small of her back, He could feel her surprise when he touched her but didn't react. "So," he started, " I never caught your name" She turned so she was facing him and he was forced to let go of her. "Well, I'm YIN. I was expecting that you'd already know my name, since ... y’know."

He cringed because he knew exactly what she was talking about- The arranged marriage.

She had such an energetic and feisty voice, it made his cold heart -no pun intended- flutter with joy. He had to fight back the urge to smile. He thought to himself, "Oh come on Shoto, Toughen up! You are a rock, You won't - oh damn, she's hot." He was just fighting a losing battle in his mind. He eventually gave in and allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up into a smile.

The girl, YIN, noticed his smile and her face lit up. "So, I saw there was a garden or something down there" She leaned over the edge again and he had the urge to steady her again, To protect this sweet girl. He restrained from putting his hand on her back again, But instead, he leaned against the railing next to her. He looked down. Oh. She was talking about his mother's royal garden. "We can go down and look, I suppose." He said nonchalantly, knowing what she was going to ask. She grinned and grabbed his hand, pink dusting her cheeks. though, he couldn’t tell if it was makeup or not.

She dragged him out into the hallway "Come on! Which way is it?" She wasn't visibly flustered, which surprised him. Usually girls would be a flustered mess by this point - with all he's done. Who knows. Maybe this girl is different.

Within a few minutes, they were down at the ground level, walking through the gardens. She was just so beautiful , walking next to the flowers and trailing her fingers along the stems, he let himself smile and picked a blue tulip from a tulip bush. He caught up to her and slipped it behind her ear, his hand grazing her shoulder. Her hand went up to the tulip and she smiled at him. Her face was now glowing pink, "cute.." was all he could think. They continued wandering through the gardens hand in hand with pink faces.

~Notes from me~

so, I typed up a little longer chapter today because I’ve been slacking off 😅 but, I hope you like it! I had some big time writers block so I decided to plan out the entire fanfic 😝. I have decided that there will be 14 chapters at least. Maybe more! Next chapter will hopefully be coming out in two or three days!

[thistransient]

So I went to the bar for rope night again, arrived something like ten minutes after opening and was still 4th (or so I thought) on the list for tying, which meant I had a lot of time to kill. I decided to read an ebook (yeah I'm a ton of fun at bars now in my old age) and ordered a black russian. Yes, in theory I know it's vodka and Kahlua, but I expected some balance and what I received was basically a big ol' glass of vodka with a splash of Kahlua in it. I was grimacing every time I took a sip, and a sip was the maximum I could take each time. I decided this was okay, cause I figured I'd be waiting at least three hours and needed to really milk it . However, I ended up getting called third, and knocked back the last 1/4 in one go. (We are setting the scene here.)

The rigger this time was very nice, definitely different style than the last one, I enjoyed it although at one point he suspended me by one leg and my shin was on fucking fire so I was like this hurts a little too much (to be fair I had asked to be uncomfortable, but not that uncomfortable? I'm still new at this and not exactly clear on what sort of pain is good fun and what means imminent nerve damage). Anyways this sort of thing gives a natural high (which is probably why people are into it), so after release I wandered off into the night full of vodka and awash in endorphins,

(no, it wasn't that intense I'm just dramatic)

It was clearly time to go home and lay down. But then! As I got off the train, I was struck with The Urge. Yes, the feeling that led me to dumplings a month or two ago. God had a message for me, if I just kept walking. To my rational mind this felt like impending disaster, but my feet knew no such logic. I wandered up to the flood wall and paced back and forth in the silent night but nothing happened and the benches were all too wet to sit on. I retreated back under the train track and parked myself by a deserted playground. What now.

I saw movement behind me, a guy out walking. No, he's sitting down in the spinny chair behind me? Are we destined for- no, no he's taking a phone call. I need to eavesdrop, this is it, this is my message from the higher power. He mumbles some sort of indistinct greeting, and then says, with great clarity,

你很可愛

[animasolaoriginal]

(7) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 7: The Dimple

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 4.2k -- READ ON AO3

when temptations present themselves

Chapter 6 -- Chapter 8

7

What now? he wonders, as he leans against the wall next to the door, his eyes wandering along the trees surrounding the cabin. Nebbia's tucked into the blanket, sleeping soundly. Thunder stands quietly in the night, occasionally huffing a deep breath. And Ben is caught in his own mind, unable to find peace.

He hasn't really planned this through, like so many things in his life so far. The last unplanned thing (“I'm gonna take you with me!”) has brought him right here, on the run from the people he stole this girl from. Damn Daniels. He's had run-ins with that family too many times to count at this point, and every time he slipped out of their grip, he thought it'd be the last time.

They are far more spread than he has thought. Owning the same fucking brothel he's decided to frequent after his own gang's successful stage coach heist. He's been so stupid. He should have known their influence would surpass state lines.

But would he have left Nebbia there if he'd known it beforehand? No. Definitely not. Whatever the circumstances, they would have always ended up here, or at least together, in safety, more or less. He's still stupid, running off with her like this. Without telling anyone. He's been with those people for a long time, especially Mitch and Ginny, and to leave, without a warning, is without a doubt a good addition to his list of Reasons Why He's Stupid.

He hopes they're all okay, that the Daniels didn't ambush them after all. Sending two scouts to their camp was a bold move, and seeing Joe sleeping by the gate when he should have been keeping watch was just another little itch he just can't scratch. A strange coincidence.

There have been a lot of strange coincidences actually, in these last two nights. From finding her in that room, from convincing her to come with him (and her actually coming along without any hesitation), from finding out who he's taken her from, to breaking Bill's nose on a whim (now it feels like it, in the moment it was all justified), to leaving Nebbia alone for five minutes... He's sure by now that it was Bill who assaulted her, getting his revenge, trying to at least.

He still wonders what he should do to that bastard. There are too many ideas in his head, one more gruesome than the next. But he can't focus on that now. They've left the camp, and he has no idea when they'll return, if they'll return. But where else should they go?

Sighing deeply he pushes off the wall and walks back into the cabin, trying to be quiet as he approaches the girl curled up under the blanket. Her long hair has fallen over her face again, and she's so small, just a ball of limbs, and he's still amazed how that can be a comfortable position to sleep. Slowly he kneels down beside her, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of silky soft hair behind her ear. She stirs slightly, but doesn't wake.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back on his knees, watching her.

There's still one very loud thought inside his head, one that's even overpowering the urges to grab her and kiss her and do other deranged things to her. One that scares him the most. That fucking dimple.

Without looking away from her sleeping form, he fingers the Wanted poster out of his chest pocket, slowly unfolds it, before he looks down at it in the semi-darkness of the room. Morning is right around the corner, the moon glowing to keep the upper hand, and there's enough light for him to see the face looking up at him from the crinkled paper.

Keira.

That he would find her daughter, the spitting image of her, in a brothel of all places, is like a stab in the back. He would never have thought that Keira, his first love, his partner in crime, would be capable of doing that, leaving her there, to her own devices, to a life full of degradation. Was she forced to leave? Bribed away? Blackmailed away? But why did she never come back to get her?

He would have tried anything to get her back if she'd been his daughter. The thought makes him pause. His daughter. The words have a strange ring to them. They crawl right beneath his skin, letting goosebumps ripple along his spine, like ants running up and down his limbs. She can't be, right? It's been longer than eighteen years (and nine months) since he last saw Keira, right? It has to be!

She left him in that cell and vanished. Never to be seen again. Did she really end up working in a brothel, got knocked up by a random stranger and left right after giving birth – or did Madam Claire lie to Nebbia? The leaving part sounds like her, but working as a prostitute? She'd always had a high libido, but would she actually make men pay for her? Maybe the thought isn't as absurd after all. She'd do almost anything for money.

And she needed the money to leave the country. She'd told him very early on. To get to Europe. See Italy. Did she make it? Was she on the other side of the pond while her daughter had to endure a life of servitude?

Keira had been opportunistic, but not that selfish.

Ben tilts his head as he folds the poster back together and slips it into his pocket, watching the bundle in front of him. How can she even breathe curled up like that? He's tempted to lie down behind her and pull her against his chest, hold her close, curl his body around hers, feel her soft breaths... Fuck. He's doing it again. And the thought is back. He leans in with a sigh and traces his fingertip over her cheek, just the right one, where he's seen it. That fucking dimple.

Many people have dimples, it's not that uncommon, or so he tries to tell himself. But what are the odds of his ex-lover's daughter having the same fucking dimple as him? What are the odds that it was him who found her, who saved her, who she feels safe with?

They have a strange connection, a chemistry he's never experienced before, not even with Keira. Nebbia trusts him, just like that, almost unconditionally, despite everything she knows about him (which isn't even much, but enough that she should want to stay away from him, which she doesn't). How easy it is for her to touch him, to be close to him, how comfortable she is around him, not even ashamed to be naked.

But he can't be her father, he just can't, it doesn't add up. Right? Many men have dimples. And he feels close to her because she looks like Keira. Nothing more. And he wouldn't be thinking all these dirty things about her if he were, would he? Or is he just that fucked-up after all?

He lets out a groan and leans back on his arms, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his eyes glued to the girl on the floor. She stirs again, squirming under the blanket. A little whimper escapes her, causing him to shiver. Maybe she's dreaming. Though it does sound more like a nightmare... And of course it would be, the universe doesn't seem to give this girl a break.

For a moment he just watches her, when more and more whimpers and little gasps fall from her lips, but then he's had enough and leans in, slipping his hands under her coiled up body and pulls her closer, until she's curled up in his lap, head resting on his thigh. He crosses his legs and cages her in, holding her close, giving her the warmth and comfort she needs. She relaxes slowly, her breaths calming down, the whimpers turning into quiet mewls, then peaceful, deep breaths.

His fingers slip into her soft hair, down her neck, over the curve of her spine to the swell of her hip where he rests his hand, warm and comforting against the many layers she's wrapped in, showing her he's here. And isn't that what matters in the end, no matter who he is to her? As long as he's here for her?

He'll focus on that. No longer looking back, remembering a woman he hasn't seen in almost two decades. Keira is gone, wherever she may be. But Nebbia is right here, in his embrace. And he'll give the choice to her. If she wants to be close to him, he will let her, and he won't feel bad about wanting the same thing. And if she doesn't, he'll live with it, watching her from afar, imagining the things she's too shy and innocent to admit to.

And no fucking dimple will ever change that.

He fell asleep somehow, and now he's sprawled out on his back while the girl is still curled up between his legs, warm and comforting against him. And of course he's hard because of it. Stirring slightly, he stares up at the ceiling of the cabin, blinking that last dream away, while the dazzling sunlight floods the dusty place, burning away all shadows, all doubts, all deranged thoughts.

Groaning, he wipes at his face, pushes a hand through his messy hair, rolls his stiff neck. He doesn't feel rested, but it doesn't matter. It never does, at least he woke up to a new morning, to –

A sudden jolt rushes through his spine, a warm touch to a sensitive place, and he's quick to sit up on his elbows and looks down, seeing a small hand rubbing along the length of his cock over the fabric of his jeans. “What are you doing?” he grunts out, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

Green eyes meet his, the bundle of blankets, hair and limbs stirring between his legs. Her cheek rests on his thigh while her hand still works on what lies heavy on the other. “You've been so tense,” she whispers, her voice like a hum in the air, sweet like honey, words full of temptation.

“You... don't have to...” he groans as she keeps palming him, expertly he wants to say, but the revelation of that sits thick in his throat.

“I want to,” she replies quietly, as her fingertips trail the outline of the bulge in his pants, curious fingers pressing down with the same little strength as her palm. Moving up and down, teasing the base, poking at the tip. Not even the thick fabric of his jeans can dampen the sensations of her ministrations.

He shivers, swallows hard. “Don't,” he tries again, tempted to grab her wrist and pull her hand away. But he's also tempted to undo his belt, open his buttons, free his erection, and let her work. He's conflicted, so he does nothing but lie back down, crosses his arms behind his head, closes his eyes, leans into her touches.

She shifts between his legs, her free hand resting on his other thigh as she sits up, then it moves to the waistband of his pants, and he sees her doing what he has wanted her to do without even looking down. It's all there behind his eyelids, a fantasy he's had since he first met her.

Her full lips strained around his cock. Flushed cheeks hollowing, a tongue pressing warm and wet against the underside, a deep suck, saliva coating his skin, her big eyes on him as she takes him deeper, deeper, into her little throat until there are tears streaming down her face, and he feels her tightness, he –

He sits up with a grunt and grabs her hand before it can finish unbuttoning his jeans. She yelps at the harsh grip, and he lets go immediately, cursing under his breath. Without looking at her, he scrambles to his feet, breathing heavily, his heart thundering inside his chest. He can't. He shouldn't.

Adjusting himself as he walks, he buckles his belt again, steps out of the stuffy cabin into the bright sunlight, hoping it'll burn away his thoughts. There are shuffling footsteps behind him, then a small, timid hand on his back. He flinches, but doesn't turn around. He hears a little sound akin to a sob, braces himself, and then her arms snake around his stomach from behind as she throws herself against him, a shuddering little thing clinging to him with her face pressing into the curve of his back.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers into him, the hum vibrating through his tense body. He inhales deeply, then puts his hands on her arms, gently rubbing them, while her small body tries to crawl closer to his.

