#whoever i end up with will either appreciate that shit or will be gone before the sun iis down

[halfagone]

So here’s a unique twist of a common prompt. Danny is the son of Bruce Wayne, whoever his mother is is up to you. However, Danny wants nothing to do with Bruce or his family for whatever reason, whether it’s because Damian treated him badly as a child or maybe he just doesn’t like how Bruce operates. Either way, they meet and the meeting ends badly. What do you think?

There are actually a lot of reasons why Danny might not want to stay with Bruce or stay away from Bruce. There is, of course, the usual "Danny has billionaire trauma" route that works for some arguments (although not all (but I'll leave that ramble for another time)). You could always go with Danny and Damian didn't get along (if we're doing a Demon Siblings AU). But I think the route that goes best is just that... Danny has a lot of Trauma™ and he's not ready to join another family.

Unfortunately those kinds of AUs would probably be the sadder ones because that can mean that he has problems and/or is cut off from Jazz too. Because as much as I love Jazz, she was never the bastion of perfection and older sisterhood that we sometimes like to paint her as. She tried, just like her parents did, and sometimes she failed. ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ

In those AUs Danny is probably trying to live on his own. Maybe he's emancipated, maybe he's turned 18 already (I do have a fic idea where Danny moves out of the house after turning 18 despite not graduating yet, which is a thing you can do. Plenty of kids' birthdays pass before June graduation in the U.S., after all.) He's just started to stand on his own two feet and probably move past the neglect, both physical and emotional, that came with living with the Fentons.

Enter Bruce. Bruce, who has abandonment issues and is one paranoid motherclucker (and yes, that was intentional), who has just found out he has an unknown son from either a past relationship or one-night stand. Of course he's going to want to know more about Danny and catch up on all the time he lost with Danny. And the thing about Bruce is that sometimes he acts like a bad father purely because he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings and does all these things that come off as insensitive and/or overbearing.

Sometimes Danny might be able to make it work. But depending on the downturn his life might have taken... sometimes he can't. And for a Danny that might have just gotten that hard-earned independence... it likely won't be pretty.

---

Danny doesn't know what to make of Bruce Wayne. The man seems nice... enough. He's a bit too excitable, tries a little too hard. It's clear as day that he's trying, much more than Danny's adoptive parents could ever bother to sometimes, but it's... Danny would appreciate it more if Bruce just gave up.

He's happy to see that Bruce didn't willingly give Danny up. No word yet on Danny's bio mom, but at least he's got that going for him. He could do without Bruce's meaningful attempts to introduce him to the rest of the family or find out more about him.

Danny absentmindedly tugs at his collar. He really wishes he'd just turned Sam down when he had the chance. Tucker had balked when she extended the invitation out to him. Usually Danny would be her first choice, since he had some semblance of High Society Table Manners™ which usually Sam wouldn't give a shit about, but well, Tucker had gone once, got embarrassed to hell and back, and pretty much sworn off against it ever since.

He'd only moved out from Fenton Works three weeks ago. Danny could understand why she didn't want to ask him while he got settled in.

But well, she was his friend. And with the risk of her parents trying to openly marry her off to some rich guy (as opposed to subtly trying to marry her off, like they were doing now), Danny had taken one for the team and agreed.

If he knew this was going to happen, he would have just stayed home and figured out how to cook scrambled fucking eggs.

"I'm not very comfortable with this conversation right now, Mr. Wayne," Danny said plainly to the man. They were off in a side room at this point, tucked away from the rest of the crowd that would usually gawk at them otherwise. Already he'd turned heads when people recognized him as familiar.

To be honest though, even if they hadn't gone to a more secluded room, Danny still would have told it to the man straight.

"Oh, is it because your friend isn't here? I told you you're more than welcome to-" Bruce started again but Danny cut him off with a sigh.

"That's not the problem here, Mr. Wayne," Danny deadpanned. "I don't know why you're expecting me to be on board so quickly but I- I just turned eighteen. I have an apartment, I have a job. I know I'm still a kid in your eyes but I haven't been your kid in- ever. No matter what any paternity test ends up saying, which I still haven't agreed to by the way-"

"You're not even willing to try?" Bruce asked in return, like he'd been struck across the face.

It seemed genuine enough, like he was sincerely hurt by Danny's standoffish attitude. And Danny would feel guilty if he weren't so tired right now. He'd been tired for the past four years and he didn't need this on top of it all as some twisted cherry on top of the shitty whipped cream that was his life.

"No, I'm not," Danny told the man, straightforward. People had said no to Bruce before, right? Surely, someone had.

He began to doubt when Bruce just stared at him, dumbfounded. Danny didn't let the silence linger because he didn't linger, just moved on and left the side room. He could feel Bruce's eyes on him as he went, and then some of the other Waynes' eyes on him when he came into view. He ignored all of them and tried to find Sam.

Maybe her parents would even be willing to let him go back to the hotel room, after the huge 'scene' he'd just caused.

#halfagone replies #dpxdc #danny fenton is so done #would you look at that #i can use an ao3 tag for that here

[messrmoonyy]

Can you do a 5 + 1 style fic for Tess? Mix in fluff and smut and angst. Maybe 5 times she says she loves you? +1 Or 5 times she kisses you? Something like that. Thanks for taking the time I love your stuff ❤️

5 times Tess kissed you and 1 time she couldn’t

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

A/N- I haven’t written a 5+1 in forever so this was fun! Honestly she’s a soft little baby for the majority of this, mostly cause I wanted to make the 1 hurt more 😃 she’s sweet and soft. She’s baby. The dialogue from the end part is not directly taken from the show cause I don’t like taking all the exact dialogue I want to make it my own. So there’s pieces but not completely exact. Some are longer than others. Only proofread once.

Warnings- 18+ because there’s a smidge of smut. Fluff, drunkness / drinking, smut: oral ( r receiving ) , mentions of injury/violence,

Word count- 6.9k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

ONE

It had been a really bad day.

A really bad day. One of those where every single awful thing that had ever happened to you, crept out from the dark corner of your brain that you locked them away in. Thankfully you’d had no work assignments and had spent the day hiding away in your apartment. You were supposed to have met Tess after her own assignment, plans to get rid of some of your stock on her break in between shifts. But you’d stayed home. 

5 years had passed since outbreak day and the amount of shit you had seen in that time… it crept up on you from time to time. She’d understand. 

She’d probably be a little bit pissed at you when you saw her next, if you were honest, but at that moment you didn’t really give a fuck. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and ignore the memories bouncing around your brain. 

You’d had a decent amount of self restraint all day, you hadn’t touched either of the bottles of whiskey under your bed. Or any of the pills. It would’ve been the easy option, knock yourself out with a couple of oxy or see how much whiskey you could drink before it made you pass out. But for the most part you’d restrained yourself, knowing it would only take the pain away temporarily. 

You saw it first hand in Joel. The way he dosed himself up on whatever pills he could get his hands on, only to be just as traumatised the next morning. 

Though by 4:30 your self restraint was gone. You’d finally cracked open a bottle and poured yourself a glass, ready to spend your night drinking yourself into a stupor. Maybe a mixture of pride for holding out so long, but also too terrified to go to sleep. Scared of what fucked up dreams your mind might conjure up. 

Until you heard a knock at the door. 

You sighed in frustration and got up from your spot at the kitchen table and grabbed your keys, pulling open the door ready to tell whoever it was to piss off. But your frustration dissipated when you saw who was standing there. 

Tess had her hands in her pockets, brows furrowing slightly as she looked over you. You didn’t even say anything, just left the door open and dropped your keys back on the side table by the door, leaning heavily against it. 

“ oh someones started early “ she said with a raised eyebrow as she sauntered into your apartment and grabbed the bottle from the table, eyeing the glass before shrugging and drinking straight from the bottle “ how much catching up do I need to do? “

“ I only had one glass “

“ oh that’s easy “ you watched her bring the bottle to her lips again, wincing slightly as the amber liquid burned on its way down. You slid down the wall where you stood, too tired to even make the short distance back to your chair at the table “ you know there’s a perfectly good couch right? “ you waved a hand in dismissal in her direction and leant your head back against the wall behind you. 

You hadn’t even done anything all day. But your muscles felt heavy, your body exhausted. There might as well have been lead in your veins, the weight of your past heavily anchoring you to the floor. 

Your eyes dragged up and down her as she stood by the table, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. She took another swig from the bottle and you sighed. 

“ you gonna share that or what? “ she scoffed and made her way over, groaning slightly as she sat down on the floor next to you. 

“ I’m too old for sitting on the fuckin floor “ You accepted the bottle, taking a swig before holding the neck loosely between your fingers. 

“ you’re barely in your fuckin 30s “ 

“ the ever looming fear of being turned into a mushrooms puppet will really age a person “ you rolled your eyes and took another drink. You hoped the alcohol would push the heaviness away, but Tess was enough of a distraction even if it wouldn’t. 

“ gonna tell me where you were today? “ you gestured to your surroundings and she sighed, taking the bottle from you which you took right back “ what’s going on? “ 

“ one of them days “ one thing you loved about Tess? She didn’t pry. She didn’t push. She took what you gave her and didn’t ask for more. In the same way you always did for her. In the days where it was you at the door of her apartment. When she couldn’t bare to leave the safety of those four walls and face the day. You didn’t push. 

“ I have something that’ll cheer you up” she took the bottle from you as she said it, clearly trying to catch up with the amount you were downing. The warm, fuzzy feeling alcohol gave you was settling over your head “ I was on sewer maintenance “ she drank some more “ this one fuckin officer… he was being such an ass “

“ they’re all asses “ you mumbled, sighing and closing your eyes as you let the whisky push away the heaviness and lull you into that relaxed, giggly, care free state it always did before you pushed into the next stage of drunkness. Where you couldn’t walk straight and forgot what you’d been doing when you woke up the next morning. 

That first stage was nice. Bubble headed and warm, the giggles and wooziness that came with being tipsy. 

“ they are. But this one? Fuckin dick “ 

“ how is this supposed to be funny Tess? “ 

“ be fuckin patient I’m getting there “ you rolled your eyes, taking the bottle back “ so he’s being an ass. And this guy was done with his shit- literally “ a string of giggles bubbled past your lips at that “ and so the ass starts shouting, telling him to get back to work. And as he’s yelling, he’s walking. Doesn’t look where he’s going “

“ oh no “ the giggles grew as you anticipated where the story was heading, shifting closer to her and turning in her direction “ god please tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me “ 

“ face first. Straight in the fuckin water. Half the QZs shit on his face “ you both burst into laughter, the imagine of a FEDRA asshole face first in a pile of shit water truly the highlight of your day “ I told you it would make you laugh “ she said through her own laughter, a sound you didn’t get to hear very often. 

You lay your head on her shoulder and sighed, as your giggles began dying down. Tess brought a hand up and cupped your cheek lightly leaning her face against your head. 

“ I like when you laugh “ she said, her voice soft “ better than seeing you grumpy “ 

“ yeah? “

“ yeah. I do. Its cute “ you lifted your head, your chin on her shoulder and wiggling your eyebrows at her

“ oh you think I’m cute? “ you both erupted into giggles again, your faces close to each other and laughing like a pair of kids who just got caught trying to steal cookies from the jar “ youuuu think I’m cuteee “ you said in a silly sing song voice and poked at her arm. 

“ you’re wasted “ 

“ hmm maybe but so are you “ she shrugged and pushed your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear 

“ maybe “ your eyes flickered to where the backs of her fingers were brushing against your cheek now, her touch gentle and soft. 

“ I think you’re cute too for what it’s worth “ you said quietly, the alcohol swimming though your veins speaking words you’d been holding onto for months. 

“ you do? “ 

“ I do “ you said it a little too quickly but you didn’t care. Not when she was that close to you, her fingers on your face and practically sat in each others laps “ I have for a while “

“ I know “ you scoffed at that, trailing you hand up her arm and brushing across her jaw lightly 

“ course you fuckin do “ 

“ you’re not subtle “ 

“ and you wait until now to tell me that? That’s fucked” you said, laughing again. And it made a grin spread across her own face. 

“ I can stop. I can leave and pretend I didn’t say it. Give me the word and I’ll go right now “ your hands twisted into the collar of her shirt and you shook your head. 

“ is this just cause you’re drunk? “ you whispered, trying to clear away the fog in some attempt to figure out if this was real or not. 

“ no “ she shook her head, nudging her nose against yours “ no. No it’s not “ all your sadness from earlier in the day was something of the past, it didn’t matter anymore. Not in that moment “ tell me to stop “ her voice was barely a whisper, so close her lips were brushing yours as she spoke. 

“ m’not gonna do that “

“ good “ it was just a gentle kiss at first. Soft. Lingering. You parted for a few seconds, then she was grabbing at your face with both hands, forcefully pulling you back in a way that took the air from your lungs. 

She tasted like the whiskey you’d both been drinking and… something else. Something you’d been yearning for for too long. It wasn’t exactly how you’d expected your first kiss with her to be. You hadn’t exactly imagined some movie, fairytale romance thing. But you also hadn’t imagined the current situation either. 

It was desperate. All tongues and teeth, her hands tugging at the hair in the nape of your neck, yours twisting into the material of her shirt. The kind of kiss that would leave your lips swollen and red when she was done with you. 

Part of your mind that wasn’t all that drunk yet, questioned if this would even be happening if you were both sober. But the louder part was screaming in excitement, telling the other to shut up. That that was something to worry about tomorrow. Not now. Not when she was kissing you like her life depended on it. 

You had to pull apart at some point, gasping for air as you finally parted. You were both quiet for a few moments, just your heavy breaths the sounds between you. She moved away first, reaching for the bottle again and taking a big gulp. 

TWO

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers lacing into her hair as Tess smiled against your cunt, not stopping for a single second in her ministration’s. She was eating like a woman starved, her long slender fingers reaching places inside of you that you never really knew existed. 

“ Jesus fuckin Christ Tess “ you whined, hand patting around for hers. She slid the hand that had been pressing your hips down, up your waist before grabbing your hand. She threaded her fingers with yours, squeezing softly. 

“ I got you baby “ she said, her voice gentle in comparison to the way she curled her fingers inside of you in a steady rhythm “ you gonna come for me? Yeah? “ 

“ yes. Yes. Fuck “ you whined, high pitched sounds leaving your throat as her tongue pressed against your clit again “ just like that “ 

You came on her fingers moments later, a bone shattering grip on her hand as she worked you through it. Not wasting a single drop your slick cunt had to offer. She stopped when you squirmed away from her, the sensation too much. 

Her thumb rubbed circles into your hand and she pressed soft kisses across your thighs and your stomach as you came down, letting your breathing regain its normal pattern. 

“ Tess “ you said softly, and she got the hint, moving her way back up your body and letting your grabby hands pull her down to kiss you. The taste of you lingered on her lips but you didn’t care, hand pulling at her neck to keep her there. You hummed a soft moan into her mouth, making her smile against you. 

“ that good? “ she asked with a grin on her face, when she pulled back, pushing your hair away from your damp forehead.

“ it was alright I guess “ Tess scoffed and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face 

“ you little shit “ she said with a shake of her head and nudged you lightly, rolling onto her back next to you. You propped yourself on your elbow and traced your fingers in nonsense patterns across her skin “ you in a better mood now at least? “ 

“ wasn’t even in a bad mood “ you grumbled, tracing over the lines of her collarbones and down her sternum and back up again. Sometimes when you couldn’t sleep you’d make patterns in her freckles, or trace your fingers over her scars and ask her where each one came from. 

“ sure. You’ve been grumpy as fuck all morning “ you shrugged and she grabbed your hand that was trailing over her skin “ seemed a little happier a minute ago though ‘ oh Tess! Just like like that! ‘ “ you slapped her arm as she pulled a terrible impression of you, her voice high pitched and dramatic 

“ shut up! I don’t sound like that! “ she laughed, grabbing at your hands as you tried to push her off the bed. 

“ oh? You don’t? Huh? “ you clambered on top of her, grabbing at her hands and attempting to pin them down beside her head “ so that wasn’t you moaning my name less than five minutes ago? No? “ 

“ shut up holy shit “ she was still grinning as you managed to push her hands down in a way that was a little too easy for it not to have been intentional. 

“ oh well look at you “ 

“ you’re mean “ 

“ I am? “ you nodded and leant down, lips brushing against hers. 

“ so mean “ she smiled as you said it, tilting her head up to capture your lips again “ making fun of me. Such a bitch” she scoffed at that and you squealed as she pushed at you, so you were now the one with your wrists pinned against the mattress. 

“ I don’t like that tone baby “ you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face, gasping when she pressed her thigh between your legs. 

“ and what are you gonna do about it? “ 

“ oh. You’ll see “ 

THREE

The night was not going to plan. At all. You’d been fucked over. Some stupid fucker working for Robert who you were supposed to be trading with. They’d brought pills that were nothing but compacted powdered sugar, trying to screw you over. 

You, Tess and Joel had secured a pretty decent name for yourself within the underground scene of Boston. People trusted you, were loyal to you and didn’t take their business else where. But with that came the fuckers who wanted to challenge it. Who wanted your client base. Wanted the power that the three of you were gaining every day. 

It had gotten messy when you noticed the pills looked different, one taste telling you that you weren’t holding a baggie of Oxy or Hydro. But a bunch of useless shit. Most of the fuckers were now dead or dying in a back alley somewhere in zone 5, you both had guns and all they had were crappy shivs and planks. But somewhere In the tussle, Tess had gotten stabbed trying to defend you. Even though you could take care of yourself. A handmade shiv to the side. 

You’d put him down. The metal pipe one of his friends had tried to hit you with raining down on him until you heard the sickening crunch of god knows what part of him breaking. You’d put a bullet in his face too for good measure. 

It was a miracle you’d managed to get her back to your apartment without being spotted. But she was stubborn and wasn’t the type to scream and cry even if she did have a giant hole in her side. 

“ alright alright. Here we go on the table I need a flat surface “ it wasn’t particularly smooth or glamorous the way you flopped her onto the kitchen table, rushing to pull various shit from cupboards in the kitchen to try and stop your girlfriend from fucking bleeding out. 

“ Jesus fuckin Christ “ she groaned, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. You hurried back over to her, taking her blood soaked hands and gently pulling them away from where she was keeping pressure on her wound “ I swear to fuck if this is how I die- “

“ shut the fuck up “ you pushed up her shirt and started wiping away as much blood from the wound as you could, cleaning it as much as was possible in the circumstances “ you’re not dying. I’m no Florence fucking nightingale but I’m gonna patch you up. And you’re gonna be so pissed at me tomorrow because I stitch you up wonky, but that’s okay. Cause I saved your fucking life so you should be grateful “ 

She actually cracked a small smile at that, eyes locked on your face as you worked at cleaning her up. 

“ so grateful “ you examined the wound in the light of the crappy portable lamps, almost thanking the Lord when it didn’t seem to be too deep. No punctured organs you could hope. You reached for the needle and thread, but your hands were shaking too much to thread the needle and you cursed under your breath “ calm down “ it almost made you laugh. She was the one with a stab wound. Yet she was comforting you. The way she always did. 

“ I’m calm “ 

“ tell that to your face “ you glared at her and focussed on threading the needle.

You wanted to be pissed at her as she lay there watching you. She was too protective sometimes. You liked it. You couldn’t deny that but not when it meant she was getting hurt. Not when she put herself in harms way. Idiot.

You finally got the needle threaded and sat down to look at the wound. 

“ not too deep it should be okay. Gonna hurt though “ 

“ funny I always thought you were the masochist and I was the sadist “ you threw her a look, unable to stop the smile that tugged at your lips. 

“ you’re such an idiot “ her breath was shaky as you started stitching her up, trying to remain as neat as possible. She shifted as you clearly hit a more tender spot, a jumbled string of curse words leaving her mouth. 

“ wait until I get my hands on that motherfucker “ she spat, hissing in pain as you pushed the needle through her skin again, trying to be quick and get it over with. 

“ yeah? What you gonna do? Tell me “ talking was good. She’d taught you that. The times she’d had to patch you up, making you talk to keep your mind off of the pain. 

“ bash his- shit. Bash his fuckin skull in “

“ mhm and what else? “ you asked, wiping at the blood that continued to trickle down her stomach “ details. I want details “ you pushed, keeping her talking. Keeping her distracted. Making her brain tick over with how she planned to beat the living shit out of Robert, not about how painful a blunt needle and sewing thread felt dragging though her skin. 

“ maybe I should take some tips from you. You really fucked that asshole up, huh? “

“ well I learned from the best “ she gave a short laugh, eyes still locked on your face. 

“ fucking Robert “ 

“ mhm fuckin Robert “ you said as you made the final stitch. Her eyes were still on you as you doused the wound in alcohol, in some hope it would kill off at least some of the shit that might cause an infection “ there you go “ 

She pushed her self up onto her elbows with a groan, looking down at your handy work 

“ pretty as a fuckin picture “ 

“ I know. Should’a been a nurse “ you moved to clear away all the shit you’d been using, but she grabbed at your wrist. 

“ thank you “

“ of course “ she pulled you down and you pressed a kiss to her lips lightly, her split lip giving it the metallic taste of blood.

FOUR

You woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing around as the covers clung to your arms and legs in a way that felt too constricting. The horrors of whatever had been tormenting you in your sleep still assaulting you, even with your eyes open. 

You couldn’t even fully comprehend what your brain was showing you, just that you knew it was terrifying. Odd faces of your family, of people you had killed. 

“ baby. Baby! Hey! Calm down you’re okay! it’s me! It’s me. I’ve got you “ as your eyes began to focus on your surroundings, your eyes clearing of the dark fog of the nightmare that had attacked your peaceful sleep, you focussed on the strong hands gripping at your arms. The calm voice filtering through your own screams, hitting your ears. 

You reached out in the dark for her, squeezing her tightly when she pulled you into her arms. 

“ Tess “ you sobbed, praying it was her that had you trapped in her arms. Of course it was. It was always her, always the one to pull you back to reality when the nightmares got to you. 

“ that’s right. It’s me, you’re alright. Just a dream, I got you. It’s just a dream all a dream baby girl “ she murmured softly into your hair, stroking her hands over your back and gently shushing you. 

You hated when all the shit you had done came back to haunt you. It made you feel weak. Pathetic. 

Your own mind was punishing you. Attacking you from the inside out for being a shitty person. It never seemed to affect Tess. She had always been stronger than you, always the one doing the comforting. 

“ I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry- “

“ don’t be sorry. It’s okay “ you pressed your face against her neck, breathing in her scent in some attempt to ground yourself again “ baby “ she gently nudged your face up to look at her, hands cupping your cheeks gently “ you’re home, you’re safe. I’m right here “  

She brushed her thumbs over your tears, her tired eyes scanning your face. She had bags under her eyes, more scars littering her skin in the years since you’d first met her. But those eyes were still the same. No matter how much shit you both did, she still looked at you the same. 

“ you should go back to sleep “ you shook your head. Not wanting to go back to the fucking horrors that were waiting for you the second you closed your eyes  

“ cant. Cant do that shit again “ she sighed but nodded and sat back against the headboard, pulling you with her. 

“ alright. Then we stay awake “ her voice was soft, no sarcasm. No joking. She had to be up early for work, yet she would sacrifice her sleep to stay awake all night with you “ we can talk. Or you can lose at cards to me. Whatever you want, we’ll do it “ you looked up at her, her face illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the gap in the curtains. 

“ I love you “ you whispered, overcome with emotion as you looked at her. You didn’t say it to each other often. In fact she had let it slip maybe three times over the time you’d been together. She was uncomfortable with it. Never wanting to confront and confirm that she had someone she loved. That she had a weakness. That she had somebody to lose. 

She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips, telling you without saying it. 

“ I know baby. I know “ 

FIVE

If someone had told you that in the middle of the apocalypse you’d be out sunbathing, eating fresh fruit like you were on some kind of vacation. You’d have laughed in their faces. Yet there you were. The backyard of the house next door to Bill and Franks. They’d fixed it up when your visits there grew more regular a few years back. Frankly Bill didn’t seem to pleased by it. Some bullshit ‘ resource management’ thing. But Frank had said he’d loved the project. 

And it meant you got the only slice of true… normality the world had to offer you. You could play pretend. Act like the world was fine. That you and Tess were living in that little town, doing normal human things. Dinner parties with your neighbours, sunbathing in the garden and picnics. It made the return to Boston all that much harder each time, a shocking return to reality. One that was grey and smoky and filled with FEDRA assholes looking for any excuse to shoot. But in the moment, you lived in your make believe world. Forgetting you even had to go back there. 

You could lie in the grass with Tess. And pretend. 

“ I forgot what real strawberries tasted like “ you sighed, savouring every tiny bite of the fruit Frank had brought round for you both “ this is better than sex “ 

“ that’s fuckin rude “ you smiled up at her from where your head rested in her lap, her hair tied up and shiny with the nice shampoos Bill had stocked. She always looked brighter in Lincoln. Not just because the sun was shining and there wasn’t that ever looming greyness. She glanced down at you and your final tiny bites of strawberry “ why are you eating it so slowly? “

“ I’m savouring it “ she rolled her eyes but a smile was pulling at her lips. She started running a hand through your hair, making you sigh as the sun made your body feel sleepy and warm. Safe. 

You wondered if it was what life would’ve been like if the world hadn’t exploded. Of course you knew it wouldn’t in a way. You had lived miles away from Michigan, you probably would never have met. She’d probably still be married, maybe even had another kid as well as her son. Grown old and grey with a bunch of grandkids and died safe and warm in her bed. 

You shocked yourself a little at the jealousy that bubbled up in your chest at the thought. You didn’t want to think about her with someone else. She was yours. You were hers. That was it. 

You would have met. You would have ended up how you wanted. A cosy house and friendly neighbours. Dinner parties. Picnics. Dates. Safe and warm in your bed. 

“ is this technically a date? “ you suddenly asked, opening your eyes again as you got caught up in your daydreaming. Tess shrugged, her eyes closed as she let the sun warm her face. She had a thing for fresh air, always talking about how stuffy the city air was. How she loved being outside of the walls where the air was cleaner. 

“ you want it to be a date? “ you shrugged, her voice sounding slightly teasing. 

“ forget it “

“ oh come on I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It can be a date “ she looked down at you, stroking her hand over your hair. 

“ we’ve been together for all these years and never had a date “ 

“ there’s not exactly many options in the QZ is there “ you sighed and she gave you a look riddled with sympathy “ every time we visit you get like this “ she said softly “ you… drift “ you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on your hands. 

“ because I feel normal here “ you confessed “ I can pretend. Pretend we’re normal “ it felt silly to say out loud and you waited for her to laugh at you or make a joke. But she didn’t. She just gave a gentle nod “ I don’t have to worry about getting fucking jumped on my way home because someone wants our cards, or selling pills to officers that could have us hung up the gallows if they felt like it. I can forget that we’re shitty people for a bit “ 

Tess was quiet as you spoke, letting your words hang between you. You wondered if it would stem into one of her bad moods. She liked the position you had back in Boston. She liked the power. The control. But you were growing tired of it. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. Not when you got a taste of the opposite anytime you visited Bill and Franks. 

“ then let’s pretend “ she said after a few moments, standing up and holding out her hand to you “ come on “ you took her hand and she pulled you into her arms, guiding yours around her neck before looping her own around your waist “ I worry too “ she confessed  

“ sure “

“ I do. I worry all the time. About you. There is nothing and no one else in this world that I care about as much as you. You think I like all that shit we do? I do it because it means we have food. And safety. You have food and safety “ 

“ you love that shit don’t play with me Tess “ she sighed and shrugged 

“ I like control. But if I had to give that up to keep you safe? I’d do it in a fuckin heartbeat “ she closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath “ you know. When Joel is done with the battery thing… the Tommy thing. We could lay low for a while “ you quirked an eyebrow at that 

“ you? Lay low? Yeah I’ll believe that when I fuckin see it “ 

“ I’m serious. Im getting too old for that bullshit “ the look in her eyes seemed genuine. She was serious. 

“ really? “

“ maybe we could… even stay here. For a while. I could convince them to let us stay. Bill might like having some extra help for Frank “ you pondered on it, leaving the shitty zone behind. Your illegal runs. Your drug running. Live out the rest of your days in the peace and quiet of Lincoln “ we do this final run with Joel. I’m finalising the trade with Robert for a battery. Joel is sorting the truck. We get him to Tommy in one piece and then… we come back here. Yeah? “ 

Your face lit up and you nodded, a small laugh leaving your mouth. 

“ I’d. I’d like that “ Tess smiled too, nudging her fingers under your chin and pulling you in to kiss her. 

“ hmm you taste like strawberry “ 

+ ONE

Tess was acting weird. Erratic. It wasn’t like her. You stood hopelessly with Joel as she charged around the room, chucking shit out of boxes and checking the pockets of the dead firefly’s on the floor. Searching for something. Anything. 

“ Tess. What’re you doing? “ Joel spoke before you could. You couldn’t move from where you were stood, an awful biting feeling in your chest as you watched her. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t your Tess. Tess wasn’t erratic and wild. She was organised. Concise. She knew what she was doing at all times and had full control of the situation. 

“ I mean there’s gotta be a map or something right? “ Joel looked over at you, eyebrows raised in some silent request for you to see what the fuck was going on with her. But you still couldn’t move “ Ellie. Did Marlene say where this hospital was? Did she say where she was taking you? “

“ no I- just some place west “

“ west. Fuckin west “ she went back to ferreting through their pockets, chucking useless shit like a pen and a pair of glasses across the room. 

“ Tess we’re done here. Let’s just go home and- “

“ that’s not my fuckin home “ she wouldn’t look at you. Even though your eyes were burning into her, she avoided your gaze. Something was wrong “ our luck had to run out sooner or later “ she said, standing up from where she’d been searching one of the bodies. 

Luck. 

Luck?

“ holy shit. She’s infected “ Ellie’s voice broke the small silence that had fallen over the group, her tone sounding pained as she said the words you had been refusing to even think about. 

The look on her face was enough of an answer for you. And it was the thing that finally made you move. You crossed the distance between you in purposeful strides, stopping in front of her 

“ show me “ 

“ look I- “

“ show. Me “ you watched her jaw clench as she grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled it down to reveal exactly what was wrong with her. 

A set of teeth marks surrounded by angry, red skin. Blood was oozing out of the wound, a colour too dark to be normal. But the worst part? You could see the tendrils of the fungus under her skin, raised in her veins as they crawled closer and closer to her brain. The bite was on her shoulder and the fungus was already reaching up the side of her neck. How fast did it move? How long had it been since you’d ran into the clickers? 10 minutes ago? If that? 

They had been the only run in youd had. It had been the only possible place she could’ve gotten bitten. In 10 minutes it was already spreading that far? 

Your mind rushed back to the museum. The clickers that had rushed you, separating you both from Joel and Ellie. The way she had pushed you out of the way of one of them. But she had killed it. How could it possibly have…

“ oops, right? “ she said quietly, eyes glassy with tears that she seemed to be desperately attempting to hold in. Your brain refused to process the information. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

It was Tess. Strong and brave and smart Tess. Tess that killed infected like it was nothing. That had lasted 20 fucking years and never been bitten. Tess that was taking you to Lincoln to live out the rest of your days in safety. 

“ Tess- “ she pushed past you and headed for Ellie before you could say anything else, her mind clearly preoccupied. 

“ bandage off. Show me your arm “ you watched her grab Ellie’s arm, ignoring your presence now and talking to Joel. Her mouth was moving but your ears were ringing too loud, not focussing on what she was saying. Watching as her hand started shaking, twitching. It was attacking her nervous system already. 

How long would it be until it was in her brain? Controlling and taking over the mind of the woman you loved. Claiming her body as it’s own, her thoughts, her feelings, turning her into an empty shell of a human. A puppet. 

Your fingers prickled with the lack of air entering your lungs, anxiety overwhelming you, your chest tight and head light. The sudden realisation of what was happening crashing down on you, suffocating you with a heavy weight on your chest that made it feel as though your lungs were collapsing. 

“ oh shit you’re not infected too are you? You don’t look right man “ both Tess and Joel turned to you as Ellie spoke, her voice sounding echoed and far off. 

“ I think I’m having a heart- a heart attack “ you gasped, shaking your head and grabbing at your chest. She appeared in front of you, hands reaching out to you before pulling them away again. 

“ you’re not having a heart attack “ Joel was talking again, but you couldn’t hear him. Your eyes were locked on hers, the tears she’d been holding back silently rolling over her cheeks. She reached out for you again and actually let herself touch you this time. Her hands were trembling as she placed them on your arms. Was it the infection? Or was she scared? Or was it both? 

“ Tess- “

“ shhh let me talk I don’t have a lot of time “ your eyes fell down to the bite mark peaking over the collar of her shirt and she squeezed your arms lightly “ hey. Up here. Look at me not that “ you dragged your eyes back up to her face. Even if it was just so you could burn it into the backs of your eyelids, every single line and scar and freckle that it held “ Joel’s gonna get you and the kid to Bill and Franks- “

“ I’m not- “

“ shut. The fuck up. You get to Bill and Franks they’ll know what to do with the kid. And hey. They love you, they’ll let you stay there with them even if I’m not there- “

“ I’m not going to fuckin Bill and and Franks without you “

“ yes you are. Get the kid there. Bill and Frank they’ll look after you. They owe me “ before you could protest again you startled as one of the body’s on the other side of the room suddenly moved, screeching before Joel shot it in the head. 

There was a commotion somewhere outside, drawing Joel over the door of the building. You looked down at the man he’d just shot, the moss and earth beneath his fingers moving. You’d heard that the fungus could grow underground, knew it could connect colonies of infected miles apart. Is that what it was? Drawing a whole heard of infected in your direction? 

“ how many? “ Tess asked 

“ all of em “ she gave a small nod, hastily wiping away her tears and leaving you again. You watched her as she started pushing barrels over, tossing boxes of grenades and ammo onto the floor. 

“ what are you doing? “ 

“ making sure they won’t follow you “ your ears were ringing again, head aching as the fumes from the barrels drifted into your nose. 

Your hands slipped into your hair, pulling at it in a way that surely made you looked mad. But you needed to feel your scalp prickle with pain, something to wake you up from the fucking nightmare you were living through. 

You watched her talking to Joel again, shaking your head as you tried to wake yourself up. Waiting to feel her hands pull you into her arms and tell you it was okay. It was all a dream and you were safe.

But it didn’t come. You were awake. You were living the nightmare. 

You heart was aching in your chest. You felt as though you could feel each and every heartstring snapping. You had often wondered how after so many of millions of years that human beings had walked the earth, living and adapting to their surroundings, they had not evolved enough to not feel the splintering pain of heartbreak. How had humans evolved so thoroughly, so much that they could adapt to live even after the world had gone to shit. Trained themselves to use guns and knifes to protect themselves yet left their hearts so delicate, so vulnerable that something as fickle as love could cause such a gut wrenching pain.

You’d much rather take a knife to the gut or a bullet to the head. You were certain it would hurt less. 

She reappeared in front of you a few moments later. Her hands cupped your face and you wrapped your fingers tightly around her wrists. 

“ I love you. I’m sorry I never told you as much I should’ve “ she was saying goodbye

“ I’m not fuckin going anywhere Tess you can stop with bullshit goodbyes”

“ you’re gonna get out of here. And go to Bill and Frank. And you’re gonna grow old as them fuckers, you’re gonna be safe. And eat strawberries. And paint with Frank and lay in the sun. You’re gonna live. The way that you’ve always wanted to “ she didn’t get it. Didn’t understand. You wanted those thins. But only if she was there with you. Not alone “ they’ll look after you “ 

“ you look after me “ she closed her eyes, shaking her head as tears kept flowing down both of your faces. 

“ I can’t anymore “ she whispered. 

The noise outside was growing louder, hundreds of infected barely a minute away. 

“ I’m staying here. With you “ she shook her head again and pressed her forehead to yours for a second. 

“ I’m sorry “ your brow furrowed “ Joel “ you realised what was happening a second too late. Joel’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting you from your feet 

“ let me fuckin go! Put me down! Joel! “ you thrashed and kicked and punched but Joel was stronger than you, no reaction to your squirming as he dragged Ellie along with his other hand. Tears streamed down your face as you craned your neck to try and see her, every ounce of energy you had being used to try and break free of Joel’s tight grip “ Tess! Joel please! Please we can’t leave her. We can’t! Joel! “ 

It wasn’t until you were outside that you managed to break free. 

Only because the building exploding behind you sent the three of you flying, landing face down in the grass. You rolled over, eyes wide as you took in the site before you. Flames licked out of the windows, engulfing the building and all of the infected inside. 

And Tess. 

Some part of you still refused to accept it, making you scramble to your feet without your full consent or knowledge. Stumbling back towards the building only to have Joel’s arms wrap tightly around you again. 

“ it’s over. It’s over “ 

“ no! No! “ Joel’s arm stayed tightly around you as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. 

Because you had no one left. 

Tess was gone. And you were on your own. 

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou tess #tlou hbo #Anna Torv #the last of us fanfic #fluff #smut #angst #5 + 1 fic #Joel miller #ellie williams #x you #x reader #lgbt

[lunagb]

A Plague of Sleet and Rot (ASoIaF x Walking Dead fanfic)

CHAPTER 4: Lads

Masterlist

Time Frame: Atlanta Arc - Post Rick’s Coma

Featured Characters: Jon Snow, Rick Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Daryl Dixon, Guillermo, Miguelito

Warnings: Graphic bloody violence, vivid descriptions of gore, death-related trauma, ptsd, flashback episodes

Summary: Jon Snow awakens on a highway outside Atlanta, Georgia with only faint fleeting memories of his last day on the wall. This totally alien world shocks him to his core but he's given a beacon of guidance through it when he spots a man on a horse approaching him. Together Rick Grimes and Jon Snow will set out, looking for Rick's lost family and Jon's lost land. After all, The Wall needs its Lord Commander.

[Art above is a piece by Art.of.Azrael. You can support them here: https://linktr.ee/Art.of.Azrael ]

Any notes are appreciated!

The summer sun stared back at Jon, hot and wrathful; it mocked him.

“How pathetically weak I am. Would most not jump at a second life? Would most not fall to their knees to profess their love and faith in whoever or whatever had spared them from the eternal void? That is what it is, is it not; the great beyond? Nothing. No ancestors. No loved ones. Only the cold embrace.

Lies unite all Gods, old and new, east and west, weak and strong; false idols the lot of them. I have seen the truth of the matter. What lies beyond the mortal world is the cold embrace of an eternal void. Utterly indescribable and unimaginable. A place that lacks an experience.

Truly, how is one to imagine nothing? And how is it that I am able? A curse is what it is; second life. A cruel jape. A mockery.

I am Jon Snow no longer. He died at the hands of his brothers on a fiercely cold night; foolish, scared, betrayers. I am a pretender; a spectre. I walk amongst the living making a mummer’s farce of life. If I had any respect for the lives of my forgotten, distant world and this dead and dying one, I would have stepped off of the roof without a moment’s hesitation.

Yet, I am a coward. So I go on living.”

“Jon.” The boy shook him again.

The puffed, red eyes of his boyish face lingered over Jon, wet and welling. While the brother and the father sat far apart up, panting, heaving and bloodied with swollen, cut-riddled faces.

“Jon. Come on, man. Speak to me.” The boy shook him violently this time.

The summer sun was so bright, it stung Jon’s eyes. So hot, it cooked him alive. Hopefully, it would do what he could not; end his mockery.

“He’s gone.” The brother spat blood.

“No, he still has a pulse,” The boy said.

“His mind ain’t.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, dude.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’re wastin’ time,” The father said.

“Damn right. We should be out there lookin’ for Merle. Who knows how far he’s got by now? Probably in worse shape than this prick too,” The brother said.

“No, your brother is either dead or long gone,” The father said.

“Yeah? How you figure, pig?”

“That blood,” The father spoke through gritted teeth, “is all dried. He’d have to of done that to himself long before we got here. Probably last night, if I had to guess.”

“Why do you reckon he even did it?” The boy asked. “I mean, he was safe up here. The boards hadn’t broken. He had plenty of water. I get he was high but coke doesn’t make you cut your hand off.”

The brother spat.

“Wasn’t coke.”

“It wasn’t?” The father asked.

“Does Merle look like he can afford to be a coke guy? Naw, it was crack.”

“But I found coke on him,” The father said.

“Merle sold coke. He didn’t do it. He ain’t that stupid.”

“Stupid enough to do crack.”

The brother spat again.

“Never said he was perfect. God dammit, man! Did you have to knock my fuckin’ tooth out?! Shit won’t stop bleedin’.”

Jon wished they’d just go. They had their own people to worry about. Truly they were foolish to squabble over a spectre.

“Come on,” The father grunted, “Let’s get him up.”

“And take him to the truck?” The boy asked.

“Yeah. Then we’ll go get the guns and head back.”

“Ain’t he wearin’ armour? How the hell are we gonna carry him in that?” The brother asked.

“We’ll take it off,” Rick said.

“Gonna be hard. He won’t move,” The boy said.

The brother spat.

“I’ll make him move.”

Footsteps approached Jon.

“Whoa, no! Stop!” The boy yelled.

Daryl kicked Jon hard in the ribs and cried out.

“Fuck! What the hell?! God fucking dammit, my foot!”

“I told you, dude… he’s wearing chainmail.”

Jon sighed.

“Just leave me.”

“No way, dude. Come on, stop being stupid,” The boy said.

“The hell you so upset for anyhow? Ain’t your brother who cut off his hand!” The brother yelled.

Daryl kicked Jon hard in the side of his head. His head spun and piercing pain stabbed his ear. For a single, fleeting, maddening moment, the cold embrace’s long and reaching talons returned to close around him.

Jon screamed and scrambled. Tears streamed down his face. Sobs caught in his throat. He pressed his back up against the same pipe that’d held Merl. Merle’s dried blood touched his hand and the world sharpened.

Rick, Glenn and Daryl all stood over him. Glenn looked about on the verge of tears as he looked at Jon the way one looks at a dying puppy. A disgusted sneer plastered Daryl’s rugged, busted face. A fierce gaze pierced through Rick’s swollen, bloodied features to bare down on Jon with a heat far greater than any summer sun. He marched up to Jon, knelt before him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“You listen to me. Every second you waste here is another second my wife and son could be getting ripped apart by walkers. I get it’s hard. We’re all struggling but you need to get your shit together. If not for yourself then for all the innocent people back at camp.”

The thought of a lad as young as Carl – as young as Bran – being swallowed up by the cold embrace filled Jon with a dread so great it dragged him to his feet as if he were little more than a mummer’s puppet. His heart thrashed like a caged beast and pounded in his ears.

“Forgive me. I-I do not know what came over me. This world, its life, it had plagued me with a madness indescribable.”

Rick squeezed his shoulder.

“You’re not alone, okay? This new world has taken a lot from all of us. Don’t let it take anymore.”

A pit formed in Jon’s stomach as tears, once again, forced themselves into his eyes. He wiped them away and nodded.

“O-Okay.”

Glenn sighed with relief and Daryl just spat again.

“Any of y’all got a cloth or somethin’?” Daryl asked.

Glenn reached into his pocket and handed Daryl a patterned square of cloth. Daryl snatched it up, knelt, and picked up Merle’s hand. He folded the cloth over the hand, tied it up, unzipped Glenn’s bag and tossed it inside. Glenn cringed but made no complaint. Rick picked up the bloody saw and tossed it in the bag too. Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and turned towards the roof’s ladder.

“I’m gonna find him,” he said.

Rick stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

“Get your hands off me! You can’t stop me!”

“He’s family, I get it. I don’t blame you. I know how you feel. But we can come back to look for him later. He won’t get far like that. He’ll be easy to track. We gotta focus on gettin’ those guns back to camp.”

“Screw them. Why should I give a shit?”

Rick took a handful of Daryl’s collar.

“There are innocent people. Women. Children. They need our help. Without those guns, they’ll die. All of them. Slow, gruesome deaths. I need your help to stop that. I promise we’ll come back for Merle again.”

Daryl shook Rick off, puffed his chest and flashed a scowl. He paced back and forth, muttering and shaking his head. Then, clenched his jaw and stared daggers into Rick’s eyes.

“God dammit, fine! Fine. But if we find him dead and walkin’, I swear to shit, man.”

“Thank you, brother.” Rick squeezed Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl shook him off and marched back towards the stairwell.

“Come on then. How the hell do we get to those guns, Glenn?” Daryl asked.

Rick, Jon and Glenn all look at each other before hurrying after him.

“We’ll need a plan. The tank’s pretty deep in the city centre. Who knows if the geeks are still there?”

“The fuck you mean, tank?”

***

The four of them were gathered in a loose circle in one of the building’s backrooms. On the floor, despite lacking an inkwell, Glenn had drawn a crude map of the surrounding, ‘city blocks,’ as he called them, with some kind of strange, featherless quill. Rick stood over the map, hands on hips.

“You’re not doing this alone,” Rick said.

“Even I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t like you much,” Daryl said.

Jon fidgeted. After everything, he felt a little ashamed to speak critically, but the absurdity of what Glenn had said compelled him to do so anyway.

“I, uh, don’t really see this going well.”

“It’s a good idea! Okay? If you just hear me out,” Glenn said, sitting on the floor.

Rick sighed and crouched beside him.

“If we go out there in a group, we’re slow. Not even mentioning the fact you two idiots just kicked the crap out of each other, and you’re in armour. If I’m alone, I can move fast.”

Jon, Rick and Daryl shot each other doubtful looks.

“Look,” Glenn huffed.

Glenn placed the strange, featherless, inkless quill on the map.

“This is the tank. It’s five blocks from here.” Glenn placed a screwed-up piece of paper beside the quill. “This is the bag of guns and here’s the alley I met Jon and Rick in. That’s where Daryl and I will go.”

“Why me?”

“Your crossbow is quieter than their guns.”

Daryl pursed his lips and joined them around the map.

“While Daryl waits here, I’ll run up the street and grab the bag.”

“And Jon and I? What do we do?” Rick asked.

Glenn placed a white, rubber rectangle on the map.

“You wait here.”

“Two blocks away? Why?” Rick asked.

“I might not be able to come back the same way. Walkers might cut me off. If that happens I won’t go back to Daryl. I’ll go forward instead. All the way around to that alley where you guys are. If the walkers haven’t left that part of the city, whichever way I go I’ll have you in both places to cover me. And if they’re gone, no harm done, right?”

Rick exhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his hair. Daryl clicked his tongue and stared at the map intently. Jon simply shrugged.

“It’s a good plan.”

Rick nodded and stood, and Daryl squinted at Glenn.

“Hey kid, what’d you do before all this?” Daryl asked.

Glenn smirked.

“Delivered pizzas.”

***

By the time they’d travelled five blocks deeper into the city, the gurgled cries of the dead tore through the air once again. Jon and Rick raced through the alleys, guns raised, covering each other’s backs. They ducked behind whatever was available: Huge, stinking, metal containers, abandoned cars, open doors; anything to keep out of sight from the dead. The rotting corpses, shambled about purposelessly, only moving with any vigour when they happened to spot either Jon or Rick. Mindful of Needle’s thunder, Jon refrained from firing it, opting instead to deal with any walkers that got too close with his dagger. However, he didn’t dare sheath Needle in favour of Longclaw. Keeping the dead beyond arms reach, if needed, would be best, Jon knew.

Eventually, Jon and Rick reached their marked position without having to kill more than a handful of walkers. They took cover behind another one of the stinking containers and peered out of the end of the alley. Sure enough, two blocks away were the tank and the hoard that surrounded it. The hoard had thinned. No longer did the walkers stand shoulder to shoulder, pavement to pavement. Instead, they shambled back and forth aimlessly, leaving enough room to run by them if one was quick enough. Jon prayed Glenn was. The slew of corpses left behind by Jon and Rick previously still remained, decomposing in the street, heads blasted and decapitated. Jon kept a tight grip on Needle.

Time weighed heavily on Jon’s mind as they waited for Glenn to appear with bated breath until suddenly, Glenn darted from around the corner towards the tank. The dead mobilised against him. A corpse reached for him. He skirted by it, narrowly dodging its grasp. However, doing so threw him into another rotting grasp. Glenn screamed and shoved the corpse away. The walker swung at him as it fell but missed his face by an inch. Glenn bolted for the tank as the dead came at him from all directions.

“I should have given him Longclaw,” Jon hissed.

“Quiet, he’ll be fine,” Rick hissed back.

Glenn snatched up the bag and Rick’s lost hat and scurried back towards Daryl. Suddenly a yell echoed through the streets from Daryl’s direction.

“Ayumade!” A shrill voice shouted.

Jon and Rick shot each other worried looks

“Ayumade! Ayumade!”

Rick’s face hardened. Jon nodded and they ran back down the alley.

“Ayuma-”

Jon and Rick ran around a corner. More yelling of more voices filled the air. The dead began to stir around them, gurgling and hissing. Jon and Rick rounded another corner. The roar of a car’s engine echoed. The dead wailed, and then so did the living. As an unknown voice screamed. Glenn’s voice bounced around the concrete jungle.

“Daryl! Daryl! Don’t let them take me!”

The car’s engine roared again and faded away.

“Get back here! You sons of bitches!

Jon and Rick rounded the final corner and entered Daryl’s alley. He was pointing his crossbow at a young, tanned lad. He was on his back, wide-eyed and scrambling backwards on his scrawny arms and legs. Rick pushed Daryl back just as he looked about to fire and blocked him with his body. The bag of guns laid discarded behind Daryl, along with Rick’s hat.

“I’m gonna kick your nuts up in your throat!” Daryl yelled and pushed back on Rick.

Jon seized the lad by the collar of his sleeveless, stained shirt and slammed him against the alley wall. He pressed his forearm against the lad’s neck firmly enough to trap him but not enough to choke him, and kept Needle pointed at his feet. The lad squirmed and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Ayumade! Ayumade!” He screamed.

“Calm down,” Jon hissed.

“Ayumade!”

“They took Glenn!” Death festered in Daryl's eyes. “That little bastard and his little homie friends!” Daryl pointed at the lad and pushed on Rick. “I’m gonna stomp your ass!”

“The dead surround us!” Jon yelled over Daryl.

The metal wire fence gate at the end of the alley had a small collection of walkers pressed against it. They reached through the gaps with flailing arms and reaching fingers. Rot oozed down the gate. Rick looked at them over his shoulder. He grabbed Daryl by the arm and pointed down the alley with his gun.

“Get to the store! Go.”

Jon nodded, seized the lad’s arm and dragged him down the alley. Rick snatched up his hat and the bag of guns and ran after Jon with Daryl in tow.

***

Jon dragged the lad for five blocks past stinking containers and putrid, shambling corpses. He fired Needle without a second thought, unloading its magazine into the converging dead until they arrived back at the store. He dragged the lad, kicking and screaming into the backroom with the map and threw him onto a chair. The lad jumped out of the chair but Jon pushed him back down and pressed Needle against the lad’s chest.

“Calm down, lad.”

“I heard it click! Wey!” The lad spat in Jon’s face.

Jon wiped his face and stood over the lad, firm and tall. He resisted the urge to put his dagger to the lad’s throat – the lad was little older than ten and two – and instead spoke in a low, soft voice.

“The man with the crossbow will be here soon. He isn’t as nice as me. Maybe the other one will stop him from killing you, maybe he won’t. I will if you calm down.”

The lad shrank back in his chair just in time for Rick and Daryl to barge in.

“The people you were with,” Rick said.

Daryl tried to push past him but Rick held him back.

“We need to know where they went.”

The lad looked from Jon to Rick to Daryl with wide, fearful eyes. But, stupidly, they hardened and he stuck out his jaw.

“I ain’t telling you nothing! Wey!”

“This little turd and his douche-bag friends jumped me and took Glenn!” Daryl pushed on Rick again but Rick kept him at bay.

“You’re the one who jumped me, puto. Screaming about his brother like it's my damn fault,” the lad said.

“They took Glenn! Could have taken Merle too!” Daryl yelled.

The lad laughed, a fake laugh, a scared laugh.

“Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn’t name my dog that.”

Daryl thrashed to get past Rick with all his might. Rick shoved him back into a wall.

“Dammit, Daryl! Back off!”

“Argh!”

Daryl started pacing back and forth while eyeing the lad like a starving dog. Then, crossed the room and opened Glenn’s backpack.

“Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?” Daryl asked.

Daryl threw Merle’s bloody hand into the lad’s lap. The lad screamed and threw himself out of the chair, sobbing. He backed up against a wall and Daryl jumped on top of him with the bloody saw in hand.

“How about we start with the feet this time?!” Daryl yelled.

Jon and Rick rushed over and dragged Daryl off. Jon restrained Daryl while Rick crouched before the lad.

“The people you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work something out.”

The lad nodded frantically.

“I’ll take you. I’ll take you. Just please… don’t hurt me.”

As the lad began to cry, Jon watched Daryl’s face soften for a fleeting moment.

***

Daryl had called it, ‘the worse plan he’d ever heard,’.

“Fuckers are just gonna shoot y’all. Scumbags won’t give a fuck about some rat kid,” He had said.