For a moment he just stands there, listening to her shaky breaths, but then it's getting too much, and he carefully pries her hands away from his stomach and turns around, looks down at the girl still wrapped in the blanket, meeting her large innocent green eyes. He crouches down in front of her and holds her hands in his, cradling them gently as he looks up at her.

“I should be sorry,” he says hoarsely. “And I am, I didn't mean to be that harsh...”

She shakes her head, a few wavy strands of hair flying about as she does. “You said no, I should have stopped...” she whispers, biting her lip.

His hands move up to cup her face, so small between his large palms, frail and innocent. He scoots a little closer, leans up on his knees to meet her eye level, holding her gaze. His thumbs caress the corners of her mouth. “Nebbia,” he starts, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions inside his heart, trying to convey his conflicts to her, “I –”

She interrupts him by putting her own small hands on his bearded cheeks, so small, so fragile, her touch warm but surprisingly strong, confident, wanting. Her breath ghosts his dry lips. She leans closer, tilting her head, moving in, eyes half-lidded, fingertips grazing his ears, slipping into his hair, thumbs scraping over his beard.

He's frozen in place, just looking at her, waiting, wanting, but also not, and when her little nose brushes against his, he stiffens even more, holding her face tightly, almost too tightly, but she keeps going, inch by inch she comes closer, and then –

It's him who closes the distance. A little tug of his hands, a little jerk of his chin towards her, and his lips collide with hers, a desperate smack that makes her gasp, that makes his heart flutter and his stomach churn. One hand on her jaw, thumb on her chin, the other slipping to the back of her neck, both of them guiding her into the kiss. The fire within roars to life.

He can't stop himself anymore, he moves his lips against hers, slowly at first, carefully, still waiting for her to mirror his movements, and when she finally does, when there's the tiniest pressure back, he groans against her, kissing her firmer, more demanding, his hand splayed over the back of her head, holding her, pushing her closer.

Her fingers sink to his neck, holding onto his shoulders as she staggers slightly against him, heavy little puffs of air coming from her as his lips press against...close around...nibble on hers, and oh, that sharp little inhale when the tip of his tongue moves against her bottom lip, licks along it, using the little gasp to move between her now parted lips.

But before he can push it in further, taste her fully, feel her own pressing back at him, he lets out a grunt and leans back abruptly before he rests his forehead heavy on her shoulder, his hands moving along her body as he wraps his arms around her, holding her in his tight embrace, feeling her shivers and shudders. Her small, frail body, overwhelmed by his urges...

“Ben?” she whispers, her hands coming up to rub at his back, teasing his nape.

He huffs another grunt, inhaling deeply, feeling his lips tingling, warm and wet and almost a little swollen. And he imagines how hers must look, probably even redder, maybe a little irritated from his beard scraping over sensitive skin. Her eyes wide, glistening, not understanding a thing, not seeing his turmoil.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he barks a quiet laugh into her collarbone, growling in response. He inhales deeply, taking in her sweet scent, sleep still hanging over her, warm and comforting, filling his lungs.

“M'sorry, baby,” he mutters, slowly leaning back, loosening his grip around her.

When he looks at her, her eyes are narrowed in confusion, a little tilt to her head, and her lips, full lips, are indeed very red and slightly trembling. He leans back on his knees and raises a hand to cup her face, wipe his thumb over her bottom lip.

“I can't do this,” he whispers, staring at her mouth.

“Can't do what?” she replies in a breathy puff of air, almost sounding a little pouty. “What are you so afraid of?” she adds, voice shaking slightly.

He looks up then, meeting her hard gaze (as hard as a cute little girl can look, it's even more adorable that she's trying to appear tough, fighting her own emotions). His finger traces her cheek, rough fingertip scraping over soft skin. He watches her, memorizes the details of her face with his eyes, ignores her question. “Smile for me,” he whispers, leaning a little closer again.

She frowns, straining her features into the exact opposite direction. “What?”

“Smile for me,” he repeats with a soft smile of his own. She stares at him, blinks, but the corners of her mouth twitch, even more so when his smile widens, and she mimics it, and there it is.

He moves quickly, one hand on her nape as he guides her head towards him, then presses his lips to her cheek, parts them, lets the tip of his tongue dip into that barely there indent. He can feel it, taste her skin, the fucking dimple.

Breathing heavily against her, he closes his eyes, can't look at it. Can't look at her. His hands leave her body completely, resting on his thighs as he sits back on his knees in front of her, shaking his head in defeat.

The clap of her palms against his cheeks is loud as she cups his face with force. His eyes fly open, meeting hers. “What's wrong with you?” she whispers, sounding more confused than angry as she stares down at him.

Her words cut deep, but for a different reason than she intended. Yes, what is wrong with him... thinking these things about her... about his –

“Come on, Ben, talk to me! Why are you acting so strange?” she urges, holding his large head with her tiny hands.

“We have the same dimple,” he then confesses, letting it out, revealing the turmoil.

She looks even more confused. “What? Huh?” Her lips quiver as she opens her mouth and closes it again repeatedly, her eyes narrowed, a deep crease between her eyebrows. “So?”

He inhales deeply, then sighs. “I... I'm afraid I could be... your...” He can't say it, his voice strained, rough, a low tremble in his throat.

“What?” she breathes in exasperation.

“Father,” he finally says, quietly, a word like a ton of bricks burying him alive.

The tension in her face relaxes, turns into wide eyes, eyebrows moving up towards her hairline, lips parting into a silent O. A deep red blush creeps up her pale cheeks. He sees the cogs working inside her brain as she stares at him, the grip of her hands around his face loosening.

He just watches her, face tense under her soft palms, lips pressed into a thin line. She's slipping away, he can feel it, appalled, disturbed, irritated, angry? Disappointed? Her eyes move over his face, a frantic little twitch of green orbs moving back and forth, as she processes what he said. Her hands land on his shoulders, a barely there pressure.

But then she raises one again, extends a finger, traces his cheek, scrapes it over his beard, looking for the dimple that is hidden in the tension of his face. She finds it nevertheless, the little bit of skin barely visible between the thickness of his facial hair. Her eyes move back to his.

“So we have the same dimple,” she whispers, shrugging slightly. “So what? Is that all it takes to confirm that you're my... my... that I'm your...”

She can't say it either, apparently, and he sees the conflict in her gaze, the same as his. They seem clearly attracted to each other, their chemistry is there, the connection, a mirror image of his own desires, albeit probably less graphic. And yet –

“I've been with your mother, about twenty years ago, maybe a little less, I can't remember to be perfectly honest,” he says quietly. “It's possible...”

She shakes her head, slowly at first, then more agitated. “No!” she exclaims, her hands back on his face as she leans closer. He stays still, immobile, stiff, forcing himself not to give in to the temptations. “Madam Claire said –”

“What if she lied? What if your mother came to them already pregnant?” he whispers.

She keeps shaking her head, and he sees her eyes glistening slightly. Her breaths are frantic little huffs. “No,” she says again, barely audible. Her jaw clenches, her eyebrows furrow, she looks as if she's about to cry, and it's killing him.

“Baby,” he breathes, his hands itching to reach up and comfort her.

She swallows. “Do you... want to be my... father?” she then asks, blinking away the first tear.

His answer comes quick, almost harshly so. “No,” he says, seeing her flinch. “I want to be there for you, I want to protect you, but I also want to –” He inhales deeply, slowly moving up on his knees, getting closer, his hand finding its way to her waist. “Kiss you... and... touch you...”

She licks her lips, watching him, inching closer, meeting his motion. “Then... you're not... n-not my f-father,” she stammers, her lips quivering. “There's no proof... it doesn't m-matter...” Her thumbs wipe over the corners of his mouth, her eyes pleading.

He looks at her, his fingers digging gently into her skin. His other hand moves around her, up her back, to her nape, a gentle pressure as he pulls her even closer. “Nebbia...”

“It doesn't matter, Ben,” she whispers, her eyes boring into his.

And then she moves in, and her trembling lips meet his. Her kiss is shaky, uncertain, inexperienced. He lets her, just stays still, holds her. She moves her lips over his, purses them slightly, presses them to the corner of his mouth, to his upper lip, his bottom lip, a shiver running through her small frame. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't close them.

After a moment she leans back just enough that there's about an inch between them. Her warm breath ghosts his skin, her hands a little clammy against his cheeks. The tiniest sob escapes her, but he catches it before it can grow, before it gets worse. Catches it with his mouth. She gasps, but immediately kisses him back as he moves his lips against hers, even opens her mouth for him, darts her tongue out, meets his, lets them move against each other slowly, wet and warm and comforting.

Her taste is overwhelming.

He groans, she hums, his hand firmly on her neck, her fingers digging into his hair, gripping it as the kiss deepens. The hand on her waist drags her towards him, and she stumbles slightly until she's suddenly sitting on his thighs, straddling him, the blanket finally falling off her shoulders. He wraps an arm around her, pulls her close, leans back on his knees, gives her space that she immediately fills, while their tongues still wrestle, their lips still slide against each other, their noises a soft hum in the atmosphere, drowning out any doubts.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't...

Doesn't matter.

She is panting against him, her hands gripping his hair while he holds her, arms crossed over her back, fingers curling around her sides, her small body pressed against him, so close, so warm, squirming on his lap, rubbing against him. He groans into her mouth as his stomach tightens. Her needy little whimpers like music in his ears. She is obviously breathless, her lungs probably burning, but she doesn't stop, doesn't give her tongue or lips a break, as if she needs him more than air – and just as much as he needs her.

He takes the choice from her by turning his head slightly, inhaling deeply, and her lips keep moving over his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck, her little tongue sliding over his pulse causing him to shiver. She's insatiable, but he holds her close, moves one hand into her hair, stilling her against the crook of his neck, forcing her to breathe. Her chest rises and falls against his rapidly, her heart hammering against her ribs, vibrating through him as he presses his thumb against her jugular.

For a long moment they're just sitting like this, holding onto each other, savoring the aftermath of their kiss, each of them stewing in their own thoughts, if they are any due to lack of oxygen. His own are a low, nagging rumble in the back of his mind, and he tries his best to ignore them and to focus on the girl on his lap instead. She squirms slightly, the pressure of her pelvis against his groin sending little sparks through his nerves.

He noses at her hair, taking in her scent, hoping to drown in it. In his mind he is back at the brothel, cornering the lady of the house, forcing her to give him proof. It doesn't matter. But he needs proof. She could hold the answer, and even if it would confirm his suspicions, it wouldn't change anything. It doesn't matter. But he would know.

He needs to know.

Chapter 6 -- Chapter 8

End notes: I don't know about you, but I loved (writing) this chapter! So much drama, passion, angst and fluff and ahhh so good! Take this, slow burn! We've got contact! And a revelation that might bit a little off-putting for some... BUT before you leave because ew incest, hear me out: without spoiling anything: IF this becomes a reality or not (you'll have to stick with me here to find out, sorry), remember this is a piece of fiction! Just two people with a connection. A fluffy little love story (with eventual smut, just putting it out there). (Also historically speaking, well, the west was wild, right?)

I really hope you're more intrigued than you are appalled, because we're just getting started here! The drama continues! Please stay tuned!

Credits to the respective owners of those pictures. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around tumblr. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[dsandrvk]

Thursday, April 4 - Avila

We slept in a bit this morning, as yesterday was a long day and we didn't even have dinner until almost 10PM. Daylight savings time seems somewhat excessive here, as this early in the year the sunset is around 8:50, and it isn't even dark until about 9:30, while sunrise is fairly late, at around 8.

We spent the morning exploring sections of the small city, and the afternoon walking along the wall. The entire city slopes considerably to the west, and the wall slopes down with it. The city is probably three times as long in the east-west direction as in the north-south. On the east end the streets continue into town, but there is a natural drop on the north and south and on the west is the river. From the wall we could look down into courtyards and gardens we couldn't see from the street, but there were two sections that had wooden screens to the inside, and the towers here were also blocked off. These were residential areas where the inhabitants had obviously lobbied to be blocked from casual view.

As I mentioned, most of the towers were accessible and we could even walk over the tallest part of the gate by our hotel. The sections we could walk were split by the cathedral, which sticks out from the wall at one point. Naturally the cathedral is on the highest spot in the old town. It is pretty much over the top, and we were tempted to go inside, but our time was limited. Lots of lions surrounding it, however.

Since the walkable part of the wall ended on the short west side, we walked across the river again to a different viewpoint, but the morning sun had given way to high overcast and clouds, so we completed our circuit of the wall on the outside (I think that makes about 2 complete loops today) and headed back for dinner. Outside the east end of the wall are lots of shops, restaurants, and even a lonely tuk-tuk driver. Not something one usually sees in Spain! There was also a storefront that had windows designed as selfie views - it might have been more successful if the fingers didn't look so purple.

One of the things we have enjoyed about Avila is although does have healthy tourism, it is not as jammed with people as the more typical iconic places like Granada and Seville. The other interesting thing we noticed is that when you walk up to a marked crosswalk without a light, everyone invariably stops to let you cross. This did not happen in Andalusia, where you were more likely to be run over.

After dinner we wandered back out to look at some of the walls lit up. Our hotel has a tree strung with lights that twinkle and then blink on and off in shades of blue, which is fun to try with night shots. We were lucky to be right by the wall - in other places we have been too far to see lighted features at night (or it was raining).

Tomorrow we head to Segovia, which will be more on the "tourist trail", since it is an easy day destination from Madrid. Although it isn't very far as the jackdaw flies, we have to go north an hour on one line and then come back about an hour south again. At least we change trains in the same station.

[xexiar]

Keep Watching. Ch 4

Ch3 Ao3

Chapter 4

After another long day, I decided to take a different route home. Especially since I wanted to avoid getting jumped again. They already took my lunch money, but that doesn’t usually mean they won’t jump me. Sometimes I don’t get why Kacchan hangs out with Kato and Saito. I get that we lived and grew up in the same neighborhood. But I think those two are a bad influence for Kacchan. But not like he would listen to me.

At least the walk through the park was peaceful. Even more so, the afternoon sun gave a lovely glow to the trees. And when I came upon the center fountain, I couldn’t help but tear up. It was the same fountain that me and Kacchan pinky promised to be friends forever. As the memories pooled my thoughts, I walked over to the fountain. I reached into my back pocket and grabbed the last yen that Kato didn’t get from me. Without a second thought, I made my wish. I wish one day I could tell Kacchan how I feel for him.

Once I had made my wish, I started wandering a bit through the wooden area of the park. I wanted to avoid the main area of the park. Since it’s typically filled with couples holding hands. Sometimes there would be a couple sharing a grape. It always made me feel uncomfortable to see that.

As I continued my walk, I suddenly heard a noise nearby. Not many people walk this path. Which got me curious. It’s probably a stray cat. When I went to look, I went a few trees off the path. And that’s when I felt something touched my shoulders. I quickly turned around, just in time to get a hand covering my mouth. My nerves skyrocketed when I saw it was Kacchan. “Don’t you dare scream, nerd.” With that, he removed his hand. It didn’t take me long to realize it was just him. Which had my heart race even faster. And my face started to burn as I stood there.

Was Kacchan here to beat me up again? I was frozen in place as I watched him go into his right pocket. Then I was surprised when he handed me money. “What are you doing, Kacchan?”

“I ain’t a fucking thief. Stupid nerd.” He slammed the money into my chest. “Take it already.”

“Is something the matter, Kacchan?” I tried to push the money back to him. That seemed to anger him even more. “Kacchan?” Within a blink of an eye, Kacchan pinned me to the ground. All while, I could faintly feel him putting something in my pocket.

“Take your damn money back!” Once his hand left my pocket, he got off me. As shocked as I was at that moment, something else crossed my mind.

“You got stronger, Kacchan. That’s so cool.” Damn it! Old habits die hard. But I couldn’t help it. Even when Kacchan is mean to me, I still admire him. That’s when I noticed his face turning red as he looked away from me.

“Shut up.” I then watched as he picked up my book bag and threw it at me. “Get home, nerd.” With that, he started to walk away. Staring at him, I had this tight feeling in my chest and couldn’t hold back the tears. Without a second thought, I followed him. I just hope he doesn’t get mad since we did live in the same direction.

…

As everyone started getting ready to leave for lunch, Kato and Saito walked over to me. They were both snickering among themselves. Kato then sat on my desk and pointed behind me. Which I knew he was probably pointing at Deku since he sat behind me. Why, even in 2nd grade, did he have to be in my class and behind me? “I’m short on cash for lunch. Wanna see if nerd could spare a few yen?”

The way Kato and Saito grinned about this made me feel uncomfortable. But I never backed out from anything. With that, I turned around to face Deku. He held up his arms in defense as we punched and kicked him. It didn’t take long before Kato took Deku’s lunch money.

As we walked out of the class, I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at Deku. He was crying as he just stood there on the floor. Everything about this felt wrong. Once we turned the corner, I dragged Kato and Saito to the nearby bathroom. They didn’t stand a chance against me, as I beat them. With that, I took back Deku’s money and placed it in my pocket. I need to find the right moment to give this to him. What’s wrong with me?

During lunch, I was alone again, but I didn’t care anymore. I don’t need anyone. But why do I keep looking for Deku in this crowd of extras? At this point, it became a habit to keep an eye on that nerd. After all, he gets bullied by just about everyone. Right now, a few of the girls are dumping their drinks on him as they walk by.

The rest of the school day was as boring as always. The classes were too easy to where I could do this in my sleep. Once we were dismissed for the day, I made my way to the school entrance. Now how will I give Deku his money? Not like I could do it at school while everyone was watching. What would that say about me? Everyone would think I was being weak and pity the school crybaby. That won’t do.

What the hell was I even doing? Why should I even care about giving Deku his money? Just as I was about to give up on the thought, I saw Deku finally leaving the school gates. It was then that I saw the troubled look on his face. Not like I could blame him, with the day he had. Perhaps my idea wasn’t such a bad one. Aren’t heroes supposed to help people?

Keeping my distance, I couldn’t help but notice how Deku didn’t take his usual route. Glad I didn’t walk ahead. I probably would have missed him. Watching how he walked through the park made me feel sick. It almost felt like I was stalking him when that wasn’t it.

But when I saw him stand in front of the fountain, I had a sinking feeling inside. He was standing in the same spot we made our promise as kids. At that, it was the same spot where I made a silent promise to myself that I will always be Deku’s hero. Now, look at us.

Watching Deku toss a coin into the fountain had me hoping to know what he wished for. But I’ll never be able to ask that. While he walked away, I went and made a wish of my own. Maybe when I become a pro hero, I’ll be able to tell him how I feel. That wish felt so heavy that I almost forgot what I was currently doing.

Without a second thought, I started to see if I could catch up to him. To my relief, he was taking the more wooden path of the park. Maybe if I’m fast enough, I could get in front of him. That way, I can pull Deku off the walkway, so nobody can see me giving back his money. And just my luck, he was making his way over to me.

Why was my heart pounding out of control when I finally had Deku within my hold? It took everything in me to stay calm. “Don’t you dare scream, nerd.” With that, I backed off a bit. And reached into my pocket for his money. I have to do this fast, or else someone would see.

“What are you doing, Kacchan?” The way Deku was looking at me took my breath away. He looks so scared, yet he’s still standing in front of me. What is wrong with him?

“I ain’t a fucking thief. Stupid nerd.” I slammed the money into his chest. “Take it already.” Why does it sound like I was pleading with him?

“Is something the matter, Kacchan?” Why aren’t you taking your money back? Stop looking at me like that! Damn it! “Kacchan?”

I quickly turned and slammed him to the ground, pinning him. If Deku won’t take his money back, then I’ll force him to take it. “Take your damn money back!” Stop fighting me. Why are you so damn nice? Damn it! You’re so damn stubborn. Once I put his money back in his pocket, I got off him.

“You got stronger, Kacchan. That’s so cool.” What in the world? Does Deku still think I’m cool? That pain in my chest came back as my face began to burn.

I quickly looked away and saw that Deku’s book bag was on the ground. “Shut up!” I tossed him his book bag. “Get home, nerd.” With that, I turned away. Damn it. Why it’s always him that makes my face burn up? Why does he make me feel so many things? I hate it.

As I walked home, I could hear Deku behind me. It’s not that I could get mad since we live in the same direction. But it sure was annoying. “So, how’s the cram school?” What the hell?

I angrily looked over my shoulder at him. “How did you know I was going to a cram school?”

“I overheard my mom talking with your mom about how you were at one of the best cram schools. And also, how I should go too. But mom quickly stated that wasn’t needed since it was a school for the gifted.”

“Damn right, nerd.” And just like that, there was silence again. Until we passed by the TV store. Just as another rerun of one of many All Might’s missions in the states. No matter how many times I’ve seen them, they’re still so awesome. After the commercials started, I went back to walking home. All the while, I could hear Deku mumbling to himself again. It was somewhat annoying and cute about him. But I would never admit that last part out loud to anyone. “For fuck sake! Shut up, you damn nerd.”

“Um, Kacchan.” I looked behind me and saw how Deku was fidgeting with his shirt. Just another habit he still had since we were little. And yet, something about it always made him seem even cuter. I walked over to him and pinch his right cheek. “Ow, Kacchan.”

“If you got something to say, then say it. Damn, nerd!”

Deku still wasn’t looking at me as he placed a hand on his cheek. His face was as red as a tomato. Did I really pinch that hard? “There’s a hero convention coming up next Saturday. Would you like to go?” What in the world? Next Saturday? As I tried to recall what the date would be, my face suddenly burned. If my memory was right, it would be Deku’s birthday.

Is he really asking me to spend time together on his birthday? Wait! Do I even have a gift for him? I started walking away from him as I thought about what I should do. Not like he would expect a gift from me. That’s when I thought of it. “You’re such a nerd.”

…

When I got home, I just couldn’t believe it. Kacchan actually spoke to me. My face started burning as much as before as I tried to get to my room. That was until I noticed that mom wasn’t home. As I walked into the kitchen, I saw the bento box on the table.

As I ate my food, I kept thinking back at the events that happened today. Besides getting juice dumped on me and getting beat up twice. There was some brightness to everything. Kacchan and I spoke. I got to witness Kacchan smile as he watched All Might at the TV store. Seeing him smile was always something I treasured.

But what really got me worked up was the last thing we said to each other. I still can’t believe I even asked him. At that, he didn’t even say yes or no. What does this mean? Should I just go to the convention and just hope to see him there? Or should I wait by his house for him? I wasn’t sure what to do. But all I did know was that I was going to the hero convention. And that there might be a chance I would see Kacchan there.

While I got ready for the con, mom came into my room. She was holding a colorful bag as she smiled. “How’s the birthday boy doing this morning?” Based on the smile she currently had, I was sure what she really was happy about. Which was that I wouldn’t be home on her day off. Since I’ve noticed how depressed she gets when I’m home. But if I left and came back, she never had any sign that she binged or cried.

“I’m fine, mom.”

“That’s good.” She held the bag to my face. “I got you a gift. Open it.” I took the bag and pulled out what it had. To no surprise, it was a new pair of my favorite Nike Air Force 1, in red. This had been my birthday gift 3 times in a row. But I wasn’t complaining since I did wear out my sneakers a lot.

“Thank you, mom.” She then pulled out a few bills from her pocket.

“Since you’re going to be out, please eat.” I took the money from mom and placed it in my own pocket. “I look forward to hearing all about your day.” Now that was a lie. As mom skipped out of my room, I waited till I knew she was in the kitchen before closing my door. I locked it and went back to my bed. Picking it up, I went and grabbed my secret stash.

It took me a few months of dumpster diving and selling off what I folded. But it was so worth it. Because now I knew for sure that I had enough to get something from every booth at the con. With that, I finished getting ready and was out.

The sun was just rising as I walked to the station. As I did so, I was somewhat disappointed that I didn’t see Kacchan at our usual meeting spot. Even though I shouldn’t have expected to see him, I was still hoping. And when I got to the station, I was shocked by what I saw. There, on the main platform, was Kacchan.

What should I do? Before I could think of anything, Kacchan spotted me and walked in my direction. “What stop is that damn con?” I couldn’t hold back a smile as I told him. “That’s not as far as I thought.” He then pushed past me.

…

“I’m home.” I walked into the kitchen and was surprised to see mom was home. “Hey, hag.”

Without turning, she screamed back. “What you want, brat?”

“Deku’s damn birthday is next week.” That’s when mom turned around. “So, are going to help or what?” Mom just smiled at me before grabbing her phone and calling dad. We might not always get along, but sometimes she can be nice. Especially when she doesn’t get mad when I show her my report card.

I made sure I woke up extra early that Saturday. It was a struggle to sleep last night, but I needed to pick the perfect outfit. Not like I was trying to impress anyone, but I wanted to dress my best. My face was on fire as I couldn’t decide between green cargo and my black joggers. It didn’t help that I wasn’t sure if I was going to wear my pullover skull hoodie or my zip-up beige hoodie. Why was this so hard?

“Damn it!” I ran over to mom, who happened to be sitting in the dining room. “Black or green?” Mom shook her head and dragged me back to my room. She then went about picking my outfit. “I am not wearing a button-down to a casual event! You old hug.” She then tossed me my black cargo and an orange shirt. Along with handing me my favorite lightweight military boots. She even handed me my zip-up black hoodie and my gray sling bag. “Thanks, mom.”

“Whatever. Is your old man expected an extra guess for dinner?”

“I’m not sure.” She shook her head as she left my room. With that, I finished getting ready and headed out.

As I waited at the station, I could feel my nerves going crazy. This wasn’t anything special, but I was still excited. I looked at my phone and saw the time. Knowing that nerd, he should be here by now. I started to look around, and without fail, he had just gotten on the main platform. But I will admit it was impressive to see him in something that wasn’t rags or a school uniform.

The convention wasn’t as bad as I thought. But I did wonder how he was able to afford merch from every booth. I wouldn’t be surprised if this came from all his dumpster diving. Then again, those were fun and so worth it when we found things in good condition. For the rest of the con, it was enjoyable to watch Deku get excited about every little thing. Since nobody from class usually traveled this far out, I was somewhat relaxed.

It was an hour before the panel event, the whole reason for the con. Which was when I noticed something. The damn nerd hasn’t eaten this whole time. Once he was done with yet another booth, I grabbed his bookbag and dragged him to the nearby food court we had passed. “Come on. There are so many more booths I haven’t seen yet.”