Yet, Jon and Rick stood before the large, run-down, brick building anyway. A huge steel door, nearly as wide as the building itself loomed over them. They stood on either side of the lad, guns ready. Rick was brandishing a shotgun – an arm-long gun – while Jon wielded Needle. Jon had thought Longclaw would have been far more intimidating but Rick had insisted the opposite and topped up his ammo from the bag. In his other hand, Rick held the bag of guns. He’d donned his hat with the wide brim and golden star. The lad fidgeted and shuffled.

“Just give them a sec. Guillermo will show,” he said, again.

Before them the large, metal door, which looked like a steel drawbridge turned side-wards, suddenly began to trundle to the side. The clunking of steel filled the air and the door opened to reveal a small army of scrawny, tanned men, all brandishing guns.

Not men, Jon realised near immediately. Lads. All of them.

Each and every one of them was green boys, no older than ten and five. All except one. One lad who looked about Jon’s age stepped forward. Long, greasy black hair hung past his shoulders and patchwork facial hair strapped his lip and chin. He eyed Rick and Jon with a wild gaze that Jon doubted almost at once. He was like the wildling boys who sneered as they passed through Castle Black’s gate, too proud to show thanks and too scared to cry.

Besides the older lad were two others. A tall, lanky lad with a dopey-eyed gaze and a bald head, brandishing a shotgun and no older than ten and five. And the only fat lad who had a huge bandage on his ass and in his hands held a yellow crossbow bolt. He tossed it to Jon’s feet.

“Where’s the puto with the crossbow?!” He yelled.

The oldest lad put a hand on his chest and the fat lad averted his gaze and stepped back.

“You okay, little man?” The oldest lad asked.

“They were gonna cut my feet off, Guillermo!”

The tall, dopey-eyed lad snickered.

“Estúpido,” he said.

“Do cops do that little man?” Guillermo asked.

“No… but-”

“You gonna cut his feet off?” Guillermo asked Rick.

“Not him! Some redneck hick, man! Cut off some dude’s hand and showed it to me,” the lad said.

“And where is this redneck, hm?” Guillermo asked.

“I saw the puto, he’s the one who shot me with an arrow. Where is he, huh?! Too scared to face me?!” The fat lad, who was no older than ten and three, yelled.

“Hey chill ese, chill,” Guillermo touched the fat lad’s shoulder.

Guillermo cocked his head at Rick.

“This true?”

Rick stared at the small army of lads with a baffled look.

“Uh, yeah. It is.”

“You want Miguelito’s feet?”

“N-No, that’s not-”

“We were hoping for a calm discussion,” Jon said.

Guillermo looked Jon up and down.

“Your eye. A walker do that?”

“No. The scar is old.”

“And the sword? Is it real?”

“Very.”

Guillermo gummed his lips and considered Jon for a moment before scowling.

“Your hillbilly jumps Felipe’s little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet, Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion? Where is he anyway?”

“Heat of the moment. Mistakes were made, on both sides,” Rick said.

“He bust your face up to? Hope so. Be pretty embarrassing if it was Miguelito. Or was it Dungeons and Dragons, here?”

“Heat of the moment too.”

Guillermo looked Rick up and down, then looked back to his lads. They all brandished the scowls and sneers of scared boys, Jon knew.

“We just want our ally back,” Jon said, gently.

“We have one of yours, you have one of ours. We can sort this out,” Rick said.

Suddenly, despite being told explicitly not to, Daryl poked his head up over the edge of the surrounding rooftop, rifle in hand.

“You got my brother Merle, little bastard?!”

The fat lad and lanky lad went wide-eyed and stepped back but Guillermo simply squinted at Rick.

“That your hillbilly? Looks like a runt, mongrel. You let him threaten you Miguelito?”

Guillermo looked at the lad, who clenched his jaw and looked away.

“I don’t know.” Guillermo stuck out his jaw. “I don’t think it’s fair, vejestorio. Don’t sound like an even trade to me.”

Miguelito laughed awkwardly.

“G. Come on, man.”

“My people got attacked!” Guillermo puffed out his chest and began pacing back and forth. “Where’s the compensation?!” He eyed the bag of guns. “I want my guns!”

“It ain’t yours. We need it more than you but we’re willing to give you a few rifles, no more than three, no ammo,” Rick said.

“Half the guns. Half the ammo,” Guillermo said.

“A hoard of walkers is gonna arrive at my people’s camp any day now, we need these guns,” Rick said.

“Then move! Run away! The hell you doing here if you’re in so much danger? Huh?!”

“We’ve got children. No older than eight or nine. They need these guns,” Jon said.

Guillermo stopped pacing. He dodged Jon’s eyes and his face softened for a fleeting moment. Then, it hardened and he faced his lads.

“I’m feeling generous!” He announced. “I’ll take only a third of the guns and half the ammo.”

As the lads grinned among themselves, Guillermo quickly moved close to Rick and Jon and whispered.

“Come inside, I need to show you something.”

Rick and Jon looked at each other doubtfully, but when Guillermo began to walk back inside, they followed.

“Come on, Daryl!” Rick yelled.

“Yeah, call your mutt,” the fat lad, Felipe, said with a sneer.

Jon and Rick passed through the wide door inside the mossy, brick building and entered an utterly chaotic world. Children, girls and boys, all ran about a large, open stone space. Their playful screams and shouts echoed all around Jon off of barren brick walls and a cracked stone floor. Guillermo picked up a bucket and a pipe and started banging them together.

“Everyone out! Back to your rooms!”

Complaints rained in from all directions.

“Anyone who ain’t out of here by the count of three gets only canned peas for dinner! One!”

The children screamed and scurried away, emptying the huge open space in a matter of seconds. Muffled screaming echoed from a stairwell to the right of the entrance. Two lads dragged out a gagged and bound Glenn. Silver tape covered his mouth and bound his wrists.

“Cut him loose,” Guillermo said.

A lad brandished a knife, cut free Glenn’s wrists and tore the tape from his mouth. The lad, who looked to be about ten and two, shoved Glenn towards Rick and Jon. Jon nudged Miguelito’s back and he scurried over to the rest of the lads. Guillermo turned to his lads.

“You too, all of you out of here.”

“But, G,” Felipe began.

“Now!”

They all looked around at each other before nodding, lowering their weapons and disbanding. As Miguelito went to follow them, Guillermo caught his arm.

“Not you.”

Daryl joined them as the lads left.

“You good, man? They hurt you?” he asked Glenn.

“N-No. I’m good.”

“Where are the adults?” Rick asked.

Miguelito scowled but Guillermo just frowned.

“I’ll show you.”

“Wait. I can’t accept your offer. A third is too much.”

“No, that was just for the vatos. To look strong, you know? I’ll take your offer. Three guns, but I want at least enough ammo for two magazines each.”

“G?! What the hell, man. You gonna let these gringos screw us?” Miguelito asked.

Guillermo whacked the back of his shaven head.

“Who you yelling at, huh?!” He whacked him again. “Why’d you go stealing from these men?!” He whacked him again. “Huh?!”

“Ahh! Chill, G, chill!”

Guillermo said something in the language Jon couldn’t understand that made Miguelito’s face drop.

“O-Okay, I’m sorry,” he said.

Guillermo nodded and then looked at Rick.

“Well, how’s that sound?”

Rick chewed his lip.

“I guess that works.”

Daryl huffed and folded his arms.

“Don’t deserve nothin’.”

“Come, let’s do the deal someplace nicer.”

Guillermo headed for a door on the far side of the huge open space and gestured for them to follow. Miguelito chased after him. Cautiously, Jon followed. Rick followed him, Glenn followed Rick and Daryl followed Glenn. Daryl kept his crossbow raised with a tight grip.

***

Guillermo led them through mouldy halls, past run-down rooms and out into a lush, heavenly garden. A lattice archway covered a winding, stone path. Bushes, shrubs and hedges lined the path and flowers of all sorts of colours decorated them. At the end of the winding path was a small, ornate white building. On its lattice porch sat an old man. He beamed at them and waved. It all was nearly as beautiful as Winterfell’s Godswoods. All it was missing was a weretree. Jon put that out of his mind. The thought of home only reminded him of the cold embrace. He forced an image of Carl, Sophia and the other children being consumed by it rather than him. His stomach churned and a pulse of determination flooded through him.

Jon passed through the modest entrance of the white building and was hit with a pungent smell that burned his nose, not the way rot did, but the way a strong perfume might. The kind Sansa used to wear. But the scent lacked the sweetness of perfume and was instead bleak and harsh. Through the entrance was a hall flanked by pristine, white walls and carpeted with a fluffy grey carpet. Rick and Glenn looked around with awe in their eyes, while Daryl kept a sharp gaze and his crossbow sights glued to the many doorways that lined the walls. A tiny old woman with bags under her eyes waddled down the hall, waving.

“Guillermo! Guillermo!” She yelled.

“Abuela, we have guests,” Guillermo said gently.

“Guillermo, it's Mr Gilbert! He needs his medicine! His asthma!”

Guillermo’s eyes widened and he took off running down the hall.

“Hey!” Daryl yelled and took off after him.

As to ensure he didn’t do anything stupid, Jon took off after him with Rick and Glenn in tow. The hall led them into a large room with white walls and grey carpet. Tables, steel and crude, were scattered about. Sitting at them were ancient men and women who must have seen countless name days. Some played games, some wandered about and some gathered around a radio; a device similar to a walkie, Jon had been told. One man, who must have been Mr Gilbert, sat on a chair, coughing and clutching his throat. He was surely dead, Jon knew in his heart of hearts.

Guillermo ran to a cabinet, flung open a drawer and retrieved a plastic, pipe-looking thing. He pushed it into Mr Gilbert’s mouth and the old man inhaled into it. His coughing stopped and his hands lowered. His weathered, tired eyes beamed at Guillermo.

“Gracias, mijo,” he said in a raspy voice.

Guillermo smiled and patted the man’s hand.

Jon stared, astounded. The magic of this world was truly strong.

Daryl’s hardened gaze had vanished as he looked around the room. He lowered his crossbow and eyed Guillermo.

“You take care of them?”

“I try. I’m no doctor though. I try to find the medicine they need but their charts are all outdated. Some aren’t even filled out properly. We just feed them and protect them. All of us. They’re like us, forgotten. We stick together.”

“Forgotten?” Jon asked.

Guillermo nodded past Jon.

“Me and my boys, we all grew up together. Orphans, all of us. When the world went to shit, no one came for us. Not that anyone gave a shit before. We’ve been running our own shit in secret for years. Called ourselves Atlanta’s Vatos. When everything went to shit we came across this place, and we found them abandoned too. Now, we’re called Atlantas’s Olvidado. The guns … my boys just wanted to protect the old folks and the kids. They meant well. They just got a bit stupid, didn’t you?!”

Guillermo raised his hand to whack Miguelito but when he flinched, he grinned and laughed. Abuela walked up to Rick, craned her neck to look him in the eyes and scowled.

“Don’t you take my Guillermo. He’s a good boy!”

“Ma’am?” Rick asked.

“He’s a good boy! Not a troublemaker, you have the wrong boy!”

A deep sadness plagued Rick’s face. He choked as he spoke.

“Ma-Ma’am I’m not here to arrest Guillermo.”

Abuela squinted.

“Then why you come?”

Rick placed the bag of guns on a table.

“I’m here to give him some guns. To help keep you safe,” Rick said.

“Guns? For what?” Abuela asked.

“Abuela, why don’t you go make our guests some tea?” Guillermo said softly.

Her eyes, hidden behind wrinkled folds brightened.

“Oh! Yes, of course!”

She waddled away across the room, paused, looked around and sat down at a table smiling. Rick retrieved five guns from the bag; three rifles and two handguns. Then, three boxes of ammo.

“Half the guns, half the ammo,” Rick said.

“No, man. Come on, you’ve got kids to protect,” Guillermo said.

“So do you.”

Guillermo’s eyes welled for just a moment before he wiped them and inhaled sharply through his nose.

“Thanks, man.” He stuck out a hand to Rick.

“Don’t mention it.”

Rick shook his hand and Guillermo pulled him in. He hugged Rick and patted him hard on the back. After the hug, he grinned at Glenn and Daryl.

“No hard feelings right?”

Glenn shook his head.

“No, dude I get it.”

Daryl grunted and avoided his eyes.

“Miguelito, apologise to the nice men,” Guillermo said and raised his hand.

Miguelito flinched.

“S-Sorry!”

“For?”

“Sorry for trying to steal from you and kidnapping you!”

Guillermo lowered his hand. Miguelito relaxed and Guillermo whacked his head.

***

Jon walked with the group through the now empty streets back to the rail yard. He kept a hand on Needle in its holster and an eye on the alleys, but everything was deathly quiet. The long walk had given him another rare moment to contemplate.

“A spectre, I might be but dying all over again does no one any good. The people who once relied upon me can no longer, but there are new people who do. Their lives, like all lives, are equal. To value my lost people over these ones is far more selfish than any act of weeping. Truly, I have acted no better than a fool. To think, I regarded them as mere children. The audacity. I was the child. A selfish, entitled and arrogant boy. These people have displayed far more bravery and honour than I this day.”

Rick, wearing his sheriff's hat, carried the bag of guns in one hand and his colt in the other. Daryl strolled beside him, watching the alleys with his crossbow raised. Glenn walked ahead of them. He turned around and walked backwards with a grin on his face.

“Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat,” he said.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Rick said.

“You giving away half our guns and ammo?” Daryl spat. “For what? A bunch of old farts who’re gonna die anyhow?”

“Half was fair. Those boys showed more bravery and honour than many grown men I’ve known,” Jon said.

“It’s gonna all fall apart. What happens when a group a whole lot meaner than ours rolls through? They’ll be slaughtered. Those guns’ll go into the hands of some assholes, most like. Seriously, how long do you think they’ve got?”

“How long do any of us?” Rick asked.

Together, the group rounded a corner and came across the fence to the rail yard. They ducked through the hole they’d cut out, crossed the yard and found their truck still parked just as they left it. Rick tossed the bag of guns in the back and everyone climbed in. Rick and Glenn got in the front and Daryl got in the back with Jon. As Rick drove them out of the yard at a blistering speed, tyres squealed and the engine roared. Daryl gave Jon an odd look.

“What’s with you man? The way you talk. Your clothes. Your sword. It ain’t normal.”

Jon was quite beyond tired of the same questions being asked of him.

“I’m from another world. I died and was brought here by some mysterious force that I don’t understand.”

Daryl smirked.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Daryl burst out laughing. He dropped his crossbow and slapped his knee.

“Man, you’re fuckin’ nuts aren’t ya?”

“Who isn’t?”

Daryl laughed harder.

“Damn right. Sir Snow.”

***

The setting sun cast a homely, orange glow over the empty, desolate land. Jon, after forcing himself to, had begun to get used to the unnatural speed it could achieve. He stood by the front seats, watching the road. The streak of rot along the highway veered off from the road, crossed a field and disappeared into the woods. Rick slammed his foot down flat against a pedal and the truck had accelerated so rapidly it nearly threw Jon off his feet.

In a matter of minutes, they neared the quarry. Thunderous gunshots heralded their return, dominating the roaring engine. Volley after volley rang out, each one seeming more deafening than the last. Glenn lurched forward in his seat. Daryl shot to his feet and rushed to join Jon by the seats, while Rick’s knuckles whitened. A pit formed in Jon’s stomach.

“Are we too late?” Jon asked.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Rick muttered.

He beat on the steering wheel.

“Come on! Piece of shit! Faster!”

Rick nearly toppled the truck as he rounded the corner onto the gravel road. Down in the camp, everyone was lined up firing guns at metal cans. Shane patrolled up and down the line of shooters, grinning ear to ear. But when the truck arrived and Rick jumped out, his grin vanished.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Rick yelled.

Everyone stopped and twenty-five pairs of eyes turned on them as they hopped out of the truck. Rick marched up to Shane and Shane marched to meet him, chest puffed.

“Me?! The hell’re you doin’ man? There’s a hoard comin’ and you’re out playin’ hero instead of protectin’ your family!”

Morales stepped out of the line of shooters. He puts his arms around his kids and scowled at Rick. Daryl tossed the bag of guns at Shane’s feet.

“The fuck you think these are for, man?” Daryl asked.

“Did I ask you? Dixon?”

“Why the hell is everyone shootin’? Why aren’t you packin’ the cars? Roundin’ up supplies? Gettin’ ready to leave?” Rick asked.

“The hell you mean, leave?! This is our home! We’re fightin' them sons of bitches!” Shane yelled

The crowd cheered and waved their guns above their heads.

“Fight?!” Rick shouted. “Are you crazy?!”

“Are you?! What the hell you’d waste all that time for guns if you ain’t gonna fight, and where the hell is Merle?!”

“These guns are for gettin’ us the fuck out of here! For keepin’ us safe on the road! You ain’t seen it, man! The city, for like three or four blocks was completely empty! We can’t fight somethin’ like this man!”

Shane’s jaw clenched and he got really close to Rick.

“You’ve always been a little pussy, ain’t you?” He spat. “What kind of man ain’t willin’ to fight for his family? Huh?! You see Morales? He’s a man! A real man! He walked three hours, through all this, on his own, to protect his family! And where were you? Off saving some shithead like Merle Dixon. You see all these people? They’re willin’ to fight. They want to fight! They’re patriots! The dead don’t run this world! We do!”

Shane shoved Rick and turned back to the camp. The camp sheered again. Ed, Carol’s husband, fired his gun into the air.

“USA!” He yelled.

A chant swept through the camp.

“USA! USA! USA!”

Rick stumbled back, dumbfounded. Glenn shared a similar look, while a disgusted look festered on Daryl’s face. A great sadness gripped Jon. These people, he knew, were lost to fear. Desperately, Jon scanned the crowd for a scrap of reason. Nearly all of them had savage, manic looks plastered on their faces. But not all.

Dale looked down from his RV with weathered eyes and a frown. Andrea stood beside the RV, away from the crowd, in front of a terrified Amy, scowling. T-Dog, with Jacqui’s aid, stood amongst the crowd. Both of them looked around helplessly. Carol pulled Sophia close to her and huddled with her. Lori did much the same with Carl, but she did not cower.

Lori eyed Shane with fury to rival a mother bear. She marched up to Shane, reeled back and whacked him across the face. The slap cracked Shane’s head to the side. He stumbled and for a brief moment, Shane was a small boy scorned by his mother.

“You stupid, son of a bitch! I’m not risking my kid’s life just so you can wave your dick around!”

An older woman shouted from the crowd. Her crow’s feet flared and her pouty, wrinkled lips twisted into a snooty scowl.

“You shame yourself! Talkin’ to a man like that. Where’s your patriotism?”

“Shut the hell up, Donna!” Lori yelled.

“Don’t listen to her man, she’s just hysterical!” Ed yelled.

Shane’s gaze hardened.

“Why don’t you go back to your laundry, and calm down while we figure out how to beat this?” Shane hissed.

Lori looked ready to smack him again when a shrill cry rang out. Carl ran from the crowd and tried to punch Shane in the stomach. Shane shoved him back onto his ass. Carl bore into Shane with a savage look.

“Don’t talk to my mom like that!”

As soon as Carl’s ass hit the ground, Rick flew at Shane and all hell broke loose. Rick tackled Shane to the ground and lay into him savagely. As blood sprayed from Shane’s nose, Ed ran at Rick and tackled him off Shane, which prompted Daryl to do the same to Ed. Morales cracked a wooden bat across Daryl’s back and as Daryl buckled, with wide, fearful eyes, Glenn shoved Morales to the ground. T-Dog tried to rush forward too but was stopped by Jacqui. Lori, Carol and other women screamed at the men to stop but were drowned out the by the cheering of the camp. Jon kneaded the bridge of his nose.

“Have mercy,” he muttered.

Jon joined Dale on the roof of the RV.

“We gotta get them to stop,” Dale said. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Can I borrow this?” He asked, gesturing to Dale’s rifle.

“Uh, sure.”

Dale handed him the rifle. Jon pointed it away from the camp, out into the forest and fired. Thunder cracked through the camp, grinding the brawl to a sudden halt. Every pair of eyes went to the RV and stared at Jon as a sea of fear, confusion and bubbling hostility.

“You want to fight, do you?! Good! It’s about time you all showed some bloody initiative! As we speak there are two hundred, maybe three hundred walkers on their way. ‘Tis but a troupe! One of us is worth a hundred of those shambling corpses!” Jon pointed to the distant towers of Atlanta. “They’ll all come from that direction. We shall fell trees and create a barrier.”

Jon pointed to where the camp met the forest.

“Then we will dig ditches and lay traps, set up two rows of cars, one short and one tall, and mow down the dead as they trip and fall over each other!”

Jon’s allies looked at him as if he were made. While Shane’s band of buffoons hooted and hollered.

“That’s insane!” Andrea said.

“Have I led you astray so far?”

Jon gave Andrea a desperate look. These people were mad with fear. They were beyond the point of reason, beyond calm thought, beyond sanity. They would die here, organised or not. Better that they fight with a plan and lose but a few to the dead than be slaughtered. Jon needed her to believe him. To believe he was who he said he was. That he knew what he was doing. That he wasn’t crazy.

Andrea sighed.

“No. No, you haven’t.”

“I-I-I!” Carol ran forward. “I don’t want to fight!” She screamed.

“Shut the hell up, woman!” Ed yelled.

He grabbed Carol by the wrist and started to drag her to the tents.

“No!” She screamed. “I won’t let you do this! I won’t let you get my baby killed!”

“Mama!” Sophia screamed and ran after them.

“Shut up!”

Ed shoved Carol. She staggered and she did, Ed punched her across the jaw. Carol hit the ground hard. Blood splattered from her mouth and gushed from her nose. Sophia screamed.

“Mama, no!”

She threw herself on top of her mother. Ed scowled and reeled back his leg to kick her.

“No!” Carl shouted.

He broke free of Lori’s arms, pulled his gun from a holster on his hip and pointed it at Ed. Ed let out a yelping shout and scrambled back, hands raised. Rick sprinted to Carl and knelt beside him.

“Son put the gun down,” he said, softly.

“No!”

Tears rolled down Carl’s flushed, chubby cheeks. His tiny arms trembled like thin branches in a storm.

“I know what you do to them! Sophia told me! I won’t let you anymore! You… you… deserve to die!”

Tears welled in Rick’s eyes.

“Carl, please, if you pull that trigger you can never take it back, not ever. You don’t wanna kill a man, son. Put it down, please.”

“He’s no better than, them. A monster,” Carl whimpered.

The last light of the setting sun dipped behind the forest and a dull, darkness fell upon the camp. Ed fell to his knees.

“Please… don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Suddenly, a rustling from the woods interrupted the standoff. Carl whipped his gun towards the forest.

“Walkers!” A voice cried from the woods.

A man with scraggly facial hair and a cap, came running from the woods, tugging his pants up.

“Walkers are comin’!”

“How many, Jim?!” Rick yelled.

“A lot!”

“How far out?”

“Fifteen minutes, maybe less!”

The camp froze. Eyes darted about everywhere, to Jon, to Rick, to Shane. Fear had driven them to madness and now, it had shattered it. Jon threw down Dale’s rifle.

“We need to go! Now! Everyone get your cars!”

Screams and shouts filled the air as the camp scurried towards the cars.

“No!” Shane yelled.

Shane snatched up an automatic rifle and got ahead of them. He stood on top of a car and raised his gun above his head.

“We gotta fight, god dammit!”

“No, man! We’re out of time! We need to go!” Rick yelled.

“God dammit, you pansy-ass, sack of shit! Don’t you get it?! This camp’s our only hope! How else are we gonna be found?! If we leave, the government’ll never find us!”

“They’re not gonna find us!” Rick yelled. “They’re dead! This whole world’s dead! You’re just too fuckin’ sacred to see it!”

“Look at those skyscrapers towering above the trees! They’re invincible! This world can’t be killed that easily! I have faith! In God! In America! In all of y’all! Don’t run! Stand your ground! Take back our country from the dead!”

Silence gripped the camp. Then, stupidly, wild and frantic shouts rang out as a chorus around the camp.

“Yeah!”

“Fuck the dead! Save the living!”

“Fight for our home!”

“Fight for America!”

Almost universally, the camp began singing their allegiance. They gathered around Shane and waved around guns, knives, and even their own fists. Jon’s heart sank. These people were truly lost. He looked at Carl. He was crying into Rick’s chest. Sophia and Carol were by his side too. Ed ran off to join Shane. Lori stood tall over all of them, glaring at Jon.

“Throw me that!” She pointed to Dale’s rifle.

Jon tossed her the rifle. She took it up as Andrea, Amy, Glenn, Daryl, T-Dog and Jacqui gathered around them. Lori faced them, eyes flaring.

“We need to leave, all of us. For our own sake, and the kids’.”

“No.” Rick stood.

He pushed Carl into Lori’s arms.

“You lead them out of here. I need to stay.”

“Like hell you do!”

“I do! I can’t just leave Shane to fight this on his own!”

“He has those idiots, forget him! He tried to hurt our son!”

“I’m staying too,” Jon said.

He hopped down from the RV.

“No, you can’t,” Rick said.

“I can’t just leave these people to die. They’re simply slaves to their fear. If me staying saves even one of them, I have to,” Jon said.

“Me too,” Jacqui said.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, hell naw,” T-Dog said.

“Count me in!” Glenn said.

“Dead don’t bother me,” Daryl said.

“And me,” Andrea said.

“And me!” Amy yelled.

“No way, you go with Lori,” Andrea said.

“If you’re staying, so am I!”

“No-”

“It’s not up to you!” Amy shouted.

She marched over to the bag of guns and snatched up a rifle.

“I’ll go with Lori. I’ll watch your back,” Carol said, shakily.

Carl said nothing as he clung to Lori’s waist. As did Sophia as she clung to Carol’s. Lori pursed her lips, grabbed Rick’s shirt and pulled him to her. She kissed him, long and deep.

“You survive. You hear me, you stupid man?”

“I will. I promise.”

They shared a kiss one more time before Lori looked at Dale atop the RV.

“Are you stupid enough to stay too?”

“I’m no fighter… but I can’t just leave her here.” Dale patted his RV. “She’s all I’ve got left.”

“Right. Well, that’s your decision. Come on Carol.”

Lori clutched Carl’s wrist and hurried to the quarry’s exit. Carol picked up Sophia and chased after them. Headed by Rick, Jon and the others ran to join the crowd gathered around Shane. Shane spotted Lori and jumped from the car into her path.

“Whoa. Where are you goin’?”

“Away from this. Now move.”

Lori raised her rifle at him. Shane, again, became a scorned boy. Lori, Carol, Carl and Sophia run past him down the gravel road out of the quarry.

“We’re staying, brother!” Rick shouted.

Shane glared at them.

“What’s your plan?” Jon asked.

“We… we set up defences. Use the cars as barriers, create a choke-point at the forest’s edge.”

“How do we do that?” Someone in the crowd asked.