“Shut it, nerd. You gotta eat, too.” He huffed at me but didn’t fight back. As happy as I was that the con was finished, I can admit that I enjoyed myself. I even got myself a signed comic from the artist. Now, we were walking from the station. I slowed down enough that I was within arm's reach of Deku. “Don’t go home.”

“What do you mean?”  I didn’t say anything as we continued to walk. Just as we reached the corner where we usually split to go to our homes, I grabbed Deku’s bookbag again. I then dragged him to my house. “Are you sure about this?” I just pushed him inside.

…

I was speechless. Nothing could ever prepare me for what I had just witnessed. It was hard to back my tears as I sat at the table. “Happy Birthday!” Today really was amazing. Not only did Kacchan spend time with me without dealing with Kato and Saito. Kacchan's family held a surprise dinner for me. Moments like these gave me hope that Kacchan and I were still friends. Maybe it really was Kato and Saito's fault.

As I got ready to head home, Kacchan stood next to me. He then handed me a box. “Don’t open it until you’re alone. I know how your mom gets when you have something she didn’t give you.” As I took the small box, I happened to notice a shade of pink that crossed his cheeks. “Remember the rule.”

I couldn’t help but smile as hugged the box. “I know. Nobody will know how nice Kacchan really is.” He then pinched my cheek.

“Damn right.” With that, I headed home. There mom wished me another happy birthday before passing out in her room. I then went to my room and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, I went about opening Kacchan’s gift. To my surprise, it was a cellphone with an All Might case. There was also a note in the box. Kacchan truly is an amazing person. My hero.

[caitimetravels]

she’s insignificant

chapter 1: we only see each other at weddings and funerals

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters. 

warnings: mentions of death (rip reggie), mentions of overdosing

masterlist

we start our story in a lonely house. it was never quite the normal childhood house for the family that occupied it but it was definitely more lively than it was at the moment. she missed that. the house felt too big, too quiet. 

most people get the chance to move out when they grow up and that’s what the children of this house did. they weren’t comfortable in this house. she thought it was unfair. she never got the chance to grow up. she was stuck, trapped in the stupid house she could barely call home. maybe she could have had a wonderful life. met a nice man or woman, started a family. 

he stripped that life from her. tore it out of her grasp and toyed with her again. she was so sick of this life, she wanted an escape. 

she hated him. so why? 

why wasn’t she happy he was gone?

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

october 1st, 1989.

on the 12th hour of this day 43 women around the world gave birth. this was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day began.

sir reginald hargreeves. eccentric billionaire and adventurer. he resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

he got eight of them.

number 1 “luther”

the abnormally buff man steps out onto the moon, bouncing along to put his trash in the pile made before. he stares out at earth with a sad look. a beep on his arm breaks him out of his thoughts. he flips the material off his wrist, taking a look at the transmission sent to him.

number 2 “diego”

a masked man hurls the attacker into the wall, taking him out. he steps around the corner to help a scared family. “you’re family’s safe now” he goes to walk away, pausing at the tv. the news plays in front of him, stopping him short.

number 3 “allison”

a beautiful woman with curly highlighted hair steps onto the red carpet in an equally stunning red dress. she smiles and poses for the many cameras pointed her way. several reporters call out her name. it is then that one is whispered something. suddenly the questions change, they become more personal, asking about her father. a woman walks out and whispers something into her ear. her expression changes and they quickly walk away.

number 4 “klaus”

a man with short messy black hair jumps off a bed, saying his goodbyes to several other men in the room. he collects his things from a man through a window. he’s chucked a coin and he smiles giddily, looking rather happy to be out. immediately he goes back to buy drugs, consequently overdosing. he wakes up in an ambulance having been resuscitated. he notices the news, frowning.

number 7 “vanya”

the violinist beautifully playing to the empty theatre stops, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. she leaves, wandering down the street when she notices the news on a tv showing through the window. she whispers one word to herself, in disbelief. 

“dad..”

number 8 “y/n”

the h/c haired girl sat in an all too large library reading an anton chekhov play. she looks up at a small knock on the door. a chimpanzee dressed in a suit stands solemnly in the doorway. she raises and eyebrow, confused by his behaviour. he speaks softly, informing the girl of what her siblings were currently learning all over the city.

“oh..”

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

number eight. the demon. 

the same h/c girl stands in a line with her 7 other siblings. a younger vanya is asked to leave. they all avoid looking at her. she was different.. at least that’s what their father told them. eight didn’t understand it. she was different too and no one asked her to leave. 

as usual eight is pulled away from her siblings as they train together. she is taken to a separate room, one built for her. it’s plain and white, much like a cell in a mental asylum.. or at least what she imagined a mental asylum to look like from what she had read in stories.

she hates this room but she hides her emotions just like her father taught her to. 

“don’t let them control you, number eight” he scolded, “you should be in control”

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

the doors to the academy are slowly pushed open. vanya steps into the house, taking in how big the house was. it had been around 13 years since she’d been here. she took small steps through the large room, looking up at the chandelier. she turned towards the parlour where her mother sat by the fire. 

“hey mom” she called out softly. she received no answer. 

“she probably won’t answer” a new voice called out and vanya stepped further into the parlour to see her h/c haired sibling. she sat atop the bar, reading a book and not sparing her a glance. “she’s been lonely ever since you all left.. gone a bit weird i guess” 

vanya’s mouth fell open. how was she the same age? y/n hadn’t aged a day since they left. she was still in her 16 year old body. at her sister’s silence the h/c finally looked up.

“what?” she raised an eyebrow, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost” 

“vanya?” a voice sounded out from the stairs. the brown haired woman turned now spotting their other sister, allison. “you’re actually here..” she huffed, surprised but not at all disappointed.

“hey allison” vanya greeted carefully.

“hey sis” allison’s voice was soft as she walked over, offering a hug. their moment was ruined by diego.

“hah” he scoffed, “what is she doing here? you don’t belong here. not after what you did” he didn’t even look over at them, making his way towards the stairs.

“you’re seriously going to do this today?” allison asked in disbelief but diego only ignored her. “hmph, way to dress for the occasion by the way”

“at least i’m wearing black” he shot back, disappearing up the staircase.

“don’t mind him” the two girls turned towards y/n who now had her book tucked under her arm. “he’s just grumpy he had to come back”

“you know what.. no, um.. maybe he’s right” vanya shook her head, ready to leave. “i shouldn’t-”

“forget it” y/n stopped her, “he doesn’t matter.. i’m glad you came, all of you. even if you don’t want to be here.. i- i want you here” 

“i’m glad you’re here too” allison nodded, agreeing. y/n gave them a soft, small smile before moving away. the two older women shared a look as she disappeared. she had been lonely..

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

vanya stood near the bookcases, looking over the old umbrella academy comic books and articles. she looked through the books until she came across her own. gently pulling it from the shelf she eyed it over, hopeful. there were creases in the fold. she opened the cover, revealing her note to her father. 

pogo interrupted her, clearing his throat. she smiled, crossing the room to embrace him. he noticed the book she was holding.

“do you know um.. did he ever read it?” she seemed unsure, not wanting to know the answer she expected. slowly, pogo sighed,

“not that i’m aware of” he shook his head, “i’m afraid those creases are from ms y/n. she loved reading it when you first released it”

they both glanced over at the painting of number five. 

“how long has it been since five disappeared?” vanya asked, 

“it’s been 16 years-” pogo was interrupted.

“4 months and 14 days” they both turned to see y/n entering. she either didn’t notice or ignored their stares, moving across the room to grab a new book. 

“did you.. did you ever find him?” vanya breathed, waiting in suspense for the answer. y/n finally looked at them now, pausing. she had always told her father that she didn’t, that she couldn’t but maybe just maybe she did.

“..yeah”

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 27: You'll Never Walk Alone

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 4 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—missionary, scary situation, mild swearing, violence ❧ Word Count: 6.3k

❧ In This Chapter: On the road again, without a place to call home, you're struggling to survive with Daryl and Beth. Upon finding an abandoned funeral home, things begin to look up, and you find some much needed relief with Daryl before things go terribly wrong.

❧ A/N: You may or may not have noticed that I'm trying to include at least one sex scene in each "season," so I snuck in one just before the finale next chapter! I mean, is it the most opportune time to have sex? No. But... like, it's Daryl... so... can you blame her (aka you, I guess lmao)? Also it's my birthday today so I guess this is how I'm celebrating—posting smut about Daryl Dixon. Enjoy!

It was your lowest point since the farm fell.

The group was separated. You weren't sure who had split off with who, or if anyone even made it out alive, but you were sure of one thing: you, Daryl, and Beth made it out alive. Together.

By your calculations, five days had passed since the Governor ran you out of the prison. As far as you could tell, no one won that day. As you were running away, you were sure you saw Michonne kill the Governor, and you knew for a fact that you’d all killed most of his militia. Still, they destroyed the prison, ripped down its fences, and tore down the walls. The place you’d once called home was now home to the dead, and every hope you had was dwindling faster than when you lost your other homes.

At this point, you didn’t believe in the concept of “home” as a physical place. Home existed within Daryl, and now Beth, too.

The three of you wandered for days, with Beth insisting upon trying to track the others who she believed had to have escaped from the prison. Neither you nor Daryl were so sure.

It was odd, being the less hopeful one for once, but it also lifted a bit off of your shoulders. Beth was the one carrying the two of you, until she got her foot caught in a bear trap—then Daryl was the one carrying her.

She straddled his back piggyback style, while you watched with the most amusement you had in recent memory. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile too long.

Daryl panted with the weight of Beth on his back as the three of you approached an abandoned funeral home. To its credit, it didn’t look abandoned. The place was kept up so nicely it looked like it hadn’t been touched by the plague at all. Though Daryl did a thorough sweep of the place, he didn’t find anyone.

“It’s so clean,” Beth observed once inside.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed, holding his crossbow up high. “Someone’s been tendin’ to it.”

“They might still be around,” you suggested, peeking into the kitchen. “Looks like there’s plenty of food.”

Once you wrapped up Beth’s ankle, you and Daryl raided the pantry where you found even more food.

“Peanut butter and jelly,” Daryl said, “diet soda, and pig’s feet. That’s a white trash brunch right there.”

You smiled. “That sounds heavenly.”

Well, everything sans the pig's feet.

“Hold up,” Daryl said. “There ain’t a speck of dust on this… somebody just put it here. This is someone’s stash.”

“Maybe they’re still alive,” you said.

“All right,” he said, “we’ll take some of it and we’ll leave the rest, all right?”

You looked up at him in slight awe and adoration. He was so different from the rather selfish guy you met back at the quarry. He cared about other people, more than himself even. “Sounds good, Robin Hood," you said with a slight smile.

He scoffed, then dipped two fingers into the jar of jelly and sucked it clean. “Mmm,” he grunted.

“Gross!” Beth cried in mock disgust from her seat at the table where she rested her ankle.

You giggled at Daryl’s less than graceful eating habits. “Hey,” he said to you as you walked to the table, “those pig’s feet are mine.”

You held up your hands in defense, and Beth shook her head giggling. “They’re all yours,” you said.

The sun began to set, and you and Daryl started stringing up cans around the building as an alarm system. You chuckled a little to yourself as you tied the string around a column.

“What’s so funny?” Daryl asked, looking between you and the knot he was working on.

You shrugged. “Just thinking about how we haven’t done this since when we were on the road, before we found the prison… I sort of miss those times.”

He looked at you bewildered. “You miss it?”

You looked back at him. “Well, not really. I don't miss going from place to place... not having a home, being cold, worrying about Lori's baby..." You trailed off as you began to think about Judith, wondering if anyone was able to save her. Beth had tried, but she couldn't find her anywhere. "I guess I just miss the people… Carol, Rick, Glenn, Maggie… everyone.”

Daryl huffed and finished tying his knot before walking over to you. “Hey,” he said, lifting your chin up with his calloused fingers. “Maybe we’ll find ‘em. They could be out there, like us. Survivin'. Ain't impossible."

You tilted your head. “Has Beth’s optimism been rubbing off on you?”

He looked at you lovingly, like everything pure in this world was living in every nook and cranny of your sweet face. “Gotta keep us alive somehow.”

You leaned over to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a long, tender kiss. When your lips parted, you smiled at him with that same big bright smile that always brought him to his knees. “Did I ever tell you,” you asked, “that you’re the best chance I ever took?”

By nightfall, Daryl had boarded up every window and door (except for the front) on the first floor. After a “redneck feast,” you helped the injured Beth get into bed. Though there weren’t any beds in the house, there were plenty of comfortable coffins. It seemed ironic to you how much care went into making sure they were soft and warm for a stiff, cold corpse.

“She asleep?” Daryl asked you as you walked back into the dining room, dipping his fingers in the jelly and sucking on them again.

You shook your head in amusement as you picked up a spoon from the table and held it out to him. “Here,” you said. “Your fingers are gonna get all sticky if you keep doing that.”

He grunted and took the spoon, continuing to shovel the jelly into his mouth at a fast rate. You sat yourself down by him at the small table. The house was dark but the kitchen you sat in was illuminated by the small candles you found in the cupboards. It made sense they’d have a lot of candles, probably for vigils and things like that.

“She’s out like a light,” you said. “Pretty sure she was dozed off by the time she hit the pillow.” You thought for a moment, watching Daryl shove mounds of red jam into his mouth. “It was good we found this place. Maybe… maybe we could stay here a few days until she’s healed. If it’s safe, I mean.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up that this place could be a long-term thing. Daryl had boarded it up well, and there weren’t any walkers around as far as you could tell, but you’d gotten your hopes up too much in the past. It was all a pipe dream, the idea that you could settle down somewhere for the rest of your days. It was a good dream, as Daryl once told you, but it was impossible. You were starting to see that more clearly. Still, you hoped the funeral home would hold for a few days at least.

Daryl paused and looked down. “Maybe we stay here even longer,” he said, looking back up at you. “Settle down again, least for a while. It's the safest place we've found so far.”

You smiled at him sweetly. It was rare he was so optimistic without any insistence from you. You were sure Beth had rubbed off on him. “Really?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he grunted in response.

You thought for a moment. “And the people who were here first, what do we do if they come back?”

“We’ll just make it work.” You looked at him dumbfounded. “I mean, they may be nuts, but… maybe it’ll be all right.” He shrugged.

You closed your eyes and smiled. “If you think it could work, then it will work.” You stood up to kiss his hair, then began cleaning up the table a bit. Just seeing Daryl eating in a kitchen was enough to spark your domestic side.

After a few minutes of putting what was left of your food back in the cabinet, you heard the sound of the chair skidding along the tile, and soon after felt Daryl’s strong hands gripping your waist. He pressed his warm body tightly against your back and left sweet, sloppy kisses all over the junction of your neck and your shoulder. The slight tickle of his short, uneven beard was enough to make you giggle. “Daryl,” you sighed heavenly, “what are you doing?”

His hands migrated up to your breasts and began massaging them slowly. His lips brushed up against your ear as he whispered to you. “When was the last time we were alone, huh?"

His gruff southern accent sent a tidal wave through you, resulting in a warm tingling emanating from your core.

You thought for a moment, about the last time you were alone with Daryl. It was at the prison, of course, when you were in your cell. Before that, the last time you had sex was... just before things went wrong, the night before the excursion to the store where Zack died. Everything after that was almost like a blur. The walker attack, the murder, the sickness, the Governor...

"It's been a while," you said simply.

Though you loved Beth, it was exhausting trying to keep her safe. She was eager to learn how to defend herself, and she was better than she used to be, but you had a kind of motherly instinct with her, and that was taking a toll on you.

You suspected Daryl was having a hard time, too, what with trying to keep the both of you safe. You could defend yourself better than Beth, on account of being older and a bit more hardened, but he worried about you both constantly. He would never admit the emotional exhaustion he felt, or the burden that you knew he carried—the irrational belief that the Governor attacking the prison was somehow his fault.

He brought it up in passing, but you didn't need anymore clarification that that was weighing heavily on his mind.

"Too long," he said before bringing his lips to your cheek, tonguing his way to the corner of your mouth where he silently asked for entry.

You turned your head towards him so he could plunge his tongue into your mouth that always fit to his so perfectly. He continued massaging your breasts before slipping his hands beneath your button-up shirt and bra to paw at your bare breasts.

“Daryl…” you moaned between his kisses.

You'd been wanting Daryl for days, but of course it was something you had to keep putting in the back of your mind, what with the rather dire situation you were in, and the fact that there was a teenage girl with you twenty-four seven.

He removed one hand from your breasts and trailed it down to your crotch where he grabbed you gently but with enough force to elicit a whimper from you into his mouth. “You been wanting me?”

You sighed and caressed his face. “You know I have.”

Daryl might've been completely stressed out the past five days or so, but he was still as observant as ever. He noticed your occasional long stares at his tanned, muscular arms (to which he purposefully flexed them as if he didn't know you were watching him). He caught you on more than one occasion eying his package when he had to adjust it, or his ass when he bent over to make a fire, or his neck when he'd throw his head back to pour water down his throat, with transparent liquid streams coursing down the tense, rigid muscles.

Yeah, you were horny. You always were when you were around Daryl for too long. He had that effect on you, so much so you wouldn't notice until he'd point it out.

He pressed himself up against you tighter so you could feel the raging erection bulging through his jeans. “Can you feel what ya do to me?” he asked, a sense of desperation to his usually firm and decisive voice.

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the cock you'd been incessantly craving every night as you laid alone by the fire, with Daryl refusing to join you so he could keep watch over you and Beth like a hawk. You didn't even want to have sex in those situations, obviously. You just wanted to feel his body next to yours, warm and strong and familiar and sweet, every part of his gorgeous physique.

No matter how much he wanted to hold you like he used to at the prison, he had to be as alert as possible. It was his way of protecting you.

“You’re so hard, baby.” He rubbed himself roughly against your ass. You turned yourself around in his arms to feel his cock on your front where you wanted it so badly. You reached down and stroked his clothed cock, to which he let out a strained grunt. Your eyes widened when a thought occurred to you. “Do you—do you think we can do it without Beth noticing?”

If Beth heard you two having sex, or worse—walked in on the event, you would be mortified, and ashamed, and you knew Daryl would be, too. Beth was only seventeen, and although she certainly knew about sex, she didn't need to see that. It's an adults-only thing, you'd tell her whenever she'd ask about it.

Daryl scoffed before kissing you again and pinning you between himself and the edge of the countertop behind you. “She’s sleepin’,” he said. “You ain’t gonna be that loud, are ya?”

You giggled as you combed your fingers through his dark hair. It was getting so long you couldn’t help but play with it every chance you got. “I don’t know, you always make me scream.”

He growled as he lifted you up onto the counter and planted himself between your legs. “I’ll just cover your mouth if I gotta.”

You felt yourself getting wetter with each kiss as he started pulling your pants down. You heard the bundled up fabric land on the tile below you before he began rubbing you up and down over your soaked panties. “You’re so wet, baby girl. Is that for me?”

You smiled as he licked up your neck hungrily, and you rubbed his back in appreciation. “Yes, Daryl,” you moaned. “You’re the only one who does that to me.”

He lowered both hands down to your panties to pull them off you slowly. He stepped back from you and began unbuckling his belt, all the while licking his lips as he gazed down at your slick pussy.

You looked at him in a haze, but another thought echoed through your mind. “Daryl?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, angel?” His cock was free now and he returned to his place between your legs.

You ran your hands up and down his toned arms, exposed from the cutoff shirt he was wearing. “Are you going to pull out?”

The few condoms you had left since Daryl’s last find were back in your cell at the prison, and you knew he was scared he wouldn’t be able to pull out in time. Still, at this point, both of you would do anything to feel each other in the very intimate way that lovers expressed their adoration for one another.

He looked at you sweetly. “Gotta,” he said. “Don't really got any other options right now... you okay with that?”

You nodded your head and smiled widely. “Come here, stud.” He chuckled at your enthusiasm as you wrapped your legs around him, allowing his incredibly hard cock to rub against your bare pussy.

Groaning in appreciation, he brought his hand down to your clit and began rubbing it with his calloused fingers, still a little sticky from the jelly he was shoveling into his mouth. You held onto his broad shoulders tightly as he began to slowly insert himself into you. You were so wet with arousal that he slipped in easily, though with an incredibly satisfying friction. It was everything you'd been wanting, to feel that relief from the only person who could give that to you, the way he did it, the way he felt.

You threw your head back as if by instinct and moaned out to him. “Oh, Daryl,” you cried. He began pumping in and out of you with his fingers still rubbing up and down furiously against your throbbing clit. You thrusted your core back and forth against him to increase the amazing feeling.

He grunted into the crook of your shoulder, breathing heavily and already beginning to sweat from the movement. “God, (Y/N),” he panted.

He thrusted harder into you, sending shockwaves through your body. “Ah!” you cried. Daryl lifted his head from your shoulder and looked you in the eyes with a longing lust you hadn't seen in a while.

“Keep it down, sweetheart,” he said between thrusts. He hated telling you to be quiet. He loved your sounds of pleasure so much, it was enough to make him finish on their own, but you had to be practical. It wasn’t as safe anymore to be loud.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered. “Keep going, please.”

Daryl kissed you as he began pumping into you again, his hips hitting into yours at the perfect rhythm. Combined with the pressure of Daryl’s deep penetration, the consistent rubbing on your clit was beginning to send familiar vibrations through you.

“Oh,” you moaned. “Daryl…”

“You gonna come, princess?” he asked, increasing the pressure of his fingers circling your clit. You clung to him so tightly as he caused you to bounce up and down with his increasingly forceful hits into you.

“Y-yes… oh, God.”

Daryl reached the hand that wasn’t massaging your clit up to your agape mouth. “Don’ want ya wakin’ the neighbors,” he teased.

You closed your eyes with his hand covering your mouth as you began inching closer and closer to your orgasm. The shocks were becoming more and more intense and coursing through you in longer, more blissful bursts until you hit the peak of your pleasure.

You let out muffled groans into Daryl’s hand as he slowed down a bit to focus on drawing out your orgasm with his hand on your clit. You uncontrollably rolled your hips up into him as you slowly rode out your high.

Your walls fluttered around Daryl’s cock, causing him to be drawn closer to his own orgasm. The soft, warm enclosure of your convulsing pussy was enough to make him come right there, but he wanted to see how long he could hold out in his cock’s favorite place.

He uncovered your mouth when you stopped moaning, leaving you a panting, whimpering mess with your back bent forwards and your head resting lazily on Daryl’s shoulder, your arms tossed loosely around his neck as you caught your breath.

Pulling out of you briefly, Daryl reached his fingers down to scoop up the clear liquid that was slowly leaking out of you. He looked down at his soaked fingers and smiled. “That’s my girl,” he said before leaving sweet kisses on your neck. He began rubbing your juices all over your still sensitive clit, eliciting a series of small groans from you.

You removed your head from its cradle and looked Daryl in the eye. “Get back inside me,” you whispered demandingly.

He smirked before planting an open-mouthed kiss on your lips, devouring every bit of your sweet mouth that he could. “Yes, ma’am.”

He brought the tip of his cock up to the entrance of your soaking pussy, pushing himself in until he reached the hilt. You gasped at the amazing feeling of him filling you so fully, the way only he could.

He began thrusting into you faster than he did before, this time trying to get to his own high. He hit into you so hard you hit your head on the overhead cabinet behind you a few times, but you could hardly feel it when there was so much bliss emanating from your core.

“Oh, baby,” you sighed, moving your hands down to his ass to help shove him further up into you. “I love your cock, Daryl.”

He looked down between your bodies to watch his cock slide in and out of you effortlessly. “I love your pussy, princess.”

You purposefully clenched yourself around his length, causing the first drops of his arousal to expel from his tip. “Oh, oh (Y/N),” he panted. “I’m gonna come.”

You looked at him seriously, trying to let go of him a bit so he could take himself out. “Pull out, sweetie,” you reminded him, combing through his hair lovingly.

He nodded, pulling himself out just in time to start feeling the shocks of his orgasm running through his shaft. You reached down and grabbed his aching cock. You stroked him up and down slowly, almost teasingly. He wrapped his arms around you and let you do with him what you wanted.

Back at the prison, the first place you and him were allowed to be a real couple and to further explore each of your desires, he'd be able to rid himself of the day's frustration of being a reluctant leader by coming to you at night and enjoying every ounce of your sweet, warm love you'd give to him. It made him feel so wanted and adored, and in turn it made him feel a kind of relief to give his love to you.

He missed that, among so much more that he found at the prison—a sense of home, a community of people who respected him, a position of authority and control that did appeal to him, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it. Most of all, though, he missed the warm, adoring world of love and affection he'd created with you. It was like he could have a piece of that here, in this little funeral home, making love to you.

Rubbing your thumb over his tip, he started thrusting into your hand as the white liquid began spraying out in rapid bursts onto your thigh. He buried his head into your shoulder. “Ah!” he cried.

You kept pumping him until there was nothing left coming out of him. His cock kept twitching as if begging to release more, but he was dry now. You let go of his shaft and wrapped your arms around his broad back to trace the pattern of the angel wings on his vest. “Good boy,” you teased, rubbing his back up and down.

He scoffed as he still had his face buried in your shoulder. “Shut up.”

You giggled. “You felt so good, honey.”

He lifted his head and looked into your eyes. “So did you.” He caressed your face, then brought it closer to his to share in a slow, passionate kiss. “Your head okay?”

You smiled. He must’ve noticed your head hitting into the cupboards. “It’s fine,” you said. He brought his hand up to rub the back of your head, his fingers entangling in your hair every once in a while.

The two of you remained in a tight embrace for a while until Daryl bent over to pick up your panties and put them back on you. You beamed down at him as he kissed your legs with every inch the fabric caressed you until they were back around your waist. “What a gentleman,” you cooed. “I like this side of you.”

He rolled his eyes while rubbing your clothed pussy. “Watch it, girl.”

You giggled as he scooped his hands underneath your ass and lifted you off the counter. You reached down to his still naked ass and kneaded his cheeks roughly. He smirked at you. “What’s with you and my ass?” he asked amused.

You shrugged. “Nicest butt I’ve ever seen,” you said, squeezing the soft skin. You felt him playfully flex his ass, eliciting a chuckle from you. “You could bounce a nickel off this thing.”

He shook his head. “My crazy woman.”

Somehow, you ended up falling asleep on Daryl’s lap as he sat in one of the dining room chairs. With your arms wrapped around his waist, and your head resting on his shoulder, he let you sleep there for a good half an hour before he heard the rattling of the cans on the string the two of you set up.