Shane’s eyes darted back and forth.

“The trees, we’ll cut some down to make a barrier.”

“We haven’t the time, nor the axes to do so!” Jon shouted. “Forget the choke point, instead focus on slowing the dead’s advance. We haven’t the time to dig ditches, but we can still litter the ground. Use the tents to trip their feet, boxes, crates, chairs, anything that’s knee-height!”

“The fishin’ wire!” Jim shouted.

“Yes, perfect!” Jon said.

“Andrea, Amy, you know where the wire is. Go get it. The rest of you, help me move the tents!” Rick yelled.

The crowd shouted and followed Rick to the tents, leaving Shane alone by his car, dumbfounded. Andrea and Amy ran off for the lake, and Jon ran over to the crowd. The putrid smell of rot began to fill the air.

“We need people to move the cars! Some of you come with me!” Jon yelled.

A few members of the crowd, including T-Dog and Morales, ran to the cars. Jon guided the shorter cars into a row just beyond the forming field of tents to form an arched barrier. Then, the larger, taller cars, including the RV to form a second, outer layer. Andrea and Amy returned with the fishing wire and Jon’s group rushed to aid them in stringing it between the tents.

Shane sat idly, cradling his automatic rifle and thumbing the gold cross around his neck. His shoulders were slumped and his head was hung. Jon kept a careful eye on him throughout all their preparation, unsure if madness had consumed him or not.

As they all aided in scattering chairs, boxes and all sorts amongst the tents, a gurgling hiss screeched from the forest. A walker stumbled from the trees and tripped on a chair.

“Back to the cars!” Rick shouted.

Screaming rang out as a chaotic dash for the cars broke out.

“Anyone with a rifle, get on top of the outer cars! Shoot the walkers as they emerge! Pistols and shotguns to the front! Shoot any that make it beyond the forest!” Jon yelled.

Jon vaulted the first ring of cars, found the bag of guns and tossed them to people as they came scurrying over. A shotgun to Andrea. A pistol to Amy. A rifle to Glenn. A shotgun to Rick. Most people in the camp carried a pistol, Jon knew. The issue was ammo. Jon didn’t know if there were enough rounds for two hundred walkers in the whole bag, yet alone the half they’d ended up with. All he could do was pass out as many rounds as he could and pray it would be enough.

“Y’all without guns, get on the front, use knives, hammers, bats, anything and kill the ones that get close,” Rick yelled.

Once all the ammo was passed out, Jon took his position on the front with Needle drawn. Shots fired over Jon's head as a steady stream of the dead trickled into the camp. The muzzle flashes lit up the quickly, darkening camp. Their thunder roared with such fury that it shook the very ground but the culminating cries of the dead could still be heard over it. The smell was near unbearable as if death itself walked among them.

By Jon’s side, Rick, Andrea, Amy, Morales, Jacqui and many others stood waiting and watching down the scopes of pistols and shotguns. Some, like Morlases’s wife, were pressed up against the cars, clutching blades, hammers and bats in trembling hands.

Jon spotted Morales’s children. No older than Bran and Arya, they huddled by the hood of the RV, crying. As much as it weighed on his heart, Jon hadn’t the time to move them. The hoard’s full strength burst from the trees and marched on the camp.

Daryl, Dale, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog fired rapid volleys from the RV down on the dead. Walkers fell left and right, but still a wall of shambling rot crept across the field of tents. Where one corpse would trip, it simply allowed others to walk over it unimpeded. The front row unleashed a flurry of shots. Finally, the dead’s advance slowed but only for as long as they could fire. When it came time to reload, the wall of rot inched further and further. Bodies piled up, creating hills of rotting flesh. The longer it all went on, the taller the hills got until they were taller than the cars themselves. Corpses tumbled down the hills to be slaughtered, but at a rate utterly unmanageable.

Morales was the first to begin screaming, and quickly the cry was taken up by the rest of the camp. Less a glorious war cry and more a piercing, scream. Jim screamed the loudest and as the first walker reached the cars, he rushed forward, knife ready.

“You killed my family!” He bellowed and plunged the knife into the walker’s head.

“My dad!” Morales’s wife screamed as she fell the next.

“My uncle!”

“My sister!”

“My grandma!”

“My son!”

Revengeful shouts roared over the dead and guns as the camp clashed with the hoard head-on. Needle clicked and Jon sheathed it. He drew his dagger.

“For Westeros! For America!” He cried and stabbed wildly at the dead.

One by one, the guns of the front defence clicked and soon they were all stabbing at the hoard. For a moment, a blissful, hopeful moment, they forbade the dead’s passage. And in the next, one of the dead had Morales’s wife in its clutches. As she screamed, the corpse tore the flesh from her arm. Morales barreled past Amy and dragged his wife from the dead’s clutches.

Amy fell over the bonnet of a car and several, rotting mouths descended on her. They tore her apart, like wolves to a lamb. Andrea screamed and rushed to her sister, but before she could even arrive, Amy was dragged, kicking and screaming into the hoard. In the gap where Amy had been, the dead poured past the cars.

“Retreat!” Jon cried.

“On top of the jeeps! Now!” Rick yelled.

Bloodcurdling screams pierced the air as they made the mad dash to safety. Morales scooped up his kids and wife and dragged them onto the RV’s hood. Rick tore a hysterical Andrea backwards. All while the dead blotted the front row of cars from view. The RV’s gunners helped pull people to safety, but they were outnumbered. As Jon clambered up the RV’s ladder, Jim, who was behind him, was pulled into the hoard by a dozen pairs of rotten hands. He didn’t even have time to scream before he was absorbed into the hoard.

Morales, children in either arm, scrambled along the RV’s hood. A walker grabbed his wife’s ankle. The children screamed, flew from Moralses’s arms and grabbed a hold of their mother, only to be pulled into the hoard with her. The cry Morales made was inhuman. He went to leap after them, but Jon, T-Dog and Daryl all pulled him onto the roof before he could.

Rick got Andrea onto the roof of the RV with much effort and had to work tirelessly to stop her from leaping back into the hoard.

“Amy! Amy! Amy!” She screamed over and over again.

Wails roared from the hoard. Wails of the dead and wails of agony. At first, it seemed as if the rest had made it to safety, as the rest of the camp huddled atop the jeeps. But the jeeps were only so tall. The dead rocked the jeeps back and forth, and as people began to stumble, the dead caught their ankles and dragged them into the hoard. Jon’s insides were shredded as he gazed upon their terrified, agony-ridden faces as one by one they were consumed. Seventeen innocent souls had their mortal frames torn to shreds, and their souls consumed by the cold embrace. The last to go was Jacqui. She looked at Jon with desperate eyes as several mouths tore the flesh from her bones. In an instant, she was wholly unrecognisable.

The remaining nine: Jon, Rick, Shane, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, Dale and Morales; sat atop the RV, watching hopelessly as the hoard surrounded them. Even Andrea had slumped back against Rick’s chest. She gazed at the full moon as it peeked above the trees.

All things considered, it was a better last stand than most got, Jon knew. The hoard had been thinned considerably. Roughly seventy or so walkers remained of what Jon could see must have been more than two hundred; a valiant effort.

“Does anyone have any ammo left?” Rick asked.

Daryl stepped forward and fired a bolt into the hoard.

“Nope.” Daryl spat.

“Maybe if we lay down so they can’t see us, they’ll eventually move on?” Dale said.

As if to answer him, the hoard began rocking the RV back and forth.

“W-We could jump, like the tank!” Glenn yelled through tears and sobs.

“It’s too far, they’re seven, eight layers thick,” Jon said.

“I’ll jump,” Daryl said.

“You won’t make it!” Jon said

“Gonna die if I don’t, ain’t I?!”

“We’re safe up here, they can’t possibly topple it!”

“Oh suddenly you’re an expert, are you?! Narnia prick!”

Suddenly, a rage unbecoming of Jon seized him. It burned hot in his throat. He wanted to yell. He wanted to bellow and scream and holler. And just as he gave in, a howl erupted from the forest. They all snapped their gazes towards it and saw a sight that spun Jon’s head with every possible emotion at once. A giant, white wolf erupted from the forest and descended on the hoard. It shredded through the dead with ease, obliterating them with claws and fangs.

“It can’t be. It can’t possibly be.”

The wolf looked at Jon with its piercing red eyes and howled. Jon drew Longclaw and leapt from the RV at once.

“Ghost!” Jon shouted.

Ghost barked and snarled as he fought his way to Jon, and Jon cried and screamed as he hacked his towards Ghost. He’d never heard Ghost so loud, so savage, so beast-like. They met in the hoard and together tore through the endless dead. Teeth and nails tore at Jon’s cloak until it was little more than shreds but they never broke through his mail. Time left Jon as he hacked and hacked and hacked and hacked.

#fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire #ao3fic #ffn.net #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #jon snow #jon snow fanfiction #rick grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #horror #zombie #zombie apocalypse #asoiaf art #the walking dead art

[mxddyhero]

HELLO you know who it is, I am here to submit Jason and Bruce for the ask game!!!!! Pretty please!!! 🍒

IM SO SORRY TUMBLR ATE THE FIRST TIME I DID THIS I LITERALLY THREW MY PHONE BUT YES OFC LETS FUXKING GO

Also disclaimer I've barely been into dc a year and am nowhere close to reading everything there is on Red Hood/Jason, let alone Bruce so I might just be chatting pure shit but here's hoping I convey some semblance of coherent thought <3

describe their canon relationship/dynamic

Error 404 not found tbh,, their relationship is strained and hostile at best. I do think that when Bruce first took Jason in, he had the best of intentions and he genuinely cared for him like a son in a way he maybe hadn't with Dick. Like, he related to Dick and saw himself in him, but Jason was Gotham personified. Jason was a street kid through and through; determined and calculating, adaptable and resilient, and I think in Bruce's eyes, saving him meant a step towards his ultimate goal of making his hometown a better place. But as time went on, Bruce ultimately came to appreciate Jason for Jason. Which is why their relationship now is so fucking sad, really, because Jason is still the same in many ways. He still cares deeply about the less fortunate citizens, he makes sure his guys don't deal to kids (and if they do, they pay the ultimate price for it). He's controlling crime better than Batman could've (would've) and he even forgives Bruce for not being able to save him that night. And Bruce just. Calls him angry and violent and shuns him and acts as though none of it ever mattered. Calls Jason a criminal, gives him the same label as the man who killed him, and tries to take the moral high ground because he let the Joker go on to hurt more people. Jason, moments after bearing his heart and soul to Bruce, ends up with his throat slit with a batarang and just like that all hope, all possibility of their reconciliation is gone.

your ideal/headcanon version of it? how does it differ from how it is in canon & why is this your favorite version? any other alternate versions of it you enjoy?

Honestly, WFA is basically it. And yeah, I know wfa isn't canon. I know it's a silly, light-hearted webtoon. BUT IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD AND CATHARTIC. Not even just for Bruce and Jason, but everyone in the batfam.

But main canon? I'd love for Jason to step away from Batman for a while. Like, I'm glad Jason's been making progress with Dick, teaming up with him on cases etc., but. I think he should realise that he truly has nothing to prove to Bruce. Until the Joker is dead (killed by whoever), and Bruce is okay with that, I don't see how they can have a functional relationship. Because like, even when Dick killed Joker, Bruce brought him back. So the clown needs to go, and Jason needs to figure out what he truly wants and not trying to gain Bruce's attention and approval again.

ALSO DC I'M ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING, PLEASE STOP CALLING JASON THE ANGRY ROBIN, THE VIOLENT ROBIN ETC., I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE- is pulled off the stage

what do you like about their relationship, why is it interesting or enjoyable to you?

It's not enjoyable <3 it brings me copious amounts of pain every day <3

But interesting? Not to overshare, but I have no relationship with my father either, and a rather negative view of my bio dad much like Jason so it's more like. I can relate to him and see where he's coming from on a lotta fronts. I can project ✌

what about the individual characters involved? what does this relationship mean to them, what makes it unique among their relationships?

I think that despite it all, they still mean a lot to each other.

I said it before, but the fact that Batman was willing to give Jason, a street kid from Crime Alley, lit a fire in Jason. Jason always had hope, he went out that night to get a meal for him and his mum and I don't think Bruce necessarily gave him that drive necessarily, because the kid was hell bent on surviving no matter what. But Bruce showed him he didn't have to just survive, but he could do more. Without worrying where his next meal was coming from, he could actually focus on himself as a person and what he wanted to do, and had the means and opportunity to actually do it. It made him feel like the future was limitless, like he was capable of anything and everything instead of narrowing his sights to living day-by-day and Bruce encouraged that for him. Hell, he even told him he could quit being Robin after he got hurt because he only wanted what was best for him but being taken in was the best thing that could've happened to him...

And for Bruce well. I dislike a lot of how Bruce interacts with Jason post-resurrection, to put it simply. I like to think it's because after he lost Jason, he gave up on letting people in. He cared for someone and like before, it ended in violence and a life ended too soon and he had to mourn over something that he felt was his fault again. Jason was gone for years, and he had to be pulled back from the brink by Tim, so we know he wasn't coping well and I need to think that the only reason he treated Jason so coldly when he returned was because he so desperately needed for all those years of mourning and grieving not to be for nothing or I'll go insane. It makes sense that Bruce being confronted with that fact that he couldn't keep himself in check alone after losing Jason, he preferred to just shut down instead of engaging with the feelings that seeing his son back brought. God idk if that makes any sense hsgugfs,,

I also wanna talk about Dick, even though you didn't ask but I swear it's relevant to Bruce and Jason's relationship-

Dick said growing up in the manor with Bruce was lonely, which I think is because Bruce saw himself in Dick. Bruce didn't have many people growing up, and he turned out fine (you are not fine, sir), so I think he thought that Dick could handle that way of living too to deflect his own issues. He wanted to raise him the same way he was because he was projecting, if you get me. But in Bruce's eyes, Jason had had people before. He had his mother, and the other kids from the alley and people who looked out for one another because you had to in a place like that. Of course, Dick had that too. A mother and father, the extended circus family, a lot of fans from the circus, but Bruce was too fixated on seeing himself in Dick that he forgot that because he needed to channel Dick's anger right away. Jason might've been wary and callous, sure, but he had time, so Bruce was more tactile and patient in his approach with Jason and I think that's why Bruce saw Jason more of a son than Dick, anyway-

favorite interaction they have in canon

God despite it all, there are a few.

Of course UTRH gotta be here because AAAAAAAAA (sound of wailing)... like please Bruce, he just wanted to hear how much he meant to you and to stop the Joker from being able to do anything like that again... I like to think that as much as Jason was hurt by what happened (because of course he would be, mans literally died), he was hurt on Bruce's account too, because Bruce chose to care for and open his life to someone again, and Jason was taken from him just like his parents. Like... Jason knows that pain (albeit in a different way since Willis was a piece of shit and Catherine ended up being dependent on drugs), and Bruce gave him a second chance despite everything they'd both endured. I think he wanted to prove to Bruce that it was worth trying to care for and love someone again, even despite losses, or even because of them, because Bruce gave that chance to him. And he was just. Shut down. This is sad but it's one of my favourite moments.

God this fuxking sjdghsvsjsbs 😭😭😭 LIKE YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT JASON GENUINELY HATES BRUCE... I simply do not believe it. I think he's angry, betrayed, resentful... but he still deeply cares for him and IT HURTS.

And listen. Listen to me. Grabs you by the shoulders. This fuxking chapter was so good. It means everything to me. It was everything I could've ever hoped for and more. 🥳 HEALTHY AND OPEN COMMUNICATION!!! 🥳 EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY 🥳 god it makes me so fucking shsvhdvdjd ;;;

favorite interaction they have in your head/a situation you want to put them in

Family therapy 💖But uhm fr? I want to see Jason and Bruce talking about how much Tim has grown. Talking about Damian being in the titans and complaining that he can't take his 284 pets to the tower. I want Clark to just casually drop Jason in conversation because he visited Lois the other day and they talked about the decline of modern literature. Just. Normal family shit that isn't too heavy but also not so trivial it can be overlooked as being "not relevant to the plot" or "out of character". Despite it all, they are family. And I want that to be shown more. Please.

Lin I'm so fucking sorry this is so long........ and that tumblr ate it the first time bcs the first one was so much more cohesive and concise then almost refused to post it again so I dm'd you on dsc... collapses. Tumblr in its joker arc fr rn...

#half of this is incoherent rambling im so fucking sorry #also not tagging the charas bcs i dont want it in the main tags... #d*c fans please dont come for me this is all interpretation <3 #ask game #beloved mutual #7-oh-ta1 #lin if u read all this im proposing to you 💍🙇

[whatremainsafterthebombs]

So you can get an idea of what to expect here: brace yourself

This post was written a little over a year ago. Now that I have gotten my life in a better place, I wanted to share it with you. Maybe you are in the same spot. Maybe you just like watching human train wrecks. Either way, I hope you discover something within the words of this blog that enrich your life. If not, feel free to laugh at how much I suck. It’s ok. We all need people that make us feel better about ourselves in one way or another. Thank you for coming here.

Many have written on the minds of vets since the war on terror kicked off in 2001. Some of them were inspired pieces of work; some were uninspired pieces of shit. I tend to think of my writing as the latter, and yet here you are: reading my shit spread across paper. The joke’s on us both, I guess. The things I write have a tendency to shift back and forth between real and not real, fact and fiction. If you spend time trying to figure out where that line is, you are missing the point. What matters is the thought. The borderline raving thought that has, at times, nearly convinced me that I was schizophrenic. I want to tell my brain, before it finally eats itself, that it put in a good effort. There are a large number vets who struggle with the thoughts that run through their minds. It is difficult to turn the switch from “killer” to “just some guy” for some of us. With that difficulty comes guilt and shame. We hide our thoughts, and our shame, for those we care about. We don’t tell you what we think about because then you would know how fucked up we are. You would distance yourself from us if you knew. Worse yet, you might feel sorry for us, and we don’t need your goddamn sympathy. Just pretend you aren’t freaked out by us, perhaps have a drink or two with us, and we will appreciate the try. By the time you read this, I am not sure what will have become of me. My life is falling apart around me, and I am too bitter to do anything about it. There is a chance you are some editor sorting through the drivel of wannabe artists scrawling shit across pages with better prose than I am capable of writing. Knowing that you read any of my shit is cathartic, I guess. I hope I am still alive by the time you give up trying to read it so you can tell me to go fuck myself for wasting your time. If you do, I’d probably tell you that the joke’s on you. You read it, after all. My time as a member of the armed services has passed. My chance as a would-be professional MMA fighter has ended. My law school classmates have begun pursuing the success they earned with their time and money. I work at a jail and a GNC. My titles of ranger, mma fighter, and law student from a top school have all gone. Now, there is only me. Without a title, I’m not much of anything except lonely. I’ve tried to be something better than I am, and I’ve failed. I could use a “thanks for trying” right about now. So here you sit, whoever you are, ready to launch yourself into yet another vet’s literary wet blanket. I hope that between the blatantly apparent self-pity and self-loathing you can see the almost childish hope for something better that I have always carried with me. It is in here somewhere, between paragraphs about children getting blown to smithereens and women getting fucked to death. Find it or don’t find it, it doesn’t really matter. Thanks for trying. Update two decades later: Afghanistan has fallen, suicides are up, and I'm a raccoon trapped in a dumpster, swimming in my own shit. Remember folks: good times don't last, and bad people do.

#afghanistan #veteran #armedforces

[virmillion]

youu know what maybe it's a good thiing ii dont have a boyfriend at the moment because the current state of my vernacular means there's a non-zero chaance that he'd say some cute shit and my only response would be "pogchampion" or "asymptotic my dude"

#labhrambles #ok2rb #welcome to! i no longer giive a shit about my busted keyboard #let me be clear this does not change my desire for a bf right now iimmediately #it took me thiis long to work oout my gender shit which was the prerequisite for figuriing out the Gay Shit #bc i couldnt like guys as a girl bc it didnt feel right vs liking guys as a guy etc etc u get it #ANYWAY. boy for boy. where the fuck is he #also. obviously it wouldn't be THAT bad if i called him asymptotic because i did therapy so ii have standards now >:) #whoever i end up with will either appreciate that shit or will be gone before the sun iis down

[gay-dorito-dust]

Deadly nightshade

Idea by @aestheticpisces

A/n: don’t ask why I called this fic ‘deadly nightshade’ I just did cuz I couldn’t think of anything original and deadly nightshade is normally known for it’s poisonous effects so I decided to equate loosing Steven to ingesting deadly nightshade. Painful.

A/n/n: this was shit near the end I’m sorry.

You were sat there long after Harrow has gotten what he wanted, you however didn’t have the strength. Not when you had just witnessed the other half of your soul getting shot before your eyes; you had to restrain yourself from screaming in fear that either you or Layla would become the next dead body to float besides his. You didn’t know what to do, the loss weighed too heavily on your shoulders yet it was Layla who found the strength to keep going while as you could only crawl towards his body as though you regressed to an infantile state until you were knee deep in blood coloured waters; bringing his body into your arms, ignoring the quickly dampening fabric of your clothes the more you brought him closer to rest his head against your chest. You didn’t flinch at the cold that bite into your skin because you too felt as though you had died then and there.

You ran your hand through his drenched hair, pushing away the strands that clung to his skin as you pressed your forehead against his colder one, praying to feel an ounce of warmth within the vast sea of rigid cold for you to savour, nurture and grow. Yet nothing. It was only a matter of minutes but to you it felt longer, drawn out to excruciatingly painful extents that you sometimes wonder if it was still on going without you being aware of it. “I don’t know if you can hear me but,” you ran your tongue along the dry skin of your bottom lip, fighting back the tightness within your throat as you tried to get a word out without breaking down into a riven of tears. “But please wake up, this isn’t funny. It’s actually quite mean and I don’t like it.” Your vision blurred with unshed tears as you reached a hand to weekly tap his cheek three times, something you always did whenever you wanted Steven’s attention or whenever he was on the brink of falling asleep at work and Donna was nearby. Your mind, body and soul refused to accept that he was gone. That he was taken from you permanently in the worst possible way, instead believing that everything so far has been nothing but a bad dream or a horrific and elaborate prank should he awake and scream ‘surprise.’

Not even that happened. What did however was you mustering the inner strength to drag him out of the watery depths, muttering under your breath of how he’ll catch a cold even though that wasn’t going to be a concern if he was already dead. His face looked between peaceful and pained. You thought to yourself as you eyed his face the best you could through teary vision; His brows were furrowed as though bracing for impact while the rest of him seemed relaxed as though he’s been waiting for this for a long while. Which ever one it was you didn’t know as your mind was searching desperately for ways to cope with the loss in a way that didn’t break you that wouldn’t leave you psychologically scared. The silence was a quiet beyond quiet almost as though you could hear your own thoughts, your breathing, everything from the sounds of sloshing water to the sounds of droplets falling from the fabric of your clothes and onto the floor; Or that could’ve been your tears but you were too numb to tell the difference anymore because nothing mattered anymore and all you wanted to do was lay down beside him and wait for the worse to come so you could join him soon enough. Yet decided against it for squeezing his hand in hopes for a squeeze, a finger twitching, any reaction you could get would be much appreciated. Again, nothing happened.

You took your gaze off of him and instead decided to look towards the decorative ceiling in an almost prayer, “I don’t know whoever is listening but i would really like Marc and Steven back, I’d do anything to have them back but I can’t for I am a mortal and not a deity of omnipotent power. I swear if I was one i would give up everything if it meant getting the man I love and my friends ex-husband back to us. Just give me a sign-“ vigorous coughing cut you off as Marc sat up within your arms, attempting to regain his breath as he looked down as his chest where two matching wounds that should’ve greeted him seemed to have disappeared miraculously. Before he could make sense of it all you brought him tightly against you, gripping at his clothes desperately to make sure he was real beneath your touch that you swore your knuckles were burning with the same need to feel his warmth as you were. “Oh my goodness! Your okay! Your okay! Your okay!” You cried, pulling back to hold Marc’s face in your hands as he started back at you with a sense of melancholy. His eyes looked into you as though he could see your every emotion, your every feeling you’ve ever felt. The smile faltered from your face when you noticed how tightly he was clenching his jaw and the prolonged periods of time where he’d kept his eyes closed as though he was holding back tears of his own.

“Marc, where’s Steven.” Marc inhaled sharply at his alters name as though pained, he grasped your hands in his as he brought them closer to his face so that his face was partially covered; when you were just about to ask why he was hiding and why he was avoiding the question until you felt tears dropping into your hands. They started as little trickles before becoming full blown sobbing that had your heart breaking for the mercenary. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry y/n but…Steven. He…he…” Marc couldn’t finish his sentence as he finds himself hysterically crying into you hands once more. He felt as though he failed you, failed Steven, failing everyone who had ever put even an ounce trust in him. You were probably expecting him to bring Steven back with him but he couldn’t even do that and he HATED himself for it. He couldn’t do anything right, everything he touched eventually dies, he didn’t want you to be the next victim in promise to Steven. God that idiotic dork, having more bravery then Marc ever did in that moment that he couldn’t help but remember that moment fondly but that didn’t last long when he remembered what Steven last said to him besides his name. ‘Take care of y/n for me. Okay?’ His words haunted him all they way back to the realm of the living. He couldn’t even look you in the eye and tell you that the man you were dating was no longer present. That he had valiantly sacrificed himself for Marc’s sake.

“It’s all my fault.” As if you heart couldn’t break anymore just hearing his voice crack beneath the weight he placed upon his shoulders. You had an inkling that there was a reason Marc was the way he was but never asked for it wasn’t your place to ask such personal questions. Yet it must’ve been a cold day in hell if Marc Spector was crying into your hands, relieving himself of the pent up emotions he’s had since god knows when and you knew for a fact it wasn’t healthy. “No, Marc Spector, you’re wrong. You’re not at fault here, you never were.” Your voice, now strong and powerful made the ex-mercenary lift his head to look you in the eyes. “Whatever happened wherever you were it wasn’t you fault for any of it. Steven wouldn’t blame you and I wouldn’t either because I could tell you’ve been through so much shit Marc and came out more harmed then healed. I didn’t get it at first but now I understand why you wanted to keep Steven away from all this,” you waved a hand towards the room you were in with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t appreciate you as much as I should’ve for doing what you were doing. You didn’t have to protect Steven but you did and I could never thank you for that. I don’t think I could ever repay you even if I could, I wouldn’t know where to start.” You wiped away the tears that started to collect at the corner of Marc’s eyes, “I thank you for protecting Steven till the bitter end Marc.” Marc felt tears prickle his eyes when he listened to your every word, waiting for something backhanded to come up but instead found nothing but pure honesty. “Then why do I feel like a failure?” He asked, voiced broken with raw emotions that left him gasping for words to express them within.