This woke you up, too. You exchanged a worried look with Daryl just before he lifted you up off of him and reached for his crossbow. “Stay with Beth,” he said.

Making your way into the parlor where Beth was sleeping, you woke her up gently. “Wh-what?” she asked sleepily.

You started helping her out of the coffin she was asleep in. “Walkers.”

Dozens of them, too. When Daryl opened the door to investigate, the entire porch was flooded with them. He tried using his body to slam the door shut again, but there were too many walkers pushing against the door for his body weight to do anything.

“(Y/N)! Beth!” you heard him shout.

You took a hold of Beth’s hand and ran back out to the foyer where Daryl was struggling to keep the walkers at bay. “Run!” he yelled.

You froze for a moment, your eyes wide enough to give meaning to the phrase “deer in the headlights.”

“Run!” he yelled again, more insistently this time.

Pulling away from the door, Daryl lifted his crossbow and began shooting as much as he could until he had to run, pushing you and Beth back into the kitchen and through several other rooms to escape the oncoming herd that followed. “(Y/N)!” he called to you. “Pry open a window! Get your shit!”

Your hands were interlocked with Beth as you ran through the huge, dark house. “We’re not leaving you!” you cried back.

“Go out, go up the road!” he yelled. “I’ll meet you there.” You stopped in your tracks in front of the nearest window, then looked back at Daryl as he led the walkers away from the two of you. “Go!”

You froze, watching his face and body disappear into the dark basement stairwell. “Daryl!” you screamed helplessly.

Beth began tugging at your hand. “Come on, (Y/N)!”

You turned to her, shaking your head as you came back to reality. You looked around frantically to find something to break through the wood slats Daryl had installed earlier. Squinting your eyes to see a small old-fashioned television set, you picked it up swiftly and threw it with all your might out the window, breaking the glass and the wood to free up an exit.

“Go,” you said sternly to Beth.

She looked at you incredulously. “What about you?!” she cried.

You reached for your axe as you looked over at the herd following Daryl down the stairs. “Daryl and I will meet you on the road, I can’t leave him. You go, you run and don’t stop till you get there, you understand me?”

She nodded to you, her eyes full of fear but also of understanding. “We’ll be right there,” you reassured her. “Now go!”

Once you were sure Beth had escaped, you began your attempt to keep some of the walkers off Daryl. “Hey!” you yelled to them. “Hey, over here!” You backed up in preparation for the walkers who now turned their attention towards you.

Plunging your axe into several heads, you thinned out the crowd by at least half. Descending into the basement, you stumbled upon a huddle of walkers cornering Daryl. Much to your relief, he was fighting back, stabbing several walkers and crawling underneath them to get behind them and trap them in with a metal operating table.

You ran to his side and took his hand. You could tell he was frowning at you, probably angry you didn’t do as he said, but there wasn’t any time to argue. The two of you ran back up the stairs, getting rid of a few more stragglers as you went.

“Where’s Beth?!” he yelled to you as you both ran out of the house and towards the road, a few more walkers following you.

“She got out, went to the road like you said.”

Approaching the road, you began to falter as you set your eyes on Beth’s backpack lying open on the asphalt. When you got close enough, you heard the screeching of tires and saw taillights out of the corner of your eye.

Looking up, a car with a white cross painted on its back window was driving away from you. “Beth!” you and Daryl yelled to the car, running as fast you both could to try to catch up with it, though you knew it was futile.

“Beth!”

When morning came, the two of you were still running, with Daryl having to put his hand on your back every once in a while to keep you stable. At some point, you weren’t sure how long after you started running, neither of you could run anymore. You walked, out of breath and out of hope. There was no way you could catch up with that car. Wherever it had gone, it would have definitely turned at some point, and there was no way of knowing what direction went in.

As if in silent agreement, you both stopped in front of the train tracks, covered in sweat and panting like dogs. Daryl looked around frantically before dropping his crossbow in defeat, then dropping himself to the ground. You followed suit, except you laid yourself down while Daryl sat.

Looking up at the overcast autumn sky, you silently cried as you remembered Beth’s fearful face when you told her to leave. The thought of someone taking her, doing God knows what with her, it devastated you. The worst part was that there was nothing you could think to do.

A while passed, you couldn’t tell how long, until you sat yourself up and planted yourself next to Daryl. There were no words shared between you, just a feeling of loss, of failure. You failed Beth. You couldn’t think of any other way to describe what had happened. You failed her.

Sitting in silence for what felt like ages, Daryl suddenly grabbed your thigh when he heard what he knew to be several footsteps approaching. Neither of you looked up, but you knew a group of people was coming towards you.

“Well, look at here,” a calm male voice said from above you. Daryl only glanced up at him briefly, but you looked up wide-eyed, staring him in the face in the hopes that he’d take pity on you and leave the two of you alone.

Though you knew it wasn’t safe to be in such a small group of two, it was better it was just the two of you than a hostile group of men. True, you didn’t know what their intentions were, but you had learned from your time in this world that people were either evil or ambivalent, there wasn’t really an in-between.

Your gaze turned around to the several other men who now circled the two of you. There were six in total, and they all looked to be middle-aged or getting there. Most of them were burly and bearded, with large guns and one with a standard bow and arrow.

It occurred to you that they looked kind of like a biker gang, sans bikes. In another life, Daryl might’ve been in their gang. He looked like he could fit in with them. You, on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only were you the only woman surrounded by six macho-looking men, you looked meek and unaccustomed to this world. Though you had proven yourself to be a capable fighter and survivor, you always did look like a librarian.

The man who spoke looked to be the oldest, and seemed to be the leader as well. He had gray hair and wore cowboy boots and a denim vest. When he stepped forward towards you and Daryl, you flinched as Daryl suddenly lunged upwards and socked the man in the face before grabbing your hand to lift you, then reaching for his crossbow and pointing it at the man as he lay on the ground.

You reached your hand down to your axe, but you looked around warily to notice the five guns on both you and Daryl.

“Damn it, hold up!” the gray-haired man on the ground yelled to the others.

“I’m claimin’ the vest,” one of the men’s voices from behind you rang out. “I like them wings.”

You turned your head to glare at him from the side. It was the man with the bow. He gave you a shit-eating grin. You weren’t sure about the others yet, but you knew you didn’t like him.

“Hold up,” the leader repeated, still on the ground and wiping the blood away from his nose. He smiled as he looked at the blood on his hand, then began laughing wildly. Daryl kept his bow trained on him, not letting up for one second.

“A bowman,” he said, raising himself back to his feet. “And a little lady.” He tilted his head to look at the axe looped onto your belt. “With an axe.” He smiled at you. “I respect that,” he said. “See, a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman’s a bowman, through and through… and an axewoman…” He studied your face closely. “Well, I’ve never met an axewoman before.” His eyes lowered to your axe, which you still had your grasp on in case you needed to use it. “What kind of axe is that, anyway?”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, not making a sound.

He huffed and moved his eyes back to Daryl. “What do you got there, 150-pound draw weight? I’ll be donkey-licked if that don’t fire at least 300 feet per second.” Daryl stayed silent, the arrow cradled in his bow just a matter of inches away from the man’s face. “I’ve been looking for a weapon like that. ‘Course I’d want one with a bit more ammo and, uh, minus the oblongata stains.”

The obnoxious bowman behind you laughed. “Get yourself in some trouble, partner?” he asked Daryl teasingly.

“You pull that trigger,” the leader said seriously, “these boys are gonna drop you and your woman several times over. That what you want?”

Daryl kept his crossbow up, not faltering one second. “Name’s Joe,” the leader said.

You kept an eye on Daryl for his next move. For all your ingenuity, he was the better strategist. If he had a plan to get out of this, you could pick it up fast enough to go along with it. You just hoped it didn’t involve getting “dropped several times over.”

When he finally lowered his crossbow, you had to stop yourself from audibly sighing in relief. “Daryl,” he said in that same old gruff voice you knew so well, but with that hint of distrust in his tone. From all the time you spent with him, you not only could read his expressions better, but his various tones of voice became like genres of music you could distinguish by listening to just one note.

Joe nodded, then looked over to you. You exchanged a glance with Daryl before he nodded to you, giving you silent permission to introduce yourself. It wasn’t that you needed his permission, but that you wanted to make sure this was part of his plan, whatever it was. “(Y/N),” you said quietly, barely above a mumble.

When the men lowered their weapons, you audibly sighed in relief this time.

You had no idea where the men were going, if they were even going anywhere, but you didn’t have enough curiosity to ask. As you and Daryl followed along with their group, the two of you lingered shoulder to shoulder towards the back to whisper to each other.

“What are we doing, Daryl?”

He leaned closer to you and whispered back. “Checkin’ them out,” he said, “Seein’ where they’re goin’. Might lead us somewhere we wanna be.”

You shook your head. “We should be looking for Rick and the others. There’s got to be a place we could meet up at, some kind of landmark.”

“Nah,” he said. “This is right. Trust me. We’ll find them.”

You looked at him confused, then full of fear. “I trust you, I don’t trust them.”

“Won’t let ‘em hurt ya, just stay by me. Always.”

You smiled at him, then looked back down at your feet as you trudged onward, only a few yards behind the rest of the group.

“We should catch up, so they don’t get suspicious,” you said.

He nodded, then laced his hand around yours tightly. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Long as you’re with me.”

Daryl knew he could never promise you complete safety, so he always felt a little disingenuous when he said things like that. What had happened with Beth at the funeral home, that terrified him because it could have been you, too, who was taken if you’d gone with her. In that moment, he was thankful for your stubbornness.

“I know,” you said. “We’ll be fine.”

~

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[maximwtf]

“Let’s stay calm.”

                                        Almond 

words: 1919

google docs pages: 4

warnings: Bleeding, getting hurt

Opening: Almond and the reader are both detectives and on a case together. They end up in a battle with the foe, and without noticing the enemy attacks you. You get badly injured by this.

/AN/ This is a human AU, since it's easier to write for humans. Though they can still use magic aka have healers etc.

Not prove read!

                                    “Let’s stay calm.”

You were both in a dark alley. The only noise that you were able to hear was water falling in puddles from the roofs of houses. The blue lamps illuminated the dark alley with dark blue light, and made the now grey brick walls show up. There were wood signs pointing to different directions from the lamps. The darkness made it impossible to read what the signs said. Through the noises of water dropping, you heard Almond’s shoes hitting the stone tile path. He hasn’t said a word since you entered the alley, and you understood why. There was a criminal on the loose, and you two had been assigned to catch the bastard. 

You quickened your steps to make it next to the other detective. Even though you weren’t scared of the dark alley, you didn’t want to walk behind Almond. It was safer to stay together. Your gaze wandered off to him. He looked calm and collected like every time you had worked with him. In fact you were with him in every case, since he was your working partner. 

You wanted to start a conversation with Almond, to ease the tense environment, but you knew that he wouldn’t like that. He wasn’t one to talk a lot while on serious cases like this. For him it was more important to stay quiet, so it was easier to hear the smallest noises of any movement near you two. 

As you kept walking further in the quiet alley, the environment got even more tense. While you were in your thoughts to calm your mind, Almond seemed to have spotted something. He didn’t say anything, but quite harshly elbowed you on your upper arm to indicate to you that the foe was around the corner. You let out a little ‘huh-’ before turning your head to the direction Almond was looking at. Before the person started to run back where they had come from, you were able to see what they were wearing. Due to the darkness you only saw the outline of the criminal, but you could see a long coat with a collar and a hat with a long brim that made a pitch black shadow that covered the foe’s face completely. “This’ll be quick. After them!” Almond stated, and without another word he started to run after the foe, with his cape flinging behind him. The alley seemed to be a circle, or that's what it at least looked like. You decided to be sly and go the other way, so that if Almond didn’t catch the criminal, you’d meet them halfway, and catch them! 

You headed to the next alley, and ran as fast as you could. There were no sounds or noises around you, just your steps on the hard stone tiles. Soon you stopped since the alley you were running in came to an end, and turned to the left. Being alone you didn’t want to risk going any further. You had started to feel like this wasn’t a circle since you had run so far already.

 As you were about to turn around and go back to where you and Almond had been separated, someone ran behind you and stabbed you on your shoulder with something sharp. You let out a hissy scream, and collapsed on to your knees. The shadowy person didn’t let out a sound, but they seemed to be out of breath from running. This indicated that the person who had stabbed you was the criminal Almond had ran after. They hit your back with the back of the item they had stabbed you with a couple times to make you collapse fully. Then the criminal lurking under the flowy clothing in the shadows seemed to hear the steps of Almond, and started to take off. You tried to get up even though the pain, that was going around your whole body, but it was no use. You hissed in pain again, and with your non hurt arm tried to see how much you were bleeding. With the dim light from the blue lanterns hanging on top of you, you saw how your hand was covered in wine red blood. The stone tiles under your knees were all painted red as well. Even though the panicked attack, the foe seemed to have hit you in a critical spot.

While your shoulder was flowing down blood, you tried to support your upper body up with your free arm. With your body shaking  you tried to call for almond, not knowing how far he was. “Almond!” You hissed in pain. Before you knew it, you heard the steps of your partner. He came from behind the corner that was near you, and then ran next to you, kneeling down. “Let’s stay calm. What happened..” He tried to calm you down, also trying to stay calm himself. He wasn’t the type to get shocked easily. He had thick skin, and that is why he was a detective, he was made for this job. But seeing you, his partner hurt, was challenging him. “ah...They got me when I turned around..” You grind your teeth together, to maybe ease the pain a little. “They ran that way..” You nodded in the direction. “As if I'd still go after them..” He murmured, and moved you against the wall to rest. “We need to find a healer for this..” Almond said when he had seen the amount of blood you had already lost. He furrowed his brows when he saw the amount of pain you were in. Clutching your other hand in a fist and grinding your teeth as the waves of pain hit you every other second. “And we need to find one quick.” The detective stated firmly, as he carefully lifted you up from the tiles. “Does this hurt too much?” He asked as he took a few steps. You barely shook your head, as you were starting to lose consciousness. When you started to get limp in his arms, he started to quicken his steps, to get out of the alley as soon as possible.

Through the tile and brick alleys you had walked together in, he carried you through with worry on his face. Because he was alone, he let this show through freely. He was still out of breath after running behind the now lost criminal, but even though that he kept walking forward. The dim blue light guided the way back from the alley. He set you down in the car, not caring if the shiny clean seats got stains from the blood. As he was starting the car, his mind was filled with the worst case scenarios. When the car finally started, he wiped his forehead and quickly drove to Herb's house. 

He quickly parked the car, and took you in his arms once more. Herb was thankfully in the front yard, watering his flowers so he saw you two quickly. “Oh gosh, come in quick!” He exclaimed without a question. The sight of you unconscious in Almond’s arms said enough. The two of them hurried in the house, and Almond set you on the couch. The detective himself moved to the kitchen, since he didn’t dare to keep looking at the sight of you unconscious. He had never seen you so emotionless, and it wasn’t something he had ever even wanted to see. 

Herb started to slowly heal your arm, and then the bruises on your back. The wound on your shoulder started to heal, and close up. The bruises on your back were easier to heal up, since they weren’t anything serious. Herb looked at you sadly as he walked up to Almond in the kitchen. He didn’t want to ask what had happened since the poor detective already looked harsh enough. “Do you want a coffee?” Herb offered kindly. Almond only nodded, looking towards the couch you were laying on. Herb sighed as he saw how saddened Almond seemed to be. After that he went to brew coffee for Almond and some tea for him. 

Herb had been able to start some kind of a conversation with Almond to get his mind off of you, and it was going well so far. Almond wasn’t talking all too much, but still clearly listening to what Herb was talking about. 

You stirred a little, and opened your eyes slowly. The pain was mostly gone, and only a headache was left behind. You sat up and lifted an arm on your head. “Where am I…” You muttered, as you started to look around. There were a lot of flowers in pots all around the living room, and large windows that showed a big garden with more flowers. Those were the only major notes you were able to make before Almond had spotted that you were awake. Suddenly what Herb was telling him about his flowers didn’t matter at all, all he cared about was how you were doing. He rushed to your side and kneeled down a little. “Are you feeling any better?” The detective asked. “Surely better, my head just hurts like hell. Other than that I'm good. If I may ask, where are we?” You moved your gaze to your partner. “At Herb’s house. He was the first person I could think of when I had to think of a healer for you…” Almond said as the worry that had been on his face started to fade away. “Shall we get going. I’ll drive you home and then make the report for today myself. You don’t have to do that anymore.” Almond stated and offered his hand to you. You took it and stood up. As you two started to walk towards the door you wobbled a little. Almond noticed this and took a hold of you. “I’ll walk you to the car.” He stated, and did that. When he closed the car door, Herb walked towards the car. “Are they doing better?” He asked while tilting his head. Almond opened the driver's side’s door and before sitting down replied. “Much better, thanks to you.” Herb smiled, “Any time.” 

Almond started the car and started to drive towards your house. “I’m sorry for messing up, they were in front of me and I did nothing..” You muttered, while looking at your hands. Almond huffed. “None of this should you be sorry about. They got away this time but we'll catch them.” He replied as he pulled up to your house. “You go and rest now, I'll come and pick you up tomorrow. And don’t worry about the report.” He said. You only nodded at his kindness towards you and got out of the car. Almond made sure you made it in your house, before he started to drive away.

AN: First ever Cookie run kingdom fanfic- I downloaded the whole game because of this character and i recently caught him! I love fanfics where the reader gets hurt so I decided to make one with Almond! I truly hope you liked this!

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 4 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary after waking from a taunting nightmare, tommy expels some late night energy on some wandering mobs. you give him another lesson about taking care of himself, even when working hard, and tommy asks if you’ll teach him archery, which, of course, doesn’t go without entertainment.

warnings nightmares, mob killing

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gif cred belongs to @halcyoncraft

he was running again. he didn’t know where or from what, but his legs carried him far and strongly, weaving him through trees and grass and other obstacles along the way. he didn’t know how in danger he was, but he wasn’t going to stop and find out.

then he tripped.

when he flipped onto his back, it was that goddamn mask staring down at him, the lips just under it laughing, “you’re so weak, tommy! did you do anything while you were in neutral?” then his axe came down and tommy braced himself for the pain and release of death.

he woke up instead.

sweating under his covers, tommy sucked in a harsh breath as he sat up. he threw the soft cotton off of him, running a warm hand down his face. it was just a dream; he was safe in neutral.

looking out of the window next to him, he saw the moon still high in the sky, casting a cool light into his bedroom. dream’s words rang through his head like a bell, and he rubbed at his temples with a sigh. was he actually getting weak? was relaxing such a bad thing? at the very least, some part of him must have thought so to conjure a nightmare like that..

with another sigh, tommy lifted himself out of bed and flipped open the ender chest. he drew out his sword before heading to the main floor of the house.

when he reached the bottom of the stairs, a voice called out to him, “tommy?” his heart nearly stopped for a moment, before peeking into the kitchen and realizing it was just y/n. she sat in candlelight, writing in a small journal with a slice of half-eaten pumpkin pie next to her. “are you alright?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his voice still heavy with sleep. “just gonna go kill some mobs.”

she nodded. she looked tired, and a part of tommy felt bad knowing that she was most definitely going to wait for him to return. “okay. have at it, kid.”

he nodded, turning to leave the kitchen. before he did so, he pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder to y/n. “you should go to bed.”

she gave him a smile, scribbling something down in the small journal. “i will, tommy. just gotta finish this up..” his natural curiosity was drawn to the small book, and he almost asked y/n what she was writing. but then dream’s voice rang through his mind again, and tommy silently headed for the doors of the house.

the night air was refreshing on his warm skin, cool and still as the moon illuminated the frontal beauty of neutral territory. he took a deep, calming breath of that crisp air before focusing on the task at hand: proving to himself that dream was wrong. that dream is always wrong.

after about twenty zombies, ten spiders, countless creepers, and a few endermen, tommy finally felt the burn in his arms become nearly too much to bear. he panted as he struck down one last spider, turning and finally deciding to return back to the comfort of y/n’s home.

he sheathed his sword when he finally entered the house, going straight to the kitchen to see that y/n was still awake and writing in her small journal.

“ready to go to bed?” he asked gruffly.

she looked up slowly before nodding, placing her quill down and capping her ink. “any trouble out there?”

“no,” he spoke, shaking his head. “wrote everything you needed to?” y/n blew out her candle and went to join the boy in the doorway to the kitchen.

“as much as i could, anyway,” she shrugged, smiling lazily as they began to walk toward the stairs. “what was your nightmare about?”

tommy was slightly startled, but a little too tired to react drastically to y/n’s deduction. “how’d you know i had a nightmare?”

“i’ve had them before,” she said simply. “and it seemed natural that you’d expel some energy onto mobs after such a thing.”

“you’re smart,” tommy credited.

“thank you,” y/n yawned.

they continued to climb the stairs in silence as tommy considered his words. “i was being hunted by dream again, but this time you weren’t there to save me. he called me weak and killed me.”

“so you wanted to prove to yourself that despite allowing yourself peace, you didn’t have to sacrifice your strength to get there,” y/n summed.

the boy half-smiled. she was spot on, as always. “exactly,” tommy breathed. 

y/n was silent for a moment as she thought. they stopped at the hallway to tommy’s room and it then occurred to tommy’s tired mind that her room was downstairs; she was walking with him because she cared about him. 

“honestly, tommy, if this is a real concern for you, then there is no harm in taking time out of your day to work out and train,” y/n spoke. “but the most important thing is to recognize when enough is enough, and when enough becomes too much. you’ve allowed yourself peace and care for the last two weeks, and achieving such a state doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice fighting or training; it just means that you need to be more aware and in tune with yourself as you’re doing it.” tommy nodded.

“don’t overwork yourself, is the summary here,” she said, picking a cobweb off of his shirt. “let yourself do the things you want, but make sure it’s not wearing you down. that’s taking care of yourself.”

“alright,” tommy spoke quietly. “thank you, y/n.”

“of course, kid,” she smiled. “get some sleep, alright? if you have another nightmare you’re free to bother me.” tommy nodded again. “good night, tommy.”

“good night, y/n,” he yawned as she turned to head down to her room. he made sure he heard her door shut before finally heading to his own room.

...

“can you teach me archery?” tommy questioned the next morning at breakfast. it was a question that had bugged him since y/n had first revealed her skills just a few days prior, and since he was going to start training, he figured that might be a good place to start.

“sure,” she chuckled as she scooped some more fruit onto his nearly half-eaten plate of french toast.

“why the laugh?” he questioned through a mouthful of berries.

she shrugged to herself. “your curiosity is showing.”

“i’ve been wondering about it since you took out the mob,” tommy admitted. “if i want to get stronger.. i think this is a good way to.”

“perfecting a skill is the perfect way to get stronger,” y/n voiced. “of course i’ll teach you, kid.” she smiled and he turned back to his breakfast with his own grin. “finish up your food and meet me in the basement; we gotta get you a bow first.”

tommy hadn’t been in the basement of the house yet. he opened the heavy, dusty trapdoor and assumed y/n didn’t go down their often either. he slid down the ladder easily and was immediately hit with heat.

y/n had a welding station upstairs in her shop area, but the basement had a more broad and intense version of that area. several anvils, all cracked and rusted and adorned with different materials were scattered in a sort of pattern amongst the space, a fire burning high in a fireplace at the far side of the room. seeing no sign of y/n, tommy moved to the room to his left.

the next room held a large nether portal, as well as a small farm for netherwart. the dark room felt empty to him, and he had to remind himself that he was in fact in y/n’s house still. he remembered she had said that she didn’t like going to the nether.

“i’m in here, tommy!” she called out. he took another left into a small storage room, where y/n was rustling through a chest. “how tall are you, kid?”

“6’1”,” he answered.

y/n smiled. “you’re a lot taller than i’ll ever be.” she took out a pretty oak bow, slightly scratched and obviously old. “you’ll have to use this for now, until i can make you one that’s your size.” he took the bow from her hands, shrugging.

“it’s fine.”

“good,” she hummed, still shuffling through the chest as tommy took the time to look around the small room.

“what’re the dispensers for?” tommy asked, staring at the wall that held the three stone tools.

“im nothing if not prepared, tommy,” y/n spoke as she took out a quiver and began to fill it with arrows for him. “in case of emergency, those dispensers will set off flares to let others know that im in trouble or that neutral is in danger.”

tommy nodded, still looking at the obviously unused dispensers. “smart.”

“i hope so,” she sighed, handing him the quiver of arrows. he strapped it around himself as she continued, “let’s just hope i never have to use them, yeah?”

“yeah,” he chuckled. she gave him a smile, hoisting her bow higher in her grip.

“you ready to shoot some things?”

...

“relax your shoulders,” y/n reminded. tommy did so, his fingers still white with effort against the taut string of the bow. “don’t pull so hard, tommy. you’re shaking.” he sighed as he let the string and arrow go limp, lowering his bow as y/n approached him closer.

it was his second day of archery training, and he was still missing nearly every target. y/n was a calm and collected teacher, offering him advice that was pointed directly for him and reassured him that there was no rush in the learning process. but after missing fifteen or so shots in a row, tommy was getting frustrated.

and it didn’t help with sapnap and george staring at him through the kitchen windows.

“doin’ great, kid,” sapnap encouraged weakly, taking a drink of the lemonade y/n had lovingly prepared for the boys. just watching the older man sip made tommy’s mouth dry, but he was determined to make five shots in a row before taking a break.

tommy glared at the man before turning his gaze back to his mentor. “ignore him, tommy,” y/n spoke gently. “nick couldn’t hit a target if it was three paces away.”

“that’s a lie!”

“im kidding,” y/n laughed, placing a hand on tommy’s shoulder and turning him away from the distraction that was sapnap. “but seriously, there’s almost always going to be someone watching when you shoot. the more you can tune them out, the better. just focus on your aim--and make sure your grip is looser. you’re gonna snap that string in no time otherwise.”

“loose grip, focus on aim,” tommy breathed and she patted his shoulder as he turned back to the target ahead of him. he hoisted the bow up slowly and pulled the string back just enough that it wasn’t fully taut. he made sure his aim was a little higher than his target, and released the whizzing arrow. the arrow pierced just outside of the center ring.