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the revelation that Marc never viewed himself as worthy or as good of a person. Not even once and probably not even during his childhood either. So you grasped his shoulders and brought him into a tight hug, feeling him tightly hug you back as equally as tight while he cried into your shoulder chanting ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath over and over again. “Never say your sorry unless it’s worth apologising for.” You said as you rubbed Marc’s back soothingly, “Steven wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for things out of your control and I don’t want you continuing to think your inherently bad for not being able to save everybody because that’s an unrealistic expectation to put upon someone. And for the record, I think your doing amazing. Your doing amazing Marc and I know Steven thinks that too.” Marc didn’t say much other then squeeze you tightly in his arms as you both sat there in each other’s company in relative silence as you both mourned for the loss of an amazing person.

Without meaning to you began to giggle which made Marc draw back from you as he stared at you as though you had two heads, cocking s brow he asks, “what’re you giggle away about?” You only smiled wider at the memory, “remembering the time Steven chased off a flock of birds in defence of my chips.” Marc couldn’t help but smirk at the visual of Steven giving a pigeon a strict talking to as to why they shouldn’t take your chips as you were standing idly by trying not to laugh. Steven was certainly a character Marc had to admit but a strong character indeed if that goof managed to snag you up with his dork like attributes and interests. He has told Steven how lucky he was to be with someone like you and he hadn’t regret a single word of it as he watched you treasure the memories of him with love and affection that spilled every time you talked anything in relation to Steven. You were defiantly a keeper in Marc’s eyes…if only Steven was here to share the moment with you…”what happened afterwards?” The mercenary asked even though he had already saw this memory and how flustered Steven was when reliving it but loved to get your perspective on it as well. “Steven tripped over his shoelaces and the birds gunned for his chips instead. So out of the kindness of my heart I offered some of my chips to him and knowing Steven he refused, refused, refused but I told him ‘I’m not letting you go without something to eat so eat’ before shoving some of my chips in my polystyrene container.” You both burst out laughing, trying your hardest not to combust on the spot when sharing your favourite memories with Steven to Marc im that you almost forgot that you were meant to take down a cult leader and his cult. Almost.

#moon knight imagine #moon knight imagines #moon knight x reader #moonknight x you #moonknight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight imagines #steven grant x you #steven grant imagine #steven grant imagines #marc spector x reader #Marc Spector imagines #Marc Spector imagine

[charles-rxwlands]

lay all your love on me

okay!! so this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge.

this is based off of the song lay all your love on me, slowed, by putin

pairing: nikolai/reader

rating: general

tags: gn!reader w/ gn pronouns, fluff

summary: falling in love with nikolai lantsov told through several vignettes

or: mindless nikolai/reader fluff with a alina and ivan being little shits

warnings: right off the bat there's a nightmare about drowning in the ocean, and there's one (1) swear word at the end, but other than that, there's nothing

word count: 4.1k

read on ao3

constructive criticism, feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated !

I haven't written anything in a while, so i may be a bit rusty, but please enjoy :)

You were drowning, and also pretty damn sure you were going to die out here. Your lungs were on fire, screaming for air, but you couldn't emerge from the ocean for long enough to suck in a breath. Sure, your hand or head breached the surface every now and then, but a wave would come crashing down on you immediately after, destroying all your progress.

      The undulating waves threw you around like a football - a very pathetic one, at that. As hard as you tried to fight the current, it still insisted on moving against you (stubborn bastard), so really you weren't going anywhere. Just pathetically bobbing around in the same pathetic place. You couldn't feel your limbs - the only thing you could feel was the agonising ache in your chest. It was as if your arms and legs had frozen over along with your will to live.

      How easy it would be to just... 

...let the ocean take you...

      Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the wrist. You screamed, which was a mistake; immediately, salty seawater filled your mouth, making you gag and choke. Nevertheless, you valiantly tried to release yourself from whoever - whatever? - had their hold on you. 

      "Y/n, Y/n! Relax, darling, relax," a voice said, sounding out of breath. "It's me."

      You whirled your head around. Sagging with relief, you gasped out the name of your saviour. "Nikolai."

      "Yes. Yes, Y/n, my love, it's me. It's Nikolai," he soothed, running his hands over your wet hair.

      "Nikolai," you breathed. "Nikola-" - a wave reared up on its hind legs, ready to come crashing down onto your friend, ready to take him away - "no, no, Nikolai, NO-!"

   

You startled, eyes flying open. You were shaking like a leaf. Were you cold, or was it just the adrenaline from the nightmare still making its course? You shook your head as if to rid your mind of the dream. It wasn't real. Nikolai had saved you that night. It was fine. It wasn't real.

      But it could very well have been real, a traitorous voice in your mind whispered. Scowling, you cursed your pessimistic side. Even if a wave had separated you two, Nikolai would have fought tooth and nail to get to you again. You would have done the same. After all, you were childhood friends, and you knew better than anyone that Nikolai didn't let go of his loved ones so easily.

      He hadn't wanted you to accompany him on his journey overseas as Sturmhond. You insisted otherwise, channeling some of Nikolai's stubbornness that had rubbed off on you. ("You're not getting rid of me that easily, idiot. So let me come, unless you want me to steal your kneecaps."). 

      A half-smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the memory. Slowly, you got up from your bed. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders. You slipped out of your cabin quietly, walking down the hallway until you found yourself in front of Nikolai's room. He stirred in his sleep when you entered. The door creaked slightly, but it didn't seem like his distress was because of the noise.

      You sat on the edge of his bed. Nikolai, previously facing away, turned over to face you. His eyes were still screwed shut, eyebrows knitted together and an unhappy expression on his face. You frowned. 

      "Nikolai." you nudged him gently. "Wake up. You're okay, just wake up. It's just a dream."

      He opened his eyes, blinking at you. "Y/n?"

      "Hi," you said. A lock of golden hair fell over his forehead, and upon instinct, you reached to brush it away. He let you, not uttering any of his usual complaints. 

      "You were gone," he mumbled, undoubtedly referencing his nightmare. "I- I couldn't save you, and you were gone." 

      You shifted into a more comfortable position - your whole body was on the bed now, with your back against the headboard. He leaned his head against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real. It's okay. You saved me - I'm not going anywhere, 'Lai."

      "Me either," he agreed, wrapping his arms around your middle. A beat of silence. Then, "Thank you."

      You were more than content to fall asleep like this. Even if it meant waking up with an ache in your neck. Judging from the way he was curled up, practically drinking in your presence, Nikolai felt the same way.

      What a feeling it was to have found solace in Nikolai Lantsov, and to know he had found solace in you, too.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

Nikolai watched from the corner of the ballroom as you laughed at one of Ivan's jokes. One would say that he was scowling, but the Prince of Ravka didn't scowl. No - he was simply observing your conversation with the Heartrender with visible distaste. He was not scowling. And he was not jealous.

      You and Ivan were smiling at each other, standing by the refreshments table, mouths moving quickly, the both of you obviously interested in whatever you were talking about. You threw your head back in a laugh. You looked gorgeous. Nikolai wanted to make you laugh like that - more than he wanted to admit.

      The last straw was when Ivan lay a hand on your shoulder, and then snaked his arm around you. You didn't seem perturbed by his touch - no, actually, you leaned into it. He bent down to whisper something in your ear that made you duck your head in embarrassment and lightly hit his chest. 

      Nikolai's glare deepened, if that were even possible. Okay, fine, maybe he was jealous. Did he even have the right to be jealous, though? It wasn't as if he was dating you, as much as he'd like to be.

And oh boy, he'd like to be. 

      Suddenly, Alina appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air. He flinched. "Alina." 

      The girl in question had a mischievous look in her eye. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the long, flowy sleeves of her dress falling just past her wrists. The bottom half of her gown was a sparkly gold, whereas the top half was a dark blue. The two colours faded into each other at the middle, creating a gradient effect. It was a beautiful dress. You had helped Alina pick it out yourself, if he remembered correctly.

      "Hello, loverboy." she poked him in the side, grinning knowingly. "How's your crush on Y/n going for you?"

      "I don't have a crush on them, Alina, for Saint's sake."

      "Oh, is that so? You do seem... ah, what was the word... utterly whipped for them, contrary to what you just said," she said, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.

      "Am not," he argued. "I-," Nikolai paused, taking notice of you and Ivan walking past a couple metres away. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in your current conversation to notice him. His eyes lingered on you. He only looked away when you disappeared back into the throng of people. 

      Alina let out a triumphant 'ha!'. 

      He directed his attention back to her and glared. "Alina, I swear-,"

      "Utterly. Whipped," she mouthed.

      "I will behead you," he threatened.

      She laughed. "In all seriousness, I really don't think Y/n and Ivan like each other like that," Alina said.

      "Well, of course not," he agreed. "Y/n very clearly has eyes for me. I can't say I blame them - who could resist all this? Everyone's all over me, as I'm sure you've noticed." 

      Alina stared at him pointedly.

      "Ah, except for you, of course. You seem to be the only one immune to my charm and charisma. An odd one, you are."

       She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother," she groaned. "Just swear to me that you'll tell Y/n you like them soon. Within a week. Swear on... your dignity."

      "My dignity?" Nikolai drawled.

      "Yes, your dignity, because if you don't fess up soon, I'll have to tell Y/n about your crush on them myself," she grinned smugly, and darted off before Nikolai could retort. 

      He sighed. As he saw it, he had three options:

      1. Blackmail Alina (because of course she wouldn't give in to simple bribery)

      2. Get on his knees and beg Alina to not tell you of his massive crush (there! he admitted it; he had a massive crush on you! One that he'd been harbouring for just over a year now, too)

      3. Listen to Alina, and confess on his own terms

      All three were mortifying, and things he absolutely didn't want to do. However, the last was considerably easier to do, and came with the most benefits and the least consequences. You had already seen him through his most embarrassing moments (and he through yours) so even if you rejected him, the humiliation would be minimal. 

      And maybe he wanted to confess. And maybe there was hope that you liked him back. Nikolai wasn't stupid - he knew when people fancied him. He suspected you liked him back, but then again, that could've been wishful thinking, or maybe he was misreading the entire thing.

      He didn't even understand why he was so jealous of the way Ivan and you had interacted. Before he had fallen heads over heels in love with you, his childhood best friend, people flirting with you hadn't been a problem. He'd encouraged it, even. But now, bitterness flared up inside of him every time he saw someone getting a bit too cozy with you. 

      In short, his feelings for you had completely destroyed his facade of smooth, suave, sexy Prince of Ravka. And it kind of terrified him how poorly he hid it.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai had been acting strange lately, and it was bothering you. You feared the worst - had he finally caught on to your crush? You thought you'd been subtle until Ivan had approached you at the most recent party. Apparently, the scowl on your face as you watched Nikolai flirt with the guests had been fierce enough to kill.

      Ivan had given you (unsolicited) advice, telling you to be straightforward and direct. That was what he'd done with Fedyor, after all, and that had worked out well.

      You were pacing around your room. Ivan was perched on your bed, watching you have a borderline nervous breakdown like one would watch the view. 

      "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Ivan?" you demanded. "I'm about to make a life or death decision, and you're enjoying it."

      He chuckled. "I wouldn't call this a life or death decision, Y/n. If Nikolai rejects you, he rejects you, and it's his loss. If he reciprocates, good, and you'll be free to frolic in the meadows with him, all fine and dandy."

      You stared at him, your expression communicating, "Did you really just say that?", very clearly.

      "Okay, okay, fine, I'll be serious." Ivan relented. "Just tell him, Y/n. What's the worst that could happen?" 

      Just as you were about to respond - "Well, I don't know, what if he rejects me, things become eternally awkward between us, and our 10 year long friendship is ruined because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" - someone knocked at the door. You opened it to find Nikolai waiting. His hair was perfectly styled, as always. He wore a dark turquoise suit jacket, and a simple white dress shirt underneath. The ghost of a smile appeared on your face; you had chosen the colour for him.

      "Hi, Nikolai," you greeted. 

      "Hello," he said. "Come on a walk with me. It's a lovely day outside, and both of us have been dreadfully busy lately - we may not get another chance to spend time together, I'm afraid."

      "Oh! Of course, just let me grab more suitable shoes- I'll be out in a minute- Ivan, move." You rummaged around your room in search of the sandals Nikolai had gifted you for your most recent birthday. Ivan flashed you a grin.

      "Tell him!" he whispered as you ducked out the door.

      You hoped you didn't seem too jittery as you took Nikolai's arm, even if your insides were filled with butterflies. He seemed deep in thought for the first few minutes of your walk. It wasn't until you were both outside that he finally spoke.

      "I hope you don't mind me asking, Y/n, but what was Ivan doing in your room?" he asked. 

      The question caught you off guard. Why was he so concerned about you and Ivan? It wasn't as if-

      Oh.

      Oh.

      "Nikolai, don't tell me- are you jealous?" you exclaimed.

      "Just answer the question, Y/n," he grumbled, which was enough of an answer for you.

      You laughed, only feeling a bit bad that you were so amused. Nikolai Lantsov, jealous. You found that incredibly funny. "Oh, I'm sorry for laughing," you apologised, even as another giggle escaped your mouth. "You don't have to worry, Ivan and I are strictly friends."

      He didn't seem convinced. "But the two of you at the party a few days ago-,"

      You cut him off. "Nikolai. I promise that there is nothing romantic going on with Ivan and I. And besides, I don't think I'm anywhere near his type."

      "Ivan likes men, Nikolai," you supplied, sensing his confusion. "Honestly, you need to keep up with gossip - he and Fedyor have been going strong for nearly three months now."

      "Oh," Nikolai said.

      "Yeah, oh."

      "And, uh, do you? Like men, I mean?" 

      You bit back another laugh. "Yes, I do. One man in particular, actually." 

      "Is that so? Care to clue me in on who this man is?"

      "You." 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

"You."

      As soon as that single word came out of your mouth, Nikolai's brain short-circuited, and several alarms blared in his mind. ALERT! ALERT! THE PERSON YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LIKES YOU BACK! 

      He was too stunned to speak, which was definitely a first. So, naturally, he didn't speak, but instead leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed chastely against yours. A pause. 

      "I- I'm really sorry, Y/n, I should have asked beforehand-,"

      "Nikolai." you took his face in your hands. "Shut up." 

      And then you kissed him, and if his brain had been short-circuiting before, this was a full blown system failure. Sparks flew inside of him, and he was acutely aware of you and you only. It was a wonderful feeling, one that he immediately missed when you pulled away.

      "Wow," you said. 

      He grinned. "I'm that good of a kisser, huh?"

      When usually you would come up with a witty response, you just smiled. It was a smile Nikolai was pretty sure he'd die to see again. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Falling in love with Nikolai had been a long process. Your simple crush developed into something deeper like a leaky faucet dripping - slowly, but steadily. And then the realisation that you were in love with him hit you like a tidal wave. Drowning you, consuming every inch of your being, but not necessarily in a bad way.

       You came to your epiphany while laying awake in bed one night after a whole day spent with the esteemed King of Ravka. It was a wonder that you'd managed to spend a whole 10 hours or so in his company without getting fed up, Tamar had teased. He did annoy you - and had today - but you bullied him back plenty enough. It was easy being with him. Easier than you were used to. 

       You loved the way his eyes sparkled after correcting someone on their use of the word 'impossible'. Loved how he devoted himself to his country so selflessly. Loved how he smiled at you so genuinely and lovingly, even when you didn't have the energy to show your love in return after a bad day. Saints, you loved him so, so much, and you were so in love with him, too, and-

       Holy shit. You were in love with Nikolai.

       You were in love. With Nikolai.

       A childish giggle bubbled up inside of you, and you sighed happily. What a feeling it was to be in love with the King of Ravka, even if he didn't know it yet. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

You twirled a small flower around in your hands as you walked side by side with Nikolai, your shoulders brushing occasionally. The taller blades of grass tickled your ankles, and a gentle breeze weaved through your hair. The sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, warming your face.

     Nikolai intertwined your fingers, sighing in content. He craned back his neck to meet the sunshine, eyes fluttering shut. He looked stunning, just standing there with his almost otherworldly beauty as light spilled over his fine features, highlighting every detail.

     "I'm in love with you," you blurted suddenly. "I love you, and I'm also in love with you, so. Yeah. I'm in love with you, Nikolai Lantsov."

     You gave yourself a mental round of applause for your eloquence and tact.

      He blinked. "Oh." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, turning into a full-fledged grin when he finally processed your words. "Oh. I'm... I'm in love with you, too, Y/n L/n."

      You beamed back at him, and cupped his face in your hands. You gently ran your fingers against his cheeks, tracing a line down to the base of his chest. The fabric of his shirt was thin and soft, unlike the suffocating material his suits were made of. Lovingly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. Your heart fluttered. Saints, you adored Nikolai. More than you could put into words. 

      "I love you," you whispered. "I love you so much, so intensely that it consumes me, and I'm drowning in it. But instead of it being hard to breathe, it makes breathing easier. It makes everything easier." 

      You interrupted your little speech by kissing him, just because it felt appropriate, and continued. "I was so lost without you, Nikolai. I didn't realise it, because as I've proved time and time again, I'm more than capable of holding my own-" you smirked as he rolled his eyes at the jab to his overprotectiveness "-but I was. I was a boat lost at sea, floating around in the waves, with no destination and no goal except surviving. Then you came along, and gave me solace. You were my salvation. You and your endearingly stupid jokes and your wild yet grounded behaviour. You're my anchor, Nikolai." 

      He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the happy way. 

      "I would pay you back with a monologue of my own," he said. "but all I can think of right now is how perfect you are, and how much I want to kiss you."

      Your smile widened, if that were even possible. You met him midway, lips connecting almost desperately. The only coherent thought running through your brain was 'Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.'

      Nikolai.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"That one looks like a dragon," you said, pointing out a lumpy cloud in the sky.

      Nikolai tilted his head to the left. It was rather cute - he looked like a puppy, trying to figure out what its owner was saying. His right eyebrow curved in an upward arch (you still had no idea how he managed to raise a single eyebrow at a time), and he pouted slightly. Adorable.

      "I don't see it," he deadpanned.

      You sighed and shook your head, dismissing the cute puppy ideology. "Nevermind," you huffed. As hard as you tried to pretend you were upset with him, a smile teased at the corners of your mouth, anyway.

      "I'm sorry, darling, but I really don't!" he exclaimed, flopping back into the picnic blanket you two had laid out. Really, it wasn't even a picnic blanket. It was just a blanket. The two of you hadn't had time to find a proper one before embarking on your impromptu picnic. Nikolai, ever the improviser, had then brandished a quilt from Saints knew where. You suspected it came from Vasily's room, because who else would be pompous enough to own a red velvet blanket the size of China?

      You dramatically exhaled again. "I already said nevermind. Not all of us can be blessed with a creative vision such as mine, after all."

      Nikolai laughed. And Saints, the sound was downright melodic. You didn't even want to begin thinking about all the things you'd do to hear it one more time.

      A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Eventually, he began stroking your palm with his callouses fingers. You bit back a smile, and linked your pinkies together. A gathering of clouds mostly covered the sun - enough to allow only a bit of warm, gold light to seep out. You wondered briefly how Nikolai looked right now, basking underneath the faint sunshine. 

      The answer came to you easily, even without looking at him: fucking beautiful. 

      However, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring at him. The last time he had caught you gaping at him like a lovesick fool, he had teased you endlessly. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if he didn't stare at you. No, actually. He stared at you all the time. In fact, he was doing it right now.

      You bit back a grin when you felt his eyes on you. But before you could tease him for it, he got up suddenly, offering you a hand.

      "Come on," he urged. "Follow me."

      "Where to?" you questioned curiously.

      He smirked. Tugged on your hand. Winked. "You'll see." 

      "Right, that's not cryptic at all," you muttered. 

      Eventually, after a minute or so of walking (and plenty of you trying to weasel more information out of him) the two of you had seemed to reach your destination. A huge tree hung above you, offering its shade. You plopped down, but Nikolai remained standing.

      Strangely, he was looking rather nervous. Repeatedly tugging at the collar of his beige button-up shirt, and kicking at the grass. 

      "Y/n, darling, don't just sit there, you're making me nervous," he whined. 

      You giggled, but stood up anyway. "I could say the same about you. What's on your mind, dear?"

      He took a deep breath, and looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you, Y/n. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I always have, and always have been. It's just- you're wonderful. And intelligent. And charming. And I am so, so glad you are my partner - in the romantic sense, and the platonic sense. If I'm being honest, I'm quite sure I'd be tearing at the seams without you to sew me back together every time I do something particularly foolish. 

      And I hope you'll always be there to ground me. Because I will always be there for you. Th-there's no other way to say this, my darling, but I'd quite like to spend the rest of my life with you, so..."

      He brandished a dark blue box from his back pocket (this probably wasn't the time, but you had to mention that you could never fit something that large in your pocket. Why did men's clothing always have bigger pockets?) and got down on one knee. 

      "Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Y/n?" he finished.

      Holy fuck. Holy mother of Saints. Holy everything. Was this real? Saints. This really was real, wasn't it? Nikolai Lantsov was proposing to you.

      A sob escaped from your throat, and you nodded frantically, not wanting him to think you were upset. "Yes," you said. "Saints, Nikolai, yes."

      He smiled. You knew that he smiled a lot, but this smile was different. Usually, he just grinned or smirked in a devilish way - this was more of a beam. He looked so genuinely happy (genuinely happy, because of you!) that it made your heart soar, and you were pretty sure you fell in love with him all over again for the second time. You'd never get tired of it, though. Not when it came to Nikolai (Nikolai, your husband-to-be!). Never when it came to Nikolai.

      You soon found yourself enveloped in a hug. He spun you around, both of you laughing (and crying). When he set you down, you could have sworn you saw his eyes welling up.

      "Now, my love, those better be happy tears," he tutted.

      "Of course they're happy tears, you stupid puppy dog!" you sniffed. "I love you."

      He beamed into your hair. "I love you, too, Y/n."

      What a feeling it was to be in love with Nikolai Lantsov, and to know that he was in love with you, too.

#uservignette #magpie's 1.2k #nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse fic #reader insert #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lanstov imagines #reader #x y/n #x reader #event fic #fanfic #nikolai duology #fluff #grishaverse fanfiction #grishaverse fandom #vig's writing

[shemarmooresfedora]

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Content/Warnings: swearing, mentions of mother abandonment

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Chapter 4

“You have a call from an inmate at the Washington D.C. Correctional Facility. To accept these charges, please press 1. To decline-,” you punched in the 1.

“Hey Spencer,” you greeted him.

“How did you know it was me?” he grinned.

“There’s not too many prisoners calling me, believe it or not,” you teased.

“I was calling to see if you could do me a big favor,” he spoke.

“What’s up?”

“My lawyer has told me that JJ told her my mom isn’t doing so well. She’s in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” he informed you.

“How can I help?” you asked.

“Could you bring Callie to go see her? I really think a familiar face could do a lot of good for her.”

“Of course, I’m 5 minutes away from her school. We can head right over,” you stated.

“Thank you so so much. Also, she doesn’t know I’m in prison so tell Callie just to tell her I’m away on a case. She’s in a fragile condition so it’s best to just say yes to everything she asks,” Spencer explained.

“Will do. If you are able to stay on the line for a few more minutes, you can say hi to Callie,” you told him.

“I was the last in line so I should be able to. I’ve got 6 minutes left,” Spencer said.

A bit of an awkward silence filled your car.

“So…are there any more injuries I need to attend to before work tomorrow?” you asked.

“No, I’ve got some help,” Spencer spoke vaguely.

“Okay, that’s good, I guess,” you pulled the car to a stop as Callie hopped in the passenger seat, “Your dad is on the phone, Callie.”

“Hi Dad!” she greeted.

“Hey sweetheart. How’s it going?” he asked.

“Really good. At soccer practice today, Coach told me I’m going to be a starter next game,” she beamed.

“That’s amazing! I wish I could be there to see it,” Spencer frowned slightly.

“Which is why I bought a camcorder so I can record the whole game for you to watch later as well as other things you may be sad to miss,” you said.

“Y/N, as much as I appreciate all you do for us, you need to stop spending so much money. I feel bad, I’ll reimburse you as soon as I’m out.”

“Spencer, I’m a doctor who rarely goes out and my closest friend is a cat. I have some money to spare,” you assured him.

“Why are you going left here?” Callie asked as you made a turn that wasn’t on your usual route home.

“Your dad wants you to visit your Grandma,” you replied.

“Callie, she just needs a familiar face so talk to her about your new school, soccer, anything but me going to jail,” Spencer explained, “Okay, I have 30 seconds left. Bye, love you, sweetheart!”

“Bye, Dad! Love you too!”

“Stay safe!” you added.

-

You walked up to the receptionist's desk with Callie, “Hi, she’s here to see Diana Reid.”

“Hi Callie, long time no see! No Dr. Reid today?” she asked.

“No, he’s away on a case,” you smiled politely.

“Callie, she’s in her room, dear,” the receptionist directed you down the hall.

Once you were outside the door, you stopped, “I’ll wait out here. Remember, your dad is on a long case. You are staying with the LaMontagne’s. And just agree with the stuff she says to not upset her,” you reminded Callie, “I’ll be right out here when you’re done.”

Before you had a chance to sit down in the waiting room, the door swung open.

“Grandma!” Callie exclaimed.

“My dear Callie,” she hugged her.

She looked up at you, “Is this who I think it is?”

You thought back to Spencer’s words.

She’s in a fragile condition so it’s best to just say yes to everything she asks.

“Um yes?” you answered.

“Callie’s mom! Oh my! I haven’t seen you in ages. I forgot what you even looked like, I remembered you differently. Forgive me, dear, could you remind me of your name?” she asked.

You looked to Callie for help but she looked just as confused as you and shrugged. She must not know either.

“Y/N,” you extended your hand for her to shake.

“What a beautiful name,” she smiled, “Come in! Come in!”

“So Callie, how has my favorite granddaughter been?” she asked.

“I’m your only grandchild, Grandma,” Callie playfully rolled her eyes, “I’ve been really well! Y/N-I mean Mom actually got me into a better school and I’ve been keeping busy with soccer and clubs and hanging out with friends.”

“That’s wonderful to hear! Y/N, how are you doing?” she turned to you.

Shit. What the fuck were you supposed to say?

“I’ve been well,” you simply stated with a nervous smile.

“Are you and Spencer dating again?”

I suppose you had to agree to this too.

“Yes, we are,” you nodded.

“Well, I hope you are back for good this time,” she stated.

That seemed kind of back-handed but maybe deserved, you didn’t know Callie’s mom’s backstory. You just continued to nervously smile through the rest of the visit as Callie caught up with her grandma.

-

“Well that was awkward,” you sighed as you got back into the car after the visit, “I need a milkshake.”

Callie was silent all the way to the drive-thru and as you ordered two large chocolate milkshakes and fries.

Finally, she spoke as you parked the car in the parking lot to eat, “I mean you’re more of a mom to me than my own mom. Dad never really told me much about her. She must have left when I was a baby because I don’t remember her at all.”

“I’m sure your dad has his reasons for not telling you but you must know that her leaving wasn’t your fault at all,” you told her.

“Who would leave a baby and my dad?” she teared up.

“I don’t know, honey,” you pulled her in for a hug, “It was her loss though whoever she is because she didn’t get to see what an amazing girl you have become.”

-

“Reid, visitor,” the guard called out.

Please let it be Callie and or Y/N, Spencer prayed.

He needed a ray of sunshine in his otherwise completely dark week. He didn’t want it to be the team or his lawyer asking if he remembered anything else because he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He slumped out of bed and let the guard cuff him on the way to the visitor room. His pace quickened when he saw you waiting there for him, just as beautiful as always.

You smiled at first when you saw him but it morphed into a frown when you saw fresh bruises forming.

“Spencer, I thought you said you had help,” you whispered.

“Apparently not all of the time,” he mumbled.

You bit your bottom lip worriedly, “Well, I brought my med kit.”

You got up and started to inspect his face.

“How did the visit with my mom go?” he asked.

“Good, I guess,” you replied.

“You guess?”

“She saw me before I went to the waiting room. I said yes to everything she said but that included her thinking that I was Callie’s mom and that we were dating,” you grimaced.

Spencer sighed, “Oh god.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do,” you apologized.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. You were just doing what was told. Did Callie have questions?”

You nodded.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair, “I knew this day would come but I’m still not prepared. I just avoid thinking about it at all costs.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it and maybe I can help you put the right words together,” you offered.

“Um okay, her name was Austin. I met her on a case. She was a bartender. We were long distance for a bit. She got pregnant early on in the relationship. We decided to try to make it work. She moved in with me in D.C. and had Callie. When Callie was about 4 months old, she got overwhelmed and just left…just like that. I went to the park with Callie and came back to find all of her things gone and a note that just said ‘sorry’. I haven’t heard from her since. We were trying to force a happy ending that wasn’t there,” Spencer finished.

“Well lucky for Callie, she has one amazing dad and that is more than enough,” you reassured him.

“And a pretty kick ass foster mom,” Spencer smiled.

“I try my best,” you grinned.

A/N: i have a smut one-shot (not related to this series) coming out tomorrow and i’m very excited about it

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#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fic #cm fanfic

[kpop---scenarios]

Torn Apart (2 Final)

Pairing: Surprise! x Reader

Warning: Smut, Sadness, Angst Maybe? Mean People

Word Count: 5.4k

It had been weeks. 

Weeks of sobbing into your pillow, weeks of feeling like things were going to get better, until you found the most insignificant thing that belonged to Chanyeol and you broke down all over again. You missed him. You missed his touch, his warmth, his smile, the way he made you laugh when you were sad. You missed it all. You were broken, and it was all Chanyeol's fault. 

Until you scrolled through Instagram, and saw pictures of him with Maya, that bitch. You had never hated anyone in your life until you had met her. You couldn't even begin to fathom what even slightly redeeming qualities Chanyeol saw in her, but apparently there was something to that wench.

You were curled on your couch in the fetal position as you cried at the ending of Strong Girl Bong Soon. You wished you had a love like that. The way An Minhyuk loved Bong Soon was the relationship you wanted, the one you would strive for. He loved her so much and you just wanted to be loved by someone like that. 

You groan loudly as your doorbell rings, and then whoever pounds on your door. You didn't want visitors, you didn't care who it was, you wanted to hermit. 

"What?" You yelled from the other side of the door. 

"Y/N, let me in." You hear from the other side. You recognized the voice immediately. 

"Baekhyun, I look like a troll. Kindly leave." You sigh. 

"Y/N, if your trolly ass doesn't let me in, I will break down your door." He threatens, which makes you laugh for the first time in days. You both knew he would never be able to do that, and he would likely end up hurting himself. 

"Baek, you would break your leg." You say, pulling the door open. On the other side was a sympathetic Baekhyun, who had tissues, ice cream, chocolate and a bag full of movies. You smile at his kindness. "You know I have Netflix right?" 

"Shut the fuck up and move, this shit is cold." He barks, moving past you and into your kitchen. "Look, I have all the necessities. We will get you through this. Because I for one, cannot stand the sight of Mayeol and I want to gouge my eyes out, and I need someone to do it with." 

"I don't understand how that has anything to do with me." You say, grabbing two spoons.

"Sehun is gone, he's so in love with those two, hes bordering being a psychopath, Jongdae and his wife are just tolerating, Suho, Kai and Kyungsoo are avoiding them like the plague and Minseok and Lay have been MIA, so you're my last hope, Y/N." 

"I really don't want to talk about him, Baek." You admit, the hole in your heart somehow feels larger than before. 

"That's fine, I'll stop, let's start a movie." He suggests, grabbing a random one out of his bag. 

And for the next few hours, that's all you guys did. You watched movies, making comments, laughing and you genuinely had a good time with him. It had been so long since you actually felt happy and you were grateful to Baekhyun for bringing at least a little joy back into your life. 

Until he left, and you were alone again. All the feelings came rushing back, except they hurt a little less this time. You didn't miss him quite as much. 

** 

The next day, at the same time, your doorbell rang again. You open the door, your eyes puffy and bloodshot and you see Baekhyun standing there again, a new flavor of ice cream in hand, a new kind of chocolate, and a new bag of movies. This time he said nothing to you, instead pushed his way past you and through the door, setting everything down on your living room table as he popped in the movie. You smiled to yourself before turning around to join him, it felt nice to be cared about, and the fact that he was going out of his way to do this for you, and make you feel better. You truly appreciated Baekhyun. 

As he sat there and watched the movie, you watched him. The way his eyes lit up at a part of the movie he enjoyed, the face he made when he took a bite of his ice cream, the wrinkle he had in his nose when there was a cheesy scene. You never truly noticed how handsome Baekhyun was until now. His distinct jawline, his large hands, his toned body, you briefly.. very briefly began to wonder how large his..

"No Y/N, no. Do not go there with your existing bestfriend." 

You quickly shake off the thought, moving your eyes to the TV screen, trying to focus. 

"How are you feeling today?" Baekhyun asks, sliding his phone back into his pants pocket. 

"A bit better, I guess." You answer. Before Baekhyun could say anything there was another knock at the door. "That's good." He smiles, standing up. "There are some people who wanna see you." He says, opening the door. 

Minseok, Suho and Kyungsoo file through the door, looking at you with pity as they all sit, surrounding you.  

"Hiiiii." Suho pouts, protruding his bottom lip. "How are we feeling today?" 

"Um, hi." You laugh. "I'm fine." 

"Oh good, so we can go." Kyungsoo pipes up, standing up and walking towards the door. 

"Sit." Minseok sighs, pointing back at the seat. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, shuffling back to his spot and flopping down. 

"She's fine, Chanyeol is fine, so why are we here? Everyone is fine." He groans. 

"Have you seen him? Is he fine?" You hesitantly ask. You weren't even sure if you wanted to know. 

"Oh he's more than fine." Kyungsoo groans. "He and Maya are all over each other all the time. It's honestly nauseating. Like I want to be able to eat my sandwich without hearing your girlfriend moan when you kiss her." He gags. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head, tears welling in your eyes. These were most definitely details you did not need to hear about your ex and the girl he cheated on you with. All the men whip their heads to look at you, who now had your head hanging low as your shoulders shaked. They all look back at Kyungsoo, with only one speaking up.  

"That's it." Baekhyun growls. "Kyungsoo, get out." He spits, pointing to the door. 

"What did I do?" Kyungsoo asks, innocently. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, looking at you, softly whimpering into the sleeves of your sweater. 

"Out. Now." Baekhyun says, giving him the middle finger before flinching as Kyungsoo stands up, whispering "Don't hurt me."

"Don't listen to him." Minseok sighs. "Kyungsoo has zero social cues, he also could not read a room if his life depended on it." 

As Kyungsoo opened the door to leave, in rushed Lay, who looked at the man leaving and just nodded his head, realizing he had probably said something rude and was asked to leave. It wasn't the first time and would not be the last either. 

"Y/N." Lay breathes. "How do you feel about tall, muscular men who sing?" He asks. 

"I do enjoy them. Why?" You ask. 

"I have a friend from the hospital.. I think you two would get along really well. He's in his third year of surgery residency and is looking to date. I may have shown him your picture and he instantly said yes." He tells you. 

You look around the room, Suho and Minseok are nodding enthusiastically, while Baekhyun sits with his arms crossed against his chest, and a pouty look on his face. 

"What do you think?" You ask Baekhyun. He looks up at you, his face softening immediately. 

"I uhh, it's up to you. Yanno, if you're into muscular, tall men.." he mumbles.

"You know what? Sure, yes, I will. Chanyeol and Maya are out there living their best lives while I'm sitting here sulking, mourning a love that clearly didn't mean as much to him. So yes I will go out with him." You announce, perking up already. "When?" 

"Tonight." Lay says. "More specifically, an hour." 

"I need to get ready." You smile, jumping from your seat to rush to your room. You slowly peak your head around the corner, softly smiling at your friends. "Thank you, you guys. You've all really helped me these last weeks. I greatly appreciate you all." You finish, heading back into your room to quickly throw yourself together. 

By the time you were done, you had 15 minutes to spare, and you were damn proud of what you accomplished in the last 45 minutes. You showered and shaved to become a hairless human from the eyelashes down, you managed to get the knots out of your hair and it looked in decent shape, as well as hide the semi-permanent redness of your eyes with a lot of makeup. You almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror when you looked. You didn't see the heartbroken girl anymore, you saw someone confident, hot and worthy of a great love. 

Stepping out into the living room you blush at all the 'oohs and ahhs' from your friends. 

Except for Baekhyun. 

When you looked at him, his eyes shined and for some reason it made your heartbeat a little faster. You watched his eyes trail up and down your body, seemingly taking in every curve, every inch of you. When he notices you staring, he clears his throat and looks away. "You look prettyish." He mumbles as he walks away, there's a knock at the door. Baekhyun is the one to answer and looks up at the tall man. 

"You must be.." he begins, moving out of the way, letting the man walk in. 

"Hi." He smiles at you. "I'm Matthew." He says, holding out his hand. 

"Hi Matthew." You grin. "Y/N." You finish, introducing yourself. 

"It's really nice to meet you. You look phenomenal." He says, holding your hand up to spin you around. You can't help but let out a loud laugh as a blush spreads across your cheeks. 

"Thank you." You whisper. "Shall we?" 

He waves to Lay and everyone else before taking your arm in his and leading you out the door. You left three excited men behind you and one who felt annoyed but didn't quite know why. 

** 

You hadn't laughed so hard until tears rolled down your cheeks and you held your stomach for a very long time. You honestly were surprised at how much you and Matthew had in common. You both enjoyed the same type of music, food, and pastimes. You had yet to meet someone who loved the same authors as you, who enjoyed doing your favorite activities and who genuinely seemed like a great person but here he was, sitting right in front of you at this nice restaurant. 

"I have to admit something." Matthew begins. Your stomach drops as you feel like he's going to tell you he's married or has a girlfriend, something that's going to make you lose trust in men, again. 

"Go on." You say, forcing a smile before taking a sip of your drink. 

"I really like you." He grins. "It's insane, I have never met someone I had so much in common with until tonight." 

"I was just thinking the same thing." You laugh, feeling relieved at his confession. You liked Matthew, he seemed as though he would be good for you and treat you right, although you thought that Chanyeol would do the same and look how that turned out. 

Beep 

Beep 

Beep 

Matthew's pager beeps incessantly. He takes it from the waistband of his pants, checking the page and stands up abruptly. "I'm so sorry." He sighs. "I have to go, there was an accident and I'm needed in the OR." He explains. 

"Go." You say, waving your hands to emphasize. 

"I had a wonderful time Y/N, and I hope I get to see you again." He grins. He places down a few hundred bills on the table before kissing your hand, and with a wink he was off and your heart was pumping fast as red spreads across your cheeks. 

Oh boy. 

Your blush is still present as you walk through the door of your apartment. You see Baekhyun sitting on your couch with his arms crossed as he watches a show, not even acknowledging your presence. 

"Why are you still here?" You ask, tossing your purse on the chair. 

"I wanna hear all about Matthew." He mimics, rolling his eyes. "How was your date?" 

"It was really nice. We have a lot in common, which is strange. He seems really nice and we get along amazingly. He was paged into surgery so it ended early." You tell him. "So cool." 

"Oh wow, surgery huh?" Baekhyun says, nodding his head. "Did I tell you I'm auditioning for a band?" He smiles. 

"Are you really?" You ask, a little shocked. 

"Maybe." He says, clearing his throat, turning back to the show. 

You sit beside him, you dress riding up just a little to expose your thigh. You're focused on the show, barely realizing that Baekhyun has now rested his hand on your bare thigh, his thumb lightly rubbing the same spot. 

Why did you feel butterflies? Why was your pussy throbbing? It's probably just friendly, there's no way Baekhyun has feelings for you. 

Right?

As the show played on, your eyes became increasingly droopy, feeling the exhaustion and excitement of today finally catching up with you. Your eyes slowly close as you lean your head back onto the couch. 

You weren't sure when it happened, but you woke up, what you're assuming is a few hours later with your head on Baekhyun's lap while he gently rubbed your head, running his fingers through your hair. Your body shivered at the gentle sensation and you closed your eyes once again, feeling safe and happy as you dozed off. 

** 

When you woke up the next morning, you were laying on the couch, alone with a blanket draped over you. Your eyes searched your apartment and there was no sign of Baekhyun.  You had no idea when he had left but a part of you felt a little hurt that he left without saying goodbye to you. You rolled yourself off the couch and shuffled into your room, changing your clothes to something more comfortable. 

When you were done you made your way to the kitchen to find food when your front door opened. In walked Baekhyun with a large bag from your favorite food place. 

"You didn't." You grin. "It's so far away." 

"I did, and it was worth it to see the look on your face." He laughs, setting the bag down on the table. 

The two of you sit down, and have breakfast together and chat. You hadn't realized that Baekhyun actually had a lot in common with you as well. You didn't know why the two of you had never talked about these things but you felt like it was a crazy coincidence that two men match with you so well. Although you knew Baekhyun's feelings were strictly platonic, there was no way that he felt anything romantically for you. 

"I gotta go to work, but we'll hang out later, if you're up for it?" He asks, throwing his garbage away. 

"Of course." You smile. You look in his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes and you just want to melt. You liked Baekhyun, alot. Maybe it was just from how good he's been treating you lately, or maybe the feelings were real, you would never know because you were going to focus on changing your feelings for Baekhyun to feelings for Matthew, someone you knew you actually had a chance with. 

** 

Later that day you were doing some work on your computer for the company you work for, luckily you're able to do your work from home, giving you plenty of time to be free during the day for activities. You're brought out of your zone by a text from Matthew, asking you if you wanted to grab a late lunch around 2pm, and immediately your mood changed, and you happily replied that you would love to. 

At 1:50pm, you sat at the restaurant, a drink in front of you while you waited for Matthew. Seeing him walk through the door, your heart did a mini dance as he smiled at you, heading towards the table you had already gotten. 

"Hey there beautiful." He grins, sitting across from you. 

"Hi." You giggle. "How has your day been?" 

"Busy and stressful, but that's all been forgotten now that I have you in front of me." He says. You smile widely, burying your head in your hands. He was so sweet, and you didn't know how to react to it. After the two of you order, you're in the middle of a conversation about a movie you had each recently watched, when out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone familiar. You look over and at a table that was too close for your liking sat Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Maya. Your attitude, demeanour and mood completely changed when you noticed them. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. You look at Matthew who instantly looks concerned. 

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" He asks, leaning in closely to whisper to you. 

"T-that's my ex.. and the girl he chose over me, and his best friend who I'm still friends with." You whisper, nodding your head towards them.

Matthew discreetly looks over and notices the blonde man looking in your direction, pain in his eyes from the moment he saw you. 

"Look at me." Matthew whispers. You look up at him, trying to control the tears. "That boy is an idiot for giving you up. You are one in a million. You're smart, funny, beautiful, caring and an all around amazing person to be around. Don't give them anymore of your tears, princess. They don't deserve them, and you don't deserve to cry over them." He smiles. 

You sit up, taking a deep breath, smiling at the man across from you, staring at his beautiful smile. You glance over to the table and see Chanyeol staring at you, sadness in his eyes while Maya glares at you and Baekhyun, he stares at you with what seems like a look of anger. He glares in your direction, his face like stone and you had no idea what you did to make him so mad at you. 

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" Matthew asks. 

You nod your head, knowing you didn't want to be in the same restaurant as Mayeol, it was bad enough to have to be in the same city as them. Matthew grabs the check, escorting you out, his hand hovering over your backside as you walk out, the feeling of eyes watching you burning into your back as you exit the restaurant.  You and Matthew stand outside your door, and he smiles at you. "I'm sorry about the date." He sighs. 

"It wasn't your fault. If anything I should be sorry." You say. 

"You did nothing wrong." He tells you. "I have to get back to the hospital now, but I'll call you." He says, leaning down he presses his lips to yours quickly before pulling away and saying goodbye. 

You walk into your apartment, feeling a little confused. That didn't go how you imagined it at all. As you're trying to get out of your sundress, there's a knock at the door before someone walks in. You turn around and see Baekhyun standing there, watching you. 

"You looked pretty comfortable and intimate with what's his name." He blurts out, walking towards you. He stands closely behind you, you can feel his breath on your neck as he pulls down the zipper of your dress. 

"Yeah well you looked pretty comfortable with fucking Maya and Chanyeol." You retort, trying to storm away from him. Your dress slips off your body, landing on the floor. Baekhyun follows you, reaching out to grab your wrist. He spins you around to face him. He pulls your body closer to his. 

"What do you want?" He asks. You don't answer, your lips parted as you try to form a sentence. Baekhyun's eyes drop down to your lips. He licks his lips and sighs. You can feel his breath, so close to you, almost kissing you. "What do you want from me, Y/N?" He asks. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You look into his eyes, one word on the tip of your tongue. 

You. Just say it. You want him. Tell him. 

But you say nothing. 

Baekhyun sighs. "That's what I thought." He says,  moving away from you and picking up your dress from the floor. He hands it to you, leaning in to press his lips against your temple. "Call me when you know what you want." He says, walking away from you and out the door. 

What did that mean? Did he want you like you wanted him? Why couldn't you have just told him right then and there? 

You were scared. You were scared of rejection, you were scared he didn't mean it, maybe his feelings towards you weren't real. But then again, you would never know unless you talked to him. 

Later that night you laid in your bed, thinking about Baekhyun. You couldn't sleep, so you grabbed your purse and your keys, drive aimlessly around town. A little while later, you glance at the clock that reads 2am, you park your car and you pull out your phone and call him. You felt like you were going to vomit as the phone rang. 

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered. 

"You." You whisper through the speaker. "I want you."  

"Y/N." He breathes. 

"Open the door, Baekhyun." You whisper. 

You can hear him get out of bed and stomp towards the front door. He pulls it open and there you are, your phone pressed against your ear, wearing a nightshirt and shorts. 

"I want you." You say again, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

Baekhyun pulls you inside, slamming the door behind you before pinning you against the front door. 

"Fuck it." He groans, crashing his lips against yours, pulling your body in closer to his. His hands roaming your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands move under your shirt and up your torso, cupping a bare breast. He groans into the kiss as he pinches your hard nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He presses his crotch into your leg, allowing you to feel his hard cock pushing against his boxers. 

You reach your hand down, sliding it into his waistband, grabbing his cock and slowly pumping, making his knees buckle. 

"Fuck." He murmurs, breaking the kiss. He leans his head into your neck, placing small kisses as you stroke his cock. 

Suddenly he stands up straight, pulling your hand from inside his boxers. He grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 

"Take off your clothes." He growls. 

You maintain eye contact as you slip your shirt off your body, dropping it to the floor and the shimmy off your shorts, letting them pool around your ankles. You stand there naked in front of Baekhyun who takes in every curve and crevasse of your body. 

"Get on the bed." He whispers. You move to the bed, slowly climbing on and laying on your back. 

"So fucking beautiful." He moans, crawling on top of you. "I just wanna be inside you." He whispers. You nod your head, giving him all the consent he needs. 

Baekhyun spits on his hand, pumping his cock. He lifts your legs over his shoulder before lining him up with your entrance. He pushes himself into you, stretching your pussy out, making you cry out loudly. 

It had been so long for you, you forgot what it felt like to be fucked. Your hands grip the bed sheets as Baekhyun slides his cock in and out of you slowly. 

"How do you want it, baby?" He asks, moving slowly still. 

"Faster." You moan. "Fuck me Baekhyun." 

His eyes become dark after hearing your words. His hands wrap around your ankles as he starts thrusting harder into you, the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

"Oh god." You cry out, your hands cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples as he pumps his cock into you. 

Baekhyun releases one of your legs, placing his thumb between your lips to rub your clit. He rubs in circles, making you clench around him. 

"Just like that." You cry out as you buck your hips. You knew you were going to cum soon, you hadn't had an orgasm since Chanyeol left. 

"Fuck." Baekhyun groans. 

"I'm gonna cum." You scream as he fucks you harder, and continues to rub you. 

Your orgasm hits you, making you scream out in pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tighten around Baekhyun once again. 

He groans loudly, suddenly cumming, shooting his load inside of you, breathing heavily as he works through his orgasm. 

"Holy fuck." He sighs, pulling out of you. He lays next to you, and you snuggle into him, not caring about the mess, just being completely and utterly happy in the moment.

**

"So.." Baekhyun starts off the next morning, as you lay in his bed, tangled in his sheets. You have one leg and one arm sprawled across him as you snuggle in closer to him. "What about Matthew?" He asks.  

"I called him yesterday after you left, and I told him I didn't think things were going to work out, but I would like to remain friends." You explain. 

"And he was fine with that?" He asks. 

"He asked if there was someone else." You sigh. "I told him I wasn't sure, but I hoped and he wished me luck." 

"I didn't like you seeing him." Baekhyun admits. "It hurt but I felt like I couldn't do anything." He says. 

"Why?" You ask. 

"Because.. Chanyeol is my best friend and you were his." He tells you. 

"Chanyeol made his decision, and he chose Maya. I'm free to date whoever I want, and I want you." You whisper. 

"Oh baby girl." Baekhyun growls. "You have no idea what you do to me." He whispers, rolling over on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, never having felt so wanted or loved. 

** 

It has been a few months of you and Baekhyun dating, and you've kept it under wraps for the most part, wanting to stay in your little bubble of happiness. But now your friends were getting suspicious and you felt like it was time to tell them. And what other perfect time to tell them then at a dinner party that everyone is attending. 

That night you and Baekhyun had brought a spinach and artichoke dip that you made together and it was the best thing ever. You told Jongdae and his wife the news first, and they were both extremely happy for the both of you. 

Next, Minseok, Suho, Kyungsoo, Kai and Lay were told and they were all happy for you two, except Lay who was disappointed that things didn't work with Matthew, but he was happy that you were happy. 

You all sat around the dinner table when Chanyeol, Sehun and Maya walked in. Things instantly got tense and quiet the minute they entered the room. They hadn't noticed you yet and you could feel the knots forming in your stomach. 

"Hey guys." Chanyeol smiled, looking around the room and then his eyes landed on you and his smile dropped. 

"Hi friends." Maya chirps up, not realizing you were there until Sehun pointed it out, quite loudly and rudely. 

"Why is she here?" He asks, nodding his head towards you. 

"Because she's our friend." Jongdae pipes up, glare at Sehun.

"It's just weird." Maya comments, sitting down at the table. You ball your hands into fists under the table. Baekhyun reaches under the table, grabbing your hand to calm you down, showing you he's there and has your back. 

"It's not weird, actually." Baekhyun pipes up. "What's weird is coming to a gathering when you know no one here likes you. That's weird." He says, looking at Maya. 

"Baek." Chanyeol sighs. "She's my girlfriend." He says, as if that's a good enough reason. 

"Okay." Baekhyun says. "And she's mine." He says, nodding towards you. "So tell your girl to show some respect." 

"You're what?" Chanyeol asks, staring at you and Baekhyun, not even acknowledging the fact that Maya is sitting there with her mouth open and offended. "You're dating my ex-girlfriend?" 

"I am." Baekhyun says, not caring about Chanyeol's reaction anymore. 

"You.. you can't do that." He says. 

"And why not?" Baekhyun wonders. "You left her. You chose that over this amazing woman. You have no right to be angry here. You broke her, tore her apart and I'm putting the pieces back together." 

"I don't want her here." Maya pouts. 

"And no one wants you here." You chime in. You were tired of her and she had only been here for a few minutes. 

"Chanyeol." She whines, nudging him but he's still not paying attention to her, only looking at you and Baekhyun. 

"So.. what did you guys bring?" Lay asks, nodding towards their dish.

"Buffalo chicken dip." Maya says, with a smile.

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes. "You mean you're still making the recipe that Chanyeol and I made together?" You ask with a smile on your face. 

Maya's smile instantly drops, looking at you with disgust. "Chanyeol." She yells. 

"What?" He snaps, turning to look at her. 

"Do something." She whines. 

"You don't have to do anything, man. We're gonna go. Thanks for having us, Jongdae. It's been interesting." Baekhyun says. He looks at you and holds out his hand. "Ready?" He asks you. You smile at him, taking his hand and walking out, hand in hand with the man who made you the happiest you've been. 

** 

A few days later you're in your apartment, singing and dancing as you clean up the place. You no longer missed Chanyeol, his name no longer brought pain to your heart, seeing things that reminded you of him no longer made you cry. You had Baekhyun now, and he treated you like a queen. 

You're walking past your front door when you hear a faint knock. You open it slightly and see an exhausted looking Chanyeol standing on the other side. 

"Can we talk?" He asks. 

You didn't want to hear what he had to say, but you decided to be nice and let him in. 

"What?" You ask, sitting on your couch as he stands in front of you. 

"I fucked up." He blurts out. "I should have never chosen Maya over you. I didn't realize what I was doing at the time, Y/N, please forgive me. I miss you. I miss us. We were great together." He breathes. 

You're shocked. You had spent weeks crying over him, wishing for him to come to you and say these words to you but now it was too late. 

"You're a little too late now." You say to him.

"I know you're with Baekhyun, but I had you first." He says. 

You scoff at him. "How dare you? How could you come here months after you left me for Maya and beg for me back when I'm finally happy again? It took a long time for me to be okay. Baekhyun has been there for me, he was the one who helped put me back together. You chose Maya. You made your bed." You yell. "Get out Chanyeol." 

"Y/N please." He begs. 

"No, you need to leave. I don't want you. I don't love you anymore." You tell him.

Chanyeol walks out the door, looking back at you with tears in his eyes. You felt no remorse for him. You had felt the way he was feeling, it was his own fault and you refused to be torn apart by him  again. Chanyeol was now your past, and Baekhyun was your future and you couldn't be happier about it. 

#exowritersnet #kpopscape #noonasinnetwork #exo #park chanyeol #byun baekhyun #kai #kyungsoo #bm #matthew kard #lay #suho #sehun #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #exo smut #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writing #kpop icons #kpop imagines #kpop smut

[talatomaz]

beautiful | diana prince x fem!reader

a/n: happy new year !! this takes place during 1984 but before the actual plot of the movie happens. this is really long so sorry in advance

warnings: mentions of attempted assault. sexual references

word count: 3.4k

masterlist | request list | request rules

reader is a woc and works at the smithsonian as an antiques realtor. after they receive several artefacts specific to ancient mediterranean culture, she enlists the help of diana prince, a senior anthropologist. reader works closely with her and finds herself starting to develop feelings for her and one day, she’s saved by a mysterious female heroine and figures out diana is not all she claimed to be

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Thank you.”

You smiled to the delivery boy as you showed him where to place the fragile artefacts the museum had just received. It was your job to evaluate whether they were of any value, and if so, whether it was more prudent for them to be sold to someone else or put on display for people to visit.

The moment you were left alone, you’d opened the smallest box in order to determine where these artefacts were from, more specifically, when. You picked up, what appeared to be, a device of some sorts, fit with several random gears. Evaluating the rust and corrosion, you noted on your clipboard that this may have been a Cypriot artefact from the early Bronze Age.

As you made your way through the other boxes, you were about a quarter of the way through when you noticed that all of these antiquities appeared to originate from the Mediterranean. And you knew the perfect person to help explain more about their culture to you.

You gently placed the artefact you were currently examining back in its respective box, locked your office door and made your way to the senior anthropologist who was an expert on the culture.

Lifting a closed fist, you lightly knocked on the door and waited patiently for the door to open, smiling at the person who stood in the door frame when it did.

“Afternoon Miss Prince, are you free for a quick chat?”

You didn’t know Diana Prince all that well, having only interacted on a number of occasions but each time you had, she was incredibly kind and friendly. She had been at the museum longer than you had and was one of the first people to introduce themselves to you and make you feel welcome.

Honestly, there wasn’t much that you knew about her.

She was an enigma.

In the broadest of terms, that was.

By definition, an enigma is someone who is mysterious and difficult to understand.

Now, whilst the brunette was definitely mysterious, she was, by no means, difficult to understand.

One look in her eyes and you immediately saw her for all that she was.

She may not have said more than 5 words to you, but her eyes told you a story. Someone who had gone through immense hurt but remained kind and bright, even in the darkest of times.

Her eyes were beautiful, as was the rest of her. Though that did seem like an oversimplification. She was a goddess, as if sculpted by the Gods themselves - how true that was, you didn’t know yet - and despite that, she never seemed to let her beauty be her one overriding factor. She was extremely smart and intelligent and so much more. Which was why you enlisted her help.

“Of course. Please take a seat.” She said, smiling when you did. “So, how can I help you, Miss L/N?”

“Please, call me y/n. Miss L/N makes me sound like my mother.” You joked.

“Well, then please call me Diana.” She replied in her accent that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You nodded, “So I’ve just recently come into possession of some ancient artefacts. As you know, I’m required to estimate their value and decide what the museum should do with them. However, it seems that the artefacts I’ve currently examined, all appear to be specific to Mediterranean culture. Now considering you’re our resident expert on that, I figured-”

“That I could come and help you determine it’s authenticity and explain more about them.” Diana finished.

“Exactly. But if you’re too busy, I compl-”

“No, it’s okay.” She interrupted quickly. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’d be happy to help. I’m glad you came to me, y/n.”

Your lips curved in a smile as you fought to keep the blush that would have certainly risen to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” You asked, standing up, about to head back to your office.

“Lead the way.”

***

For the next month or so, you found yourself working quite closely with the anthropologist, the Smithsonian board having told you both that they wanted you to help create a display for the artefacts to be put on show for the community. Though that meant more work for you, you were secretly grateful because, truth be told, you found yourself developing feelings for the brunette. But you never said a word, knowing she wouldn’t feel the same about you.

You were working late one night, about to leave, before you noticed the light that was on in one of the hallways. Apart from you, you knew that the only person who’d ever stay this late at the museum was Diana. Her, seemingly more committed to her job than you once realised.

Knocking on the door, you waited until you heard a quiet “come in” before entering the office room.

Neatly placed around the room were several boxes, more than likely filled with paperwork and published papers. Her navy leather sofa sat at the far end of the room with a coat draped over one of the arm rests. In front of you, was Diana’s desk. It was as tidy as the rest of the room, papers orderly placed at the ends of the desk, a small lamp placed at the corner and a computer which Diana had been typing on.

Her face softened into a smile when she saw you and she sat up against her chair.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up?”

“Not much. I was just about to head home but since I saw your light on, I figured I’d come by and say goodnight.”

“That’s sweet. Since you’re here, why don’t I walk you out? I was planning on going home myself.”

“Sounds good.”

She grabbed her coat from the sofa and put it on. After locking her door, she walked beside you towards the entrance of the museum.

“You know, it’s a beautiful night and it’s not that late either, why don’t we get dinner?”

You stopped in your path for a brief moment before continuing to walk.

She was asking you to dinner.

Holy shit.

You knew it wasn’t a date since you had had several dinners together whilst working at the artefacts.

But the idea that it could have been still excited you.

And terrified you.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

You had eaten at this cute restaurant, sitting outdoors so you could both bask in the stars. You’d fallen into easy conversation with the brunette, never experiencing any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences. You talked about nothing and everything; every time you made her laugh, you couldn’t help but smile yourself because her laughter was genuine and brought warmth to you.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight, Diana.”

“Me too. I know you don’t get out much so I figured you deserved a break.”

“Hey! What do you mean ‘I don’t get out much’?” You said, feigning being offended while truthfully, you were failing to hide a laugh.

“I’m not judging. Just...making an observation.” Diana laughed.

“Hmm sure. Well, how about you? Are you out often?”

“No, not really.”

“Wow. Now look who’s not a social butterfly.” You joked.

“Yep, we’re just two peas in a pod, huh y/n?” Diana said, smirking when she saw a light blush of red on your cheeks.

***

After that night, you found yourself regularly going out to dinner with Diana and it was getting harder to hide how you felt.

Sometimes, you had a sliver of hope that she felt the same way because she would make excuses to touch you, whether it be gently brushing her hand against yours or stroking her hand against your arm.

But you immediately quelled those thoughts. There was no way someone as beautiful, sweet and smart as Diana would like you.

Shaking your head, as if to rid the thoughts from your mind once more, you walked through the alley that was a shortcut to your apartment.

Abruptly, you felt yourself pushed up against the brick wall, a knife against your throat. You fought the urge to scream, knowing any movement with the sharp blade that close to you would certainly result in bleeding.

“Good girl. Be quiet and don’t scream. Otherwise the next piece of trash left in this alley will be you.”

The moon allowed for you to get a better look at the man holding himself against you. You only saw his face, however, his mouth curved into a creepy smile, reminiscent of Dr Seuss’ The Grinch.

“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” Even his voice felt slimy, bringing a look of disgust on your face.

“Fuck off.” You said, showing no fear. Oddly, you found yourself feeling calm. Some people may fight and others may flee. But of course, you taunt and curse.

“Oh, you’re going to be fun.”

You readied yourself for anything that may happen, waiting for the opportunity where the blade’s pressure would lighten, allowing you to kick this guy and run away.

But before you could, you felt all pressure against you immediately leave. Looking up, you caught a glimpse of a woman in armour pulling the man off you with, what appeared to be, a glowing yellow rope. The man still held within the rope, she jumped up on the roof and disappeared.

But not before the moonlight had provided some clarity as to who this mysterious figure was.

It was her eyes.

You had difficulty sleeping that night. It was not the attempted assault that had kept you up though, it was the woman who had saved you. You recognised her eyes but the more you thought about it, the more perplexed you became. There was no way Diana was whoever this woman was. But it was her eyes.

This back and forth continued til sunrise when you finally decided to push it from your mind. Yes, her eyes may have been familiar but you hadn’t seen her face nor heard her voice. And if, and when you did, you would then make an assumption as to who she was.

***

“Morning, y/n.”

You looked up to see Diana standing outside your office door, dressed in a simple pantsuit that she somehow made look glamorous.

“Morning, Diana.”

“How are you? Are you okay?”

You carefully noted the thinly veiled concern in her tone before answering.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brow raised in question.

“No reason. Just wondering.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve just been finalising some things for the display tonight.”

Time had flown by and you were disheartened when you realised it meant the two of you wouldn’t be seeing each other as often; the two of you would go back to your own lives and separate work.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, having been broken from your thoughts when you saw real concern on her face.

“Yeah?”

“You went a bit dazed there for a moment. Are you sure you’re okay?” Her head tilted in question, her hand lifting to gently caress your arm.

“Yeah, sorry. Come on, let’s finish off this display.”

You had trouble focusing whilst you worked, eyes constantly glancing over at Diana, your mind wondering. You knew that even if she was who you thought she was, it had no effect on how you felt about her. She was still the same Diana that you knew.

Just...more badass than you’d first thought.

The two of you left the museum early evening so you could get ready for the gala the Smithsonian was putting on to show off their new Mediterranean display.

Whilst you had put quite a few antiques up for sale to various buyers and other museums, the large majority of them you had advised the board to keep; explaining how, in the long run, it’d prove more valuable.

You got dressed in a black dress that was hemmed below your knees, a low but classy ‘v’ cut shaped plunged neckline to reveal a small diamond necklace that matched with your earrings. You rarely wore makeup but tonight was an exception so your lips were painted a deep red that complemented your tanned skin and your hair was left free, light curls bouncing against your back.

Once you had arrived back at the Smithsonian, you made your way to your boss and the rest of the board who complimented yours and Diana’s work.

You looked around, wondering where the latter was.

As if summoned by sheer thought alone, Diana appeared beside you; her appearance leaving your throat dry. She was dressed in a long navy dress, a long slit in the side showing off her toned legs. She wore a gold bracelet around her wrist, her lips painted bright red, her curly hair surrounding her face.

“You look stunning, Diana.”

“Thank you. You look beautiful too.” Her smile reaching her eyes.

The next couple of hours were spent rotating around the guests and several investors who commended the both of you on your work whilst simultaneously making sizeable donations to the museum.

Truth be told, you hated this part of the gala. You believed that people should appreciate the art rather than wanting to line up their own pockets. It was the main reason you often avoided company events such as these but since tonight was something you’d organised, you needed to be there.

You were currently speaking with an older male whom you knew was an avid investor. Diana had been pulled aside by another investor who wanted to know more about a certain piece of art.

As you engaged in a polite conversation with the man, you felt a shift in his tone as he became more untoward with you. His words were slurring slightly, having consumed several glasses of champagne, and he starting to make inappropriate advances by grabbing your hand or saying wildly unprofessional things.

“Mr Woodbury, I appreciate your interest in me but I do not feel the same way and I’d appreciate it if you could stop with the advances.” You explained as politely as you could when, in reality, you were trying to hide your anger.

“Darling, you’re a pretty little thing and I could give you the night of your life.” He leered at you, leaning closer towards you.

A strong hand pushed him back, “she said ‘no’”

There was no need to even face the person enunciating each word; you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

“Miss Prince, we’re having a private conversation.”

Diana stood beside you, her body turned so she faced the both of you.

“I suggest you leave before I have you removed from the building. And if you ever bother y/n again, I promise you, you will regret it. And a promise is unbreakable.”

The male withered under her stare and slithered away from view. You glanced up at Diana, who towered over you, even more so in her heels, and saw the controlled fury in her eyes.

The way the light of the room shone on her face and illuminated her eyes forced yourself in the memory of the night of your attempted assault.

The realisation hit you like a train.

This was the confirmation that you needed.

It was her.

“Y/N?”

You stared into her eyes, unable to tear yourself from her.

“Y/N?” Diana repeated, resting her hand against your cheek. The warmth of her skin against yours brought you back to reality.

“Y-You. I-”

You stumbled over your words, unable to string any words together to form a coherent sentence.

“Come with me.”

Not waiting for a response, Diana took your hand in hers and led you back to her office. She closed the door, locking it behind her and switching on her lamp so the room wasn’t completely dark.

You stood in front of her, still unsure of what to say.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird all day. What’s wrong?” She asked, her concern evident in her tone.

“You’re her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Her. The one who saved me last night.”

You watched as Diana’s eyes flickered with panic. It was only for a brief moment and you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking.

Her mouth opened as if ready to disprove any of your thoughts before closing it again when she saw the look on your face.

“How did you know?” She sighed.

“Your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?” She repeated.

“Your eyes. They were the same. Since the moment I met you, the first thing I noticed were your eyes. The way they sparkled with kindness but I could still see the hurt behind it. They’re beautiful.” Your voice faltered as you finished speaking.

“Um, that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. I-I’ll go.”

As you were about to walk out of her office, she moved to block the door.

“Don’t go.” Her accent came out strong.

“Diana, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, I appreciate you working with me these past couple of months. It’s been a great help. We can just forget this happened and just go back to our lives.” You suggested, walking back to the centre of the room.

“What if I don’t want to?”

Her words came out in a low whisper, the huskiness of her voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-what?” You swallowed dryly.

“I said, what if I don’t want to forget?” She repeated, walking closer to you whilst you unconsciously backed away slowly until stopping when your back hit her desk.

“I’ve loved spending time with you, y/n. You’ve become extremely important to me. And seeing that guy trying to hit on you earlier angered me because you’re not his. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened. Though you’d never seen this side of Diana before, you were extremely turned on; a warmth spreading through you.

Diana continued, smiling at the noticeable effect she had on you.

“I know you feel the same way. I see the way you look at me and the way you blush when I catch you staring. You know me. The other me. You’re beautiful and I like you, y/n. A lot.”

You licked your lips and then lightly bit your bottom lip, once again speechless. Never in a million years did you think she’d like you back.

You decided words weren’t going to be enough and instead, you gathered your courage, the alcohol helping you in that respect, and closed the distance between you.

It was a light kiss, practically a peck, just to test the waters as they say but it still felt right.

You pulled away and leaned back against the desk. There was a look in her eye that you couldn’t quite distinguish but before you had any time to dwell on it, Diana instantly kissed you back, this time with more fervour.

She lifted you onto the desk as if you weighed nothing and with her strength, you probably didn’t. Her hands gripped the sides of your waist, steadying you, as you opened your legs wider so she could move between them.

Your arms wrapped around her neck pulling her deeper into you. She tugged your bottom lip between her teeth, not hard enough to make you wince but definitely enough to make you moan.

You felt her smirk against your lips as her hands moved upwards from bracketing your hips to the side of your breasts. She continued the motion before kissing you one final time and reluctantly pulled away.

Your breath came out in a pant, trying to get as much oxygen back into your lungs as possible.

“That was-”

“Amazing.” Diana finished.

You still sat atop of her desk, not having enough energy to move as of yet, and you were sure your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you up either after that heavy make out session.

Diana rested her hands against your waist once more before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek.

How she went from being so full of passion and heat to being so gentle and sweet, you’d never know. You had a feeling she was going to keep you on your toes.

“As much as I didn’t want to stop, we still have people to see. What do you say we talk to a few more guests and then we can go back to my place and finish what we started?”

Diana asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb as her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I’m never going to figure you out, am I?” You said light-heartedly, as you came to your feet.

Diana held your hand in hers and walked to the door,

“I don’t know. I’d say you know me pretty well already.”

#diana prince #diana prince x reader #wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman 1984 #ww84movie #ww84 #ww84 spoilers #gal gadot #gal gadot x reader #dc #dc comics #dceu #c: diana prince #c: wonder woman #s: mine #c: beautiful

[toastedside]

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

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

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

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

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

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

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#batman #bruce wayne #batman imagine #batmom #batmom imagine #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #batfam #batfam imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #orphan #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #tim drake imagine #cassandra cain imagine #damian wayne imagine #fluff #angst #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader

[sussux-zel]

The OTP/ship meme... but it's Thomas and Rosie.

💚 To be sincere, I had a difficult time shipping them. They somehow reminded me of Sonic/Amy (a STH couple I really don't like), but the development the CGI series gave Rosie and the fanarts made me appreciate her. Besides, she and Thomas look kind of cute together, so here we go.

Obviously, she was the first one who fell in love, but it was extremely uncomfortable for Thomas since they were pre-teens at the time. However, time passes, and she gets more mature and doesn't follow him everywhere, and he starts to appreciate her company. You could say it was a Slow Burn Romance that became official after Rosie realized she still liked him and Thomas understood that he had a crush on her.

💐 I would say it is 50/50. Both of them can be either careless or worry warts.

💋 Both of them are a little shy, but Rosie could be it the most physical affectionate. She likes to poke him in his ticklish sides or hug him from behind. Thomas gets really embarrassed.

⛈ Thomas loves to dance, and even though Rosie is a really clumsy dancer, that doesn't stop him for spinning her if they are in a place with music.

🌹⛈ Thomas has the most nightmares. He's infamous for being one of the young drivers with most accidents suffered, which left him with PTSD. Rosie wasn't aware of that until Percy talked with her about the boy's nightmares. Since then, she makes sure to call him almost every night to be sure he's okay, and, if Edward allows her, goes to their house to make him company.

🌺 They really try to stay up late, but always end up asleep at 8.

⚡ Rosie likes to call him Tommy, while Thomas uses Rose for her.

🍃 None of them frequently gets stressed, but when they do, Thomas will give her a peck in the cheek and Rosie does cute expressions.

🌻 When Thomas is gone, Rosie texts him or hang out with Emily and James. When she's gone, he convinces Percy to prank the older drivers.

🎮 Thomas and Rosie play most of the STH games together. It is a tradition that started before they became a couple.

💍 and ✨ I portray Thomas to be 18 and Rosie to be 17, so marriage is not on their plans. They are children.

👑 Both of them are meme lovers, and always laughs at the most stupid ones together.

📚 Both of them find reading quite boring.

🎩 Rosie is the clingy one, and if she's in the mood to invade her boyfriend's personal space, she will do it. Don't worry: Thomas barely gets angry with her nowadays.

🌼 Rosie complements her boyfriend with her sweet, determined and energetic self, while Thomas balances his girlfriend with his cheekiness and curiosity.

🔥 Thomas has already shoved Hector when he scared Rosie, but little he knew that his girlfriend has already punched whoever talks shit about him. Diesel should have known better.

💀 Thomas and Rosie are definitely the couple who plans their Halloween costumes to match. They opt for the scariest ones, so they can give Gordon new grey hairs.

🌈 Rosie's favourite colours are blue, purple and pink. Thomas's are blue, red and black.

🌹 Rosie hates to admit it, but she's the hopeless romantic.

🎭 Thomas is a little dramatic.

🎈 They don't make jokes during inappropriate times, but Thomas cannot help but laugh when the situation is dumb.

👓 They are more of the "gonna find myself that thing" type rather than google it.

🌙 If a situation is really difficult for Thomas, she will give him verbal and emotional support; but if it is Rosie the one with a problem, she finds the motivation in the big smile her boyfriend gives her.

🍂 Once, Rosie arrived early to the Really Useful Crew's house, and Thomas wasn't ready for their date. Gordon, James, Edward and Henry could not help but show her pictures of the boy when he was younger, and after that she did nothing but remark how cute he was as a child, much to his shame. However, he gets revenge by teasing her with his previous imitation of him, and she responds to him with a pout that she believes it's scary, but it's actually hilarious and sends him in a laughing fit.

💟 They have potential. They could be an example of Childhood/Adolescence Sweetheart and one of the funniest form of love.

🎵 Fireflies by Owl City.

🎵 I'm Yours by Jason Mraz.

🎵 Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John.

#ttte thomas #ttte rosie #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #1x37 #ttte #ttte humanized #ttte shipping

[castleshadows]

A Deeper Form of Hunger

The scene where Casteel goes crazy from blood deprivation from his perspective.

18+ Content: Smut, Non-Consensual

Written March 23, 2021

“Here take him, just spare me!” Shea shoved my weak body towards the Ascended, and in that moment I knew that she wasn’t here to rescue me. It may have started out that way, but first they took Malik because of her, and now I was going to be taken back to that cage, where I would be cut and raped and mocked until the end of my days.

I knew that this woman behind me no longer loved me, maybe never loved me at all. I could feel my heart breaking, which was absolutely ridiculous, because a heart could be squashed, a heart could be torn out, a heart could even be ripped into pieces. But, a heart couldn’t break, not like a bone could. However, looking at Shea behind me, feeling my limbs starting to give out, seeing the Ascended reach for me with bloodthirsty eyes as the woman I loved prepared to run, something in me snapped, and I was pretty damn sure it was my heart.

I heard screams, wild, roaring screams that may have been coming from me. Something feral in me came to life, something that had been present for five decades, but never consumed me in this way. Everything darkened as I leaped for my fiance's throat —

There was movement, jerking me from the dream, and into a brighter, more colorful world. One I did not know. The movement happened again, more sure this time, and I rolled on instinct, pinning the wriggling creature beneath me. I gave a growl of warning. The woman under me yelled something, her eyes wide with surprise. Some deep part of me recognized the word. Some part of me tried to struggle to the front at that sound. I knew this woman. I didn’t care.

My hand moved to her neck, pressing down and causing her to let out a woosh of air. She swung her arm at me, trying to break my hold, but I easily pinned it down by the wrist, holding her down even as she strained against my grip.

I could smell her. I could feel the blood pumping through her veins. I wanted that blood. I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck. I wanted to drink her blood until it filled my veins. I was hungry. No, I was starving. And here was my meal.

The woman said something again, the same word. Less hostile this time, and again that deep part of me tried to push to the front. I shoved it down once again, snarling.

She stilled, and I felt her heartbeat slow beneath my fingers. I still wanted her. I could still smell the blood in her veins, waiting there for me to take, but the feeling was less consuming.

There were more words that I didn’t care to listen to.

I trailed my gaze down her body, and a different scent hit my nose, something I hadn’t noticed before. It was strong, and sweet, and utterly enchanting. It smelled like… honeydew. I inhaled it, letting the scent fill my mind and body until I felt something twitch to life in my pants.

I shifted my hand, removing it from the woman’s neck, and towards the source of that intoxicating smell.

She moved as well, reaching her hand behind her to grab something. I paid no attention, too distracted by the way her robe was parted revealing her beautiful leg, and the crease that pointed right to where I wanted my mouth.

The honeydew smell was growing stronger by the second, and I lowered my head, my chin brushing her stomach. I needed this, I needed her. I needed to taste her until she screamed. I needed to devour her until there was nothing else but honeydew, and this curvy, beautiful, woman, with red hair like fire, and a scent that consumed me.

I lowered my head further, prepared to do just that.

Something cold and sharp pressed against my neck. I ignored it. It pressed in harder.

I couldn’t stop now. I wouldn’t. I needed this. She needed this. The scent was too strong, and something primal in me kept me moving. I moved the robe out of the way to look between the woman’s legs. I growled in appreciation, the scent growing stronger the close I got. My breath ghosted over her thighs, and she seemed to clench, her breathing growing heavier.

She started to say something again. That word I knew was in there, but it was easier to ignore with my face so close to her.

“Or we will find out what happens to an Atlantian when their throat gets cut.”

The sharp thing pressed in closer, and it took everything in me to drag my gaze away from between her thighs.

I stared at her, her eyes wide and a beautiful shade of green that was almost as captivating as her scent.

She said something else, that I wasn’t able to pay attention to. The moment of clear-headedness was gone.

My all-consuming hunger had taken hold of me again. It was a different kind of hunger this time however. Less for her blood, and more for her.

This woman was everything I wanted. Even in my fuzzy state of mind, I knew she wanted this as much as I did. I could still smell her, and each moment that my mouth wasn’t between her legs, devouring her flesh, each moment I couldn’t bury my face in her neck, biting and sucking until her blood flowed into my mouth was torment. Pure torment.

The hunger wasn’t just in my stomach, it was flowing through my body. I felt it in every nerve and bone, every piece of me, wanted her. In more ways than one.

The woman was still looking at me, her gaze wide and searching, as if looking for something that didn’t exist.

I didn’t feel anything except the pain and hunger. I didn’t know anything other than this woman and her scent. I needed her. Badly.

She tugged on her arm, the one that I still had pinned beneath my hand, and I let go, my thoughts more on what was emitting from between her thighs than whether or not she was pinned down.

My head moved almost of its own accord. My chin grazed the crease of her thigh, the scars that I didn’t bother to pay attention to.

There was that blood scent again, though it didn’t overpower the honeydew I was so focused on. I knew a major artery waited just beside my jaw. Just a small tip of the head, and I could have satisfied my hunger right there and then. But, I didn’t. I didn’t sink my fangs into her leg, no matter how much I wanted to. There was something else that demanded my attention right now. Something else that so utterly… utterly intrigued me.

The honeydew scent was going stronger, refilling my senses, after the momentary distraction. The sharpness at my neck trembled, and I growled again, a primal sound that I hadn’t even realized had come from me until seconds later.

I dipped my head, instinct taking over.

The sharpness left my neck, freeing me to lift the woman’s hips, and spread her thighs.

Moments later my mouth was on her, and I forgot all about my hunger.

My tongue sliced between her legs, and I found that this woman tasted just as good as she smelled. Even better. I slid my lips across her folds, devouring her, savoring the sweet taste of her on my tongue.

Each stroke, stoked the fire inside of me even more, and I found myself pressing in harder, spreading her legs further apart to allow for better access. The taste of honeydew invaded my senses, and I knew nothing except for this woman. This woman that I could feast on for the rest of eternity, and never grow tired of her taste and smell and the moans I could hear coming from her mouth.

She tried to move, to thrust her hips against my tongue, but I held her in place, pressing down on her legs to keep her from interrupting my ministrations. Her legs shook, and I felt her hands beside my head, gripping the sheets like a life-line. Some part of me felt almost smug. I could make her feel like this. I could give her pleasure, and make her scream, and only me. This perfect woman.

Her wetness coated my lips and mouth, and I knew that her flavor would be stuck on my tongue for many hours. I didn’t know how I had ever survived without this, how I had gone even a few moments since waking up without devouring this beautiful creature.

I could feel her hips stuttering, and I knew she felt pleasure from this. I knew that she was moments from coming apart, and sure enough, several seconds later, a loud scream when up, filling the room. I continued to lap at her, lightly grazing my teeth across the little bundle of nerves to prolong her pleasure. I never wanted this to stop. I never wanted this feast to end, but I lifted my head, catching sight of this glorious creature. Her hair, even messier, her face pink, her mouth open and chest heaving.

She blinked open her eyes, locking them with mine.

My hunger was sated. At least one part of it.

I parted my lips, moving forward, reading to sink my teeth into her pretty little neck—

There was someone else in the room.

A door had been opened to my right and a gust of wind was flowing through the room, cooling my heated skin. Footsteps, and then an abrupt stop.

I was going to kill them.

They spoke, and I shook with anger.

Swinging my head around I snarled, the noise promising death. Whoever had barged in, had just offered themselves up as dinner.

It was a man. Tawny-skinned with dark hair, that was long and coiled on the top, and trimmed close on the sides. His ice-blue eyes tugged at my memory, but I was too far-gone in my rage at being interrupted to pay much attention to it. The walls were about to run red with blood, whether I knew this man or not.

The woman was still lying beneath me, and I knew that this man would try to take her from me. That would not happen.

“Shit,” the man said, stepping forward, “Cas, my brother, I warned you this would happen.”

That world sounded familiar. Cas. The first part of what the woman said to me.

The woman repeated it

I ignored her, snarling at the man, and baring my fangs. Dead. That was what he was.

There was an exchange between the two. The man and the woman, talking as if they knew each other. I didn’t like it. She was mine.

But, something he said made me pause for a split second.

“...Poppy…”

I recognized that.

“Casteel.”

That… I recognized that too. I didn’t want to recognize either of them.

The woman reached out and placed a hand on my arm. I didn’t think much of it, not until the feelings started.

One moment there was only the hunger and rage, the next an onslaught of love. With each wave, the monster receded just a little bit. Every second I became more me.

Casteel. My name.

Poppy. The woman I was hopelessly in love with.

The man across from me was Kieran. Worried for me. Worried for his best friend.

The monster still held on a little. Still had it’s claws dug into my shoulders.

The woman, what was her name?

“It’s okay Hawke.”

Hawke.

My mother called me that.

The woman used to call me that.

I missed it.

I wished she would call me that more.

My entire body jerked, and it was like I had been set free.

Poppy removed her hand from my arm, sitting back. I looked down to see that the robe was still parted, and I saw the place where her legs met, still completely exposed.

I looked up, embarrassed, scared at what I would see in her face. Scared of what she now thought of me. How could I do that? How could I have let it get like that? This was all my fault. She would never trust me again, and for good reasons.

Poppy’s eyes were wide, her gaze filled with surprise and… and fear. I looked down, unable to stand it any longer.

She was still exposed, in front of both me and Kieran. She was probably uncomfortable. Ok, after what had just happened, she was definitely uncomfortable.

I tugged the two halves of her robe together, covering her upper legs and between them. The taste of honeydew was still on my tongue, still covered my lips.

“Honeydew,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “I’m sorry.”

I was sorry. Gods I was so sorry.

I walked past Kieran, not strong enough to look at the expression on his face, and did the only thing I knew how to. I ran. As soon as I exited the terrace doors, I broke into a run, past servants, past those I had traveled to Solis with, sparing none of them a passing glance.

I turned a corner, my mind set on finding the nearest bucket of water to clean myself up. Poppy would probably be embarrassed if she knew I was running around with her release all over my mouth. Thankfully, one of the servants was walking up a flight of stairs to my left, carefully carrying a bucket of water and a sponge.

I nodded politely towards her, asking if I could use the water. She bowed leaving me with the bucket and sponge to clean myself up.

I stepped into the nearest empty room, striding towards the bathing chamber with the water. Making quick work of my face, I shaved as well, using the complementary razor left in a shelf by the sink.

I avoided looking in the mirror, knowing that what I would see, was not something I currently wanted to be seeing.

It didn’t take long for me to find my clothes and boots from last night, which had been washed and set out to dry the evening before. The boots had apparently been washed on the inside as well and still slightly damp. I cringed as I pulled them on, ignoring the way they squelched.

I knew breakfast was just starting, and I should probably go eat some real food, but I couldn’t make myself face either Poppy or Kieran, who would probably be there by now.

There was another kind of hunger, one that consumed me like it had this morning. I hadn’t taken any blood in a long time. Not since we were in Masadonia, and Naill had offered me his wrist. I was starving for it, and I knew that if I went to any Atlantian here, they would be more than happy to give me their blood, but the thought disgusted me.

I couldn’t possibly take blood from someone else, when my mind was so utterly focused on Poppy. It was too intimate a gesture to even consider doing it with someone else. But I knew damn well I couldn’t take Poppy’s blood either. I was too close to the edge, and I could hurt her. No, I wouldn’t ask her to do that. I wouldn’t add her blood to the ever growing list of things I’d taken from her.

Instead I headed towards where I knew Alistir waited. I would talk with him, find out how many would be traveling with us to Saion’s Cove, and in how many days we would leave. I would distract my mind from Poppy, and ignore my hunger. Because that was the only thing I could do, if I was going to keep from breaking apart.

My dream from earlier came back to me. I had never told Poppy about Shea, though she knew that I had been in love before. I didn’t want to talk about her, ever. I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind, and stood up, preparing myself for yet another day.

#poppy x casteel #poppy balfour #casteel da'neer #kieran contou #smut #non consent #from blood and ash #a kingdom of flesh and fire #the crown of gilded bones #fbaa #akofaf #tcogb

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

#uchiha shisui #uchiha izumi #future shisuita #new story #my art #really having fun writing this one #I'm such a sucker for adventure movies #and snarky team banter #and this combines both #aaaaand we've just been thrown into another covid lockdown #so more writing time here I come! #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura

[morganaspendragonss]

if your looking for a bth prompt what about used in sacrificial ritual where tk gets abducted on a run and carlos is the lead detective on this case of people getting murdered as sacrifices and they arrive in time to save tk but the ritual involved cutting limbs off and tk ends up losing a leg? perhaps w lots of fluff at the end? <3<3

anon, i cannot tell you how excited this prompt got me. i’d been toying with a very similar idea for weeks and this was the push i needed to actually write it - with certain modifications to fit your idea. (i promise it has a happy ending!)

i’m super proud of how this came out, and i hope you like it as much as i do!

@911lonestarangstweek day 7:  Free choice!

Two months ago, TK vanished, snatched while out on his evening run. Carlos will do anything to get him back, even if that includes running himself into the ground.

ao3 | 4.9k | cw: kidnapping, depictions of violence, death and injury, forced amputation, career-ending injuries

It’s been two months.

Two whole months since TK left for his evening run with nothing but a shouted goodbye and a promise to be home soon.

Two months since Carlos hadn’t even turned around, because apparently the dishes were more important than his husband.

Two months since they found TK’s shattered phone and wallet, abandoned in the park next to a pool of blood.

Two months since Carlos’s world came crashing down around him.

He blames himself - how could he not? He’s been the lead detective on this case for months; he’s the one who’s so far failed to catch the guys who have mutilated and killed so many people, and now might do the same to his husband. More to the point, he’s the one who is supposed to protect TK, and it’s clear he’s resoundly failed in that department.

His captain had tried to take him off the case, once they’d found out that TK had become the latest victim. But Carlos had informed him in no uncertain terms that he was going to keep looking for his husband, even if he had to go above his head to do it. 

They’d allowed him to keep the case, but Carlos knows he’s being watched. They think he’s having a breakdown and, the thing is, Carlos isn’t entirely sure they’re wrong.

He hasn’t slept in their bed since the night it happened, when he got woken up at two am to the sound of his ringtone blaring through the room.

“Reyes,” Mitchell had said, tone heavy. “I… Shit, Reyes. You gotta get here. There’s another one and I… I really didn’t want to be telling you this over the phone, but…”

She’d paused, and Carlos had sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly all too aware of the empty space next to him. And, in that moment, he’d known; even so, he’d still choked out a quiet, “No.”

“I’m sorry, Carlos. I truly am.”

*

He’s been living in a daze ever since, work and TK the only two things on his mind. He eats when he has to, barely sleeps, and never hangs out with their friends anymore, which he almost feels guilty for. They’re suffering too, Carlos knows this, but he can’t afford any distractions right now. If he were to be out somewhere and ends up missing the one chance he has to get TK back, he’d never forgive himself.

He’s just about to leave for another shift when there’s a loud, insistent knock at the door. Carlos rolls his eyes and goes to yank it open, about to tell whoever it is to leave him alone.

Only to come face-to-face with a very determined looking Grace Ryder.

“Grace,” he sighs, irritation dissipating. “Can this wait? I’ve got a -”

“I know you don’t have an official shift today, Carlos,” she interrupts, folding her arms. “Just like I know you’re working yourself to death, and I’m not going to stand for it anymore. You’re coming out with me, no arguments.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Grace… I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, you can.” She clicks her tongue, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. "You should be thanking me; Judd was planning on bringing the entire crew down here to stage a full intervention. Now, I managed to talk him out of that one, convinced him the last thing you need right now is a house full of people, but I will not hesitate to go back on that. So you've got two options. Either you go back upstairs and get changed and I'll take you out for coffee, just the two of us, or I'm gonna unleash my husband and the full force of the 126 on you. Choice is yours, Reyes."

He sighs, wearily meeting her eyes. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"No, sir, you are not."

Carlos closes his eyes and hangs his head, knowing just how stubborn Grace Ryder can be. “Alright,” he says, though his every nerve is screaming at him for it, “you win. Give me a minute.”

She smiles encouragingly at him. “I’ll be here.”

*

The coffee-shop Grace takes him to is mercifully empty, both of people and memories. He wonders if she did this on purpose, but figures it’s more a stroke of pure luck, his first in months. It’s a nice place; he’ll have to remember it for when - if - they get TK back.

Grace quickly returns with their drinks, placing a sandwich in front of Carlos, too. “Don’t even argue,” she warns. “I won’t hear it.”

Carlos forces a smile. “Thanks, Grace.”

They sit in silence for a while, Carlos keeping his gaze turned to the table, picking listlessly at the sandwich. He can feel Grace’s eyes on him, feel the tension in the air between them, and part of him wishes she’d just come out with it already.

The other part wants to run for the hills, but he’s pretty sure Grace would catch him before he got too far.

Eventually, she sighs, setting her mug down and leaning across the table. “Carlos, we miss you,” she says softly. “I know it’s tough, but you’ve barely spoken to any of us since it happened. We’re worried.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“No.” She shakes her head, voice still unbearably gentle. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy. There’s a difference. And that’s okay, up to a point, but you haven’t given yourself a break in two months and that is not okay. You know TK wouldn’t want you to be doing this.”

“You say that like he’s dead.”

Grace sucks in a sharp breath. “Sweetheart, you know that is not what I meant -”

“Maybe you’re right,” he cuts in, ignoring the pain in his chest as he finally looks up at Grace. “It’s been two months; you know as well as I do what survival rates are for missing persons, even in normal circumstances.” His breathing trembles and he squeezes his eyes shut, images of the bodies they’ve found so far flashing through his mind. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks next. “You also know that the third month is usually when the bodies appear. We’re running out of time, Grace, and I don’t - I don’t know if I believe any more.”

“Carlos Strand-Reyes, I did not just hear you give up on that boy.”

He smiles humourlessly. “Not on him, Grace. On me.”

A long silence follows his words, though Carlos can feel the disappointment and worry rolling off Grace in waves. He should probably feel guilty for ruining a perfectly fine day, but he’s just so tired. He’ll do anything to have TK by his side again, but each day that passes is another day that TK slips further and further away from him, and it’s difficult to hold on to hope.

“I’m terrified,” Carlos admits quietly, tears pricking the back of his eyes. “Any day now they’re going to tell me they’ve found another body, and it’s going to be him, and I won’t be able to handle seeing him like that. You don’t know what they do to them, Grace, it’s - it’s -”

His breath hitches, and suddenly Grace is next to him, gathering him in her arms as he breaks down in sobs against her chest. She shushes him, running a gentle hand through his hair and, for a brief moment, she makes it easy to push away memories of sightless eyes and missing limbs and slit throats.

Grace holds him close, murmuring assurances Carlos doesn’t really hear, until he’s cried himself dry. Then, she pulls back, swiping her thumbs under his eyes, unshed tears shining in her own.

“You’ll get through this, Carlos,” she says, wobbly smile on her face. “No matter the outcome, we’ll all be here to help you get through this.”

Carlos nods, but, privately, he thinks she’s wrong. If TK dies, he’s not sure he’ll be able to find a way through that, no matter how many people are by his side. Because the only one he really, truly needs, won’t be there. 

*

Carlos rubs his eyes, his vision blurring as he stares at crime scene photos, as he has been doing for the past however many hours. He must have gone through these thousands of times over the past eight months, and yet he’s still drawing a complete blank as to clues that could help them find the killers.

They’re always too careful, never leaving any DNA on scene, never caught on camera, never seen by witnesses. There’s not even much of a common denominator between the victims, aside from the fact that they’re all young - the oldest being 38 - and they were all alone when they were taken.

The only consistency in this entire thing is the bodies. Official cause of death is always a deep cut to the throat, accompanied by at least one limb being cut off when the victim was still alive, sometimes more. They never find the missing body parts, which bothers Carlos more than it probably should.

He rubs his eyes again, blinking hard to try and stay awake. He didn’t sleep well last night, which is nothing new, but the past two weeks have been exhausting. After Grace’s coffee outing, the 126 have been stopping by regularly, one or two at a time, to check up on him and make sure he’s doing okay. Carlos appreciates it, he does, but he doesn’t have the energy for it these days. 

He’s so tired that he doesn’t notice Mitchell walking up to his desk before she’s standing right next to him, casting a shadow over his papers. Carlos looks up, and dread washes over him at the grim expression on her face, the tense set to her shoulders.

“We’ve got another one.”

Carlos makes a noise halfway between a choke and a sob. “A body?” he whispers, looking up at her fearfully.

“A disappearance,” Mitchell corrects, and Carlos doesn’t even feel guilty for the relief that floods him at that. “Industrial estate across town, one of the workers got nabbed when he went for a smoke. Same MO, no witnesses - it’s them.”

He nods, praying that Mitchell doesn’t notice the way his hands shake as he gathers up his papers. If she does, she doesn’t say anything, though he catches her exasperated head shake when he turns back to face her.

“Let’s go.”

*

The crime scene is, as always, pristine, and Carlos can’t help but be frustrated, even if this is what he’s come to expect. The case had been wearing on him even before TK was taken, but now it feels like every dead end is a spit in his face, like the universe is taunting him directly.

He’s about to wrap up the scene when a young officer comes barreling towards him.

“Detective!” he yells, panting. “Detective Reyes!”

Carlos stops, raising an eyebrow as the officer skids to a halt in front of him, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he gasps. Straightening, he clears his throat, pointing across the street. “There’s a hidden speed camera over there.”

Carlos blinks. Of all the ground-breaking news he imagined might warrant such dramatics, speed cameras weren’t one of them. 

The officer heaves a long-suffering sigh, which, under any other circumstances, might be amusing. “We’re not sure yet, but, looking at the angle, we think it covers the place the guy got taken from,” he explains, and Carlos’s eyes widen. “If it does, we might be able to get some ID, maybe even a license plate. I know they’ve always been careful not to get caught on camera before, but they might not have known about this one. It’s a chance, Detective.”

Carlos breathes out shakily, mind reeling from the officer’s words. It’s a chance. An honest-to-god chance. “Have we pulled footage yet?”

“Doing that now.” The officer grins boyishly, and Carlos feels a small smile tugging at his own lips. He can’t let himself get too invested in this; there’s every chance that it’ll turn into yet another false lead. And yet.

Something like hope lights up Carlos’s chest, and he dares, just for a second, to believe in it.

*

It works.

It fucking works.

They don’t have an ID - the killers are at least smart enough to cover their faces - but they do have a plate, which they’ve managed to track to a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Carlos taps the steering wheel of his cruiser anxiously; they’re parked in some trees just out of sight of the building, and he itches with the desire to jump out and go.

Every second they wait here is one more second in which TK is still with them, suffering, dying. He chews on his lip, then turns to Mitchell.

“We clear on the plan?”

She raises an eyebrow. “I am. Are you?”

“What -”

“I know what this means for you, Reyes,” she interrupts, not unkindly. “I know what might be waiting for you in there. Now, if it were up to me, you would be benched. It’s too personal, and you’re way too close to it. But, since it’s not, you’ve gotta promise me that your head is screwed on tight, you hear me? We’ve got a good plan, and it’ll work, but it’s only good so long as we are all following it. So, you tell me. Are we clear on the plan?”

Carlos swallows thickly, glancing back in the direction of the warehouse. Mitchell is right - he is too close to it, and he’d be thinking the same thing if the situation were in reverse. He just… He can’t fathom being anywhere but here right now.

He can do this; he knows he can.

He has to, for TK. 

“Yes,” he says firmly, meeting her eyes. “We’ve got this.”

She nods. “Alright, then.” Her gaze shifts past him and she jerks her chin up. “There’s the signal. Let’s move out.”

*

It’s almost too easy, in the end. The suspects are woefully unprepared for an ambush, and Carlos doesn’t even need to fire his gun, which is always a good thing. They find the guy who was taken today in the same room as his kidnappers, a little worse for wear, but not too injured, all things considered.

Carlos wants to be happy about that, but he can’t. Not when TK is still nowhere in sight.

Mitchell takes over managing the scene and questioning the hostage. He’ll have to remember to buy something for her in thanks when this is all over; she’s been a rock over the past three months, often covering for Carlos with their supervisors when things became too much.

He glances around at the swarms of police and paramedics filling the warehouse, feeling oddly detached from it all. He’s itching to go looking for TK, but there’s only so far he can push things - though he’s being no help here, he has to maintain an appearance if he wants to not get fired.

That appearance being, the calm and collected detective, which is the furthest thing from what Carlos is right now.

His hands tap restlessly at his thighs, his senses dialled to eleven with anxiety, which only spikes when he sees an officer making her way towards him, a grim look on her face.

Please, god, no.

Carlos moves to meet her, but he’s not able to form the words for the question he needs to ask. Fortunately, she takes pity on him.

“We’ve found your husband, Detective,” she informs him.

Carlos swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to tamp down the fear. “Is he...?”

“Alive,” she says, and Carlos could cry with relief. “But he’s in bad shape. I’ve been told not to let you back there.”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I appreciate the concern, but my husband has been missing for nearly three months,” he says tightly. “It would not be a wise idea to keep me from him any longer.”

She hesitates, biting her lip uncertainly, but eventually relents under Carlos’s hard stare. “Alright. Follow me.”

Carlos is led down several corridors until they stop outside a door, guarded by two other officers. The woman who brought him has a whispered argument with them, but Carlos pushes past her to glare at them, his patience at an end now that he knows that TK is mere feet away from him.

“I told her to bring me here,” he says. “That man in there is my husband; I’m going in there one way or another.”

The two officers exchange a glance, then wearily sigh and nod, stepping to the side. Carlos doesn’t bother to thank them before rushing inside, coming up short at the sight of three paramedics crouched around a body on the ground. He can’t really see much of TK yet, but he feels frozen in place, his mind suddenly rebelling at the thought of having to witness what three months of captivity have done to him.

He shakes his head and wills his feet forward, feeling like he’s walking through treacle as he rounds to TK’s side. Bile rises in his throat and he can’t stop the gasp that escapes him when he finally catches sight of his husband - it’s worse than anything Carlos had imagined, and he’d imagined a lot.

TK’s completely naked; the paramedics have lain a sheet over his lower half, but it does little to hide his emaciated state, his entire body outlined with sharp corners where his skin seems almost shrink-wrapped to his bones. Carlos can count every one of TK’s ribs, and the hollow of his cheeks is deeply pronounced. His torso is discoloured from bruising and he’s horribly still and pale - Carlos would think he were dead if not for the barely there rise and fall of his chest.

That’s not the worst of it, though. Carlos’s eyes travel down TK’s body, cataloguing his injuries, before sticking on his left leg.

Or, rather, the space where his left leg used to be.

Carlos barely refrains from throwing up, his stomach turning at the bloody mess in front of him. This isn’t… In the back of his mind - in his nightmares - he’d known that this was a possibility, but he’d never prepared himself for actually seeing it. He doesn’t know if he could have prepared himself, even if he’d tried.

“Detective.”

He’s broken from his horrified staring by one of the paramedics, now standing in front of him. Strange - Carlos hadn’t noticed him moving.

He sighs, obviously disapproving of Carlos’s presence here, but his expression holds nothing but sympathy. “Your husband is lucky we got here when we did,” he says. “But I can’t make any promises, and he is nowhere near out of the woods yet. To be perfectly honest with you, Detective, it’s a miracle he’s still breathing right now. He’s severely dehydrated and suffering from starvation - it looks like his kidnappers were giving him just barely enough food and water for him to survive. I’m also worried about infection in his leg, plus there might be injuries we can’t see yet. We’ve done everything we can for him here, but we have to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. I’m assuming you’re going to ride with us?”

Carlos immediately nods. There’s no way he’s going to remain here, even if he knows he won’t be able to stay with TK when they get to the hospital. He trusts Mitchell to handle things, and he wouldn’t be of much use anyway, even more so than before. Not after everything he’s seen, everything he’s heard.

The paramedics get TK loaded on a gurney and Carlos follows them out, eyes locked on TK’s still form. He brushes a hand through TK’s limp hair, forcing back the tears burning in his eyes.

“Hold on, my love,” he whispers. “I’m here; you’re safe now.”

He hopes, somehow, that TK hears him.

*

“Oh my god.”

Carlos looks up from the bed at the sound of Owen’s voice. His father-in-law has a hand over his mouth, shock written all over his face at the sight of TK - what little that can be seen underneath all the bandages and machines he has hooked up to him. Carlos had done his best to prepare Owen for what he’d face when he arrived, but it had been an impossible task. He’d barely been able to get the words out, for one, but there was no explaining just how bad things are.

Nothing will ever be the same. Not that Carlos had ever expected that it would, but when (if, he reminds himself) TK wakes up, it will be to a completely different life than the one he had walked out of all those months ago. 

The physical injuries alone would be bad enough - and, god, he’ll have to do so much at home to make it safe for TK - but he’s more worried about how this will have affected him in other ways. Carlos can’t imagine the level of trauma his husband has suffered, and he just prays that they can find a way to get through it.

Owen’s face crumples as he makes his way across the room, collapsing heavily in the chair on the other side of the bed. He reaches out as though to touch TK, but snatches his hands back just as quickly, expression stricken. “Oh my god,” he repeats.

Carlos lets him be for a few moments, allowing Owen to process what he’s seeing at his own pace. He turns away so that he can have some semblance of privacy, though he can’t ignore the soft sobs he hears. It’s almost as though they’re mourning TK, even though they now have proof he’s alive, which is more than can be said for the last three months.

Eventually, Owen sniffs, and turns to address Carlos. “Have they… What did the doctors say?”

“Nothing concrete,” Carlos answers, focusing his gaze back on TK. “If he makes it through the next few days, then they think he’ll have a chance, but that’s a big if, Owen. There was so much damage. His organs weren’t functioning properly, he has a head wound from when he was first taken that never really healed right, and his leg… It had become infected where his kidnappers cut it; they had to take some more in surgery to stop it from spreading any further.”

He tears his eyes from TK to meet Owen’s gaze, almost wishing he hadn’t when he sees his own pain and grief reflected back at him. “It’s bad, Owen,” he chokes out. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do if…”

He shakes his head, the words sticking in his throat. Not that he really needs to say them; they’re both thinking the same thing.

“The doctors probably told you, but they’re restricting visitors to two until he’s more stable,” Carlos continues, eyes dropping back to the bed. “I know the team will want to see him, but do you think you can hold them off for a while? Just for a couple of days, until we know more. I don’t want to keep them from him, but I just…” He trails off, guilt welling up in him even though he knows this is what’s best. “I know it’s a selfish thing to ask, but I think it’s for the best, for everyone.”

“I understand,” Owen says gently. “I’ll let them know. And… I’ll do my best to prepare them, for when they do come and visit.”

Carlos nods his thanks and the two lapse into silence, broken only by the hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor. Proof that TK’s still with them, but each noise sends another bolt of pain through Carlos’s heart.

He squeezes his eyes shut, finally allowing the tears to fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Owen,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Owen gasps. “What for?”

“I was supposed to protect him! This was my case, I’m the reason he got taken, the reason he might not make it. He could still die, and it’s all my fault!”

Carlos drops his head into his hands, chest heaving from the force of his sobbing. Distantly, he hears the scrape of a chair on linoleum, then Owen’s hands are on his shoulders, turning him into an embrace. Carlos falls into him, not caring about the almost childlike way he clings to his father-in-law.

“You found him, Carlos,” Owen whispers, rubbing circles on Carlos’s back. “You found him. Any chance he has at making it through is because of you. That’s what matters now; it’s the only thing that matters.”

*

It’s several more weeks before Carlos’s prayers are finally answered.

TK was declared stable some time ago, the doctors saying that, barring any unexpected complications, they should expect him to wake up. They hadn’t said anything about what the damage might be once he did wake, but Carlos hadn’t wanted to ask; at this point, he can’t focus on more than one thing at a time, else he knows he’ll fall apart.

He’s practically lived at the hospital since they brought TK in. He’s pretty sure Owen, his parents, and the 126 came up with a rota for making sure he wasn’t starving himself, because it was always someone different who attempted to pull him away from TK’s room for food or sleep in an actual bed. Carlos resisted as much as he thought he could get away with, but he’s not stupid. He knows he needs to keep his strength up if he’s going to be of any use once TK wakes up.

It happens early one morning, when the sun is just beginning to filter through the blinds. Carlos is already awake, keeping a vigilant watch over his husband, though he doesn’t quite believe it when TK’s eyelid twitches.

He holds his breath, waiting, and, just when he’s given it up as a trick of exhaustion, it happens again, both of his eyes cracking open this time.

“TK?” he breathes, half-rising from his chair. He reaches out and grabs TK’s hand, which moves - actually moves - in his, and tears spring to his eyes.

It takes a few more minutes before something like awareness creeps into TK’s face, his eyes fully opening for the first time in weeks. Carlos just sobs at the sight, drawing TK’s attention to him, at which point his expression turns to shock and disbelief.

TK’s mouth moves, but he can’t force out any words, causing panic to flash over his face and his breathing picks up. Carlos leans forward, squeezing his hand and stroking his cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says softly, reassuring him. “You’re okay, I promise, everything’s going to be okay. You’re in the hospital. I’m here, and you’re safe. God, TK, I swear I’m never going to let anything