“perfect,” y/n smiled. “now, do it again.” and he did, taking another deep breath and allowing himself to focus in on the feel of the rough wood on his fingertips, and the tight string he was pulling. the arrow hit just beside his last. she nodded encouragingly. “keep going.”

tommy could feel his heart start to thump in his chest from the excitement of his accurate aim. he took another calming breath and watched as the arrow lodged closer to the center.

“great aim,” she complimented and he grinned as he pulled another one back, trying to contain his shaking as he aimed. the arrow shot lower than his previous, but on the target nonetheless. “still a good shot. one more?”

“yeah,” tommy nodded, licking his dry lips as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver. heart still thumping with utter excitement and pride at y/n complimentary words, he quickly released the arrow and his smile dropped as the arrow lodged into the ground before the target.

“hey, that’s fine!” y/n assured as tommy groaned and dropped his head. “four in a row is an amazing improvement, tommy. you should take a break and reward yourself.”

tommy sighed, looking to the shameful arrow. “yeah. alright.” he dropped the bow to the ground along with his quiver. he looked to his slightly splintered fingers. “im gonna go.. wash up.”

“alright,” y/n smiled as tommy scampered away. she entered into the open kitchen, smiling at her guests. “you boys doing alright?”

they nodded. “when did you take up parenting, y/n?” george giggled. she rolled her eyes as she went to pour her and tommy their own glasses of lemonade. “no, seriously! you care for that kid a lot, it-it’s not a bad thing!”

she sighed, leaning against her counter as she sipped at her lemonade. “i know you two haven’t always agreed with him in the past, but i think tommy’s a good kid. i like his ethic, and i think he has a lot of potential. but that being said..” she shook her head. “he’s so young.” the boys nodded. “he’s been thrown into such a life of chaos and destruction, and im not saying he’s at all innocent, but.. i think it’s good for him to learn that there’s more to this world than just war and enemies. there’s...”

“neutral,” sapnap finished for her. she let out a laugh.

“yeah, neutral,” she agreed, tapping her fingers against her cold glass. “but, yeah, if teaching him peace and self care is motherly of me..” she shrugged. “then i guess im alright with being a parent.”

“that’s sweet,” sapnap nodded. “i hate it.” the three of them laughed, y/n laying a light slap on the man’s arm before tommy’s voice called out to her.

“y/n! can i have some help?”

“im coming!” she called back, setting down her glass of lemonade.

“go help your poor son,” george teased, resting his head in his hand as he gazed at y/n amusedly. she rolled her eyes.

“behave, you two,” she laughed before leaving the kitchen.

there was a moment of silence before george spoke, “i do think it’s quite sweet how y/n’s taken tommy in. i think it’s good for both of them.”

“you say that now,” sapnap sighed, leaning back in his chair. “but just wait until tommy’s back to feeling 100% and y/n’s going around saying “pog” all the time.”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch @amibismexy @keiarma @akaichi-blog @runningoffofcaffeine @nonetookind @aquilla-favonia @feverish-dove @izuruamme @weeb-bb @bialin @justachillbisexual @kiritokunuwu @natalie-is-a-wall comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

[boldlyvoid]

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[tootiredmotel]

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.

[tom-holland-parker]

Secrets

Summary: Tom is terrified about you finding out his job but when he brings you to his house he has no choice but to tell you

Pairing: Mob!tom x reader

Warning: SMALL mention of murder but nothing bad

Word count: 2374

Masterlist

"This is your house" you said in shock as Tom helped you out of the car. It was the largest house you'd ever seen and it was crazy to think that it belonged to the man you're dating. He chuckled grabbing your hand as he guided you through the front door, "it one of my houses"

You rolled your eyes looking around the fancy living room. You kept your hands to yourself, afraid that you would break something that cost more than you could imagine. "You're telling me that we've been spending weekends in my tiny studio apartment when you have a living room that size of my building"

Tom smiled watching you explore every part of the large room. "I like your small apartment. It's very cute" You stared at him with suspicious eyes, "what exactly did you say you do for a living?" 

He took a deep breath trying to remain calm as he remembered the lie he told you, "I'm CEO of a waste management company". It wasn't a complete lie, if you changed waste to people and management to murder. The truth is that Tom was too afraid to tell you that he ran one of the largest mobs in London. He was afraid you'd react badly and never want to see him again. Even though he’d only been dating you for 7 months he was completely whipped and would do anything for you.  Lying was his way of protecting you and buying time so he could find the right way to tell you what he does for a living.

You tilted your head in confusion but didn't push for detail. Instead you nodded and grabbed his hand, "so am I going to get the grand tour or are we spending the whole day in your living room". He smiled, guiding you into the other rooms. 

///

“And this is the library” Tom said as he opened the door to the large room covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves. You looked around, fascinated by all the books in the room. “Don’t get too excited, they're all history and law books” Tom said, chuckling as you sighed in disappointment. 

“You have a library in your house and you decide to fill it with boring books” You crossed your arms, “I’m convinced you’re a psychopath”. He chuckled as he stood in front of you, grabbing your chin to gently push your head up. He placed a kiss on your forehead before sighing, “I’ll clear off an entire bookshelf so you can put whatever books you want” 

“Well there's the classics, ” You began to list off all the books you could think of, “oh and there obviously-”

“Boss we got a problem” You were interrupted by a tall muscular man. Tom’s lips went thin and his jaw tightened, it didn’t take a genius to show he was annoyed. You stared in confusion but remained quiet. “Deal with it” Tom said, you flinched at the violence in his voice, “I don’t want to be bothered unless it’s an emergency” 

The man nodded his head leaving the room silently. “Your workers just hang around your house?” You questioned as Tom’s face softened again. He chuckled nervously, “I prefer to have them close to me in case anything goes wrong” 

“Interesting tactic” You joked, “It must be fun to be your employee”. He shrugged, “They still find ways to annoy me”

“But it’s waste management, how hard is it to keep track of garbage?” You asked. He laughed in amusement, as if you were telling a joke, “You’d be surprised”

“Seriously though all you have to do is pick up that trash and-” Tom interrupted holding his finger to your lips. “Enough about my job, it’s for me to worry about” He bopped your nose gently before smiling, “How’d you like to see the green house?” 

You gasped, “Why wasn’t that the first thing you showed me? Let’s go”. Tom sighed in relief, happy that you stopped asking questions, “This way Love” 

He grabbed your hand guiding you out the library to the stairs, “No one ever really uses it because no one here gardens” He explained as you got closer to the backyard, “But I saw all those plants in your apartment and figured you could find some use for it” 

It was a complete lie actually. Tom had seen the way you covered your apartment with various plants, he loved the way you took care of them as if they were real children. When he returned home that night he bought a greenhouse for his backyard, knowing that it would be a place that can make you happy whenever you came to his house. 

“This is so cool” Your eyes lit up as you walked in, hands grazing along the tables and large piles of dirt bags. You were mentally mapping out where you were going to put different plants when you heard a knock on the glass door. Another man, still tall but this time less muscular, entered whispering to Tom. You watched as Tom's eyes filled with a mixture of anger and annoyance. The man quickly left as Tom turned to you, "Darling I'm sorry I have business to handle real quick, how about you go to the living room and pick a movie for us to watch and I'll get to you as soon as possible" 

Your eyes widened nervously, "you're leaving me in the house alone?"

He chuckled grabbing your hands to lead you out the greenhouse. "No I'll be in my office in the west wing" he pointed towards the tall man from before who stood waiting outside the door, "if you need me for any reason just tell Charlie and he'll get me right away" 

You nodded your head as Tom let go of your hand, "Charlie will take you back to the living room, I'll be done as soon as possible". Tom quickly kissed your forehead before walking back into the house. You turned to Charlie, giving him an awkward smile as he began walking you to the living room. 

After an hour of sitting on the couch and staring at the television you started to get bored. You couldn't stop the little voice inside your head telling you to start exploring the house. You sighed, turning off the TV. Charlie, who had remained silent the entire time, stared at you in confusion trying to figure out exactly what you were going to do. "Where's Tom's office?" You asked, standing up from the couch. Charlie stood silent for a moment before taking a deep breath, "do you need him?"

You shook your head, "No but I'm bored and since you're not going to talk to me I might as well find something to do?"

"As much as I'd love to help you" he said sarcastically, "Tom gave me specific instructions to make sure you don't wander off"  

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, throwing yourself back on the couch as you tried to think of a way past him. You knew trying to physically overpower him wouldn't work. Trying to seduce him was useless because you sucked at flirting, something Tom loved about you. You smiled, decided to do the only thing you knew best, catch them off guard. 

"Can we at least play a game or something. I'm sure there's playing cards around here somewhere" you said looking around the room for the deck of cards. You remembered Tom telling you how he hosted poker night every Friday with his brothers. Charlie sighed grabbing the pack from the poker set on top of the large mantle. 

You took them from his hand motioning for him to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table as you shuffled and divided the cards. "Have you ever played spit?" You asked setting the game up

He shrugged, "I've played a game or two" 

"Great get ready to lose" you joked as you grabbed your cards and started the game. It only took 4 rounds for Charlie to start getting comfortable and if you weren't set on finding Tom you would've played this game with him all day. "Where's the bathroom?" You asked as he shuffled the cards for another around. He pointed towards the hallway not giving much thought about it, "its down the hall to your left. Gold doorknob"

You nodded getting up from the table and walking out the room. As quietly as you could you walked up the stairs. You didn't know exactly where Tom's office was located but you knew that the Library was in the West wing so it had to be close by. 

You slowed your pace once you reached the library doors, listening for any sort of noise that would point out the office. It didn't take long for you to hear a muffled voice shouting. You took a deep breath following the voice to the door at the end of the hall. The shouts were louder but you could tell it wasn't Tom's voice. 

You hesitantly placed your ear on the door listening for some sort of context. "This is the second time him and his gang have done this. I want him dead" the voice shouted. You imagine it belonged to a stressed middle aged man and laughed at the idea of the man's face turning red with anger. 

"You can't just kill him. You still have deals with him that need to end first" You heard Tom's surprisingly calm voice. It shocked you how nonchalant he was about the topic of murder. The man began to shout again but you were distracted by the large hand that grasped your shoulder. You turned slowly not surprised to see Charlie standing in front of you, his face disappointed. "You must want me to get fired" he whispered 

You smiled at him as your hand grabbed the doorknob. He moved to grasp your wrist but wasn't quick enough. The door was open and you both were stumbling in the large room. You watched as all eyes turned to you and Charlie, everyone clearly confused by your entrance. Well everyone but Tom, who had a mixture of worry and anger on his face.

It was that very moment that Tom knew he wouldn't be able to hide this from you. He watched as you looked around the room, embarrassment taking over your body, obviously unaware of what was being discussed. 

"I'm sorry" you said, your voice was small and you could feel your face heating up in embarrassment. Tom sighed, looking like he was having a small moral debate with himself. He lifted his hand motioning for you to come over. You slowly walked past the others in the room who were still staring at you in confusion. 

Tom pat his lap, signaling for you to sit. You did as you were told feeling more confident now that his arm was wrapped around your waist. "Listen Jimmy, it's not going to happen until you close all business ends with him. End of story now get out" Tom demanded. 

The man, who was actually younger than you'd imagined, sighed in acceptance and he nodded his head and quickly left with two men trailing behind him. "I'll deal with you later Charlie get out" Tom said with a tired voice as he rubbed his eyes.

You stared at him awkwardly not sure if you wanted to bring up the conversation you overheard. "Wandering around a large house like this can be dangerous" Tom said as he stared at you.

You bit your lip nervously not sure how to respond, "I'm sorry" you whispered staring tm down at the chain around him neck, "don't be mad at Charlie its not his fault"

"I'm not mad" Tom's fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress, "just happy you're safe". You chuckled, "you say that like there was some sort of danger in the house"

His lips went thin as he let out a deep breath. He looked at you, one hand rubbing you back the other gripping your chin, pulling you closer to him as he gave you a kiss. "I have to tell you something" 

"What's wrong?" He bit his lip nervously, "I've been lying about my job. I'm the leader of the biggest mafia in London" 

Your body froze with shock, not sure how to respond to that. "Um" you hesitated, "like Scarface?" He couldn't hide the smile forming on his face, he found your obliviousness adorable, "yes just like Scarface" 

You knew that the reasonable response would've been to run away and never speak to Tom again, but some part of you knew that Tom was still the man you loved no matter what he did. You just had to accept that you loved a dangerous and powerful man. You sighed, "well if we're telling secrets I'm a hard core criminal"

Tom stared at you in confusion, "what?" You chuckled, "yeah in high school I went through a hardcore shoplifting stage I can pretty much steal anything” You smiled as Tom’s laughter filled the room. “But seriously I don’t get why you lied, Mafia boss sounds kinda hot” 

“Sounds hot until you're dead because someone doesn’t like you” He said as he absentmindedly drew traced shapes on your thigh with his fingers. You rolled your eyes, “Don’t try and scare me away because it’s not gonna work”

“I’m just saying I don’t want you to get into something you regret” He whispered. You sighed, “Tom will it calm you down if I told you I love you and I’m not going anywhere?” His eyes shot towards you, shock filling them. 

“Are you serious?” He asked. You chuckled, “yes now say it back before I start overthinking”. He let out a deep breath, moving you so you straddle his legs, “I love you” he whispered as he kissed your neck, “I love you so much”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You joked as your hips grinded against his. He paused reaching down to pull out the handgun from his waist, you laughed as he placed it on the table, “oh a gun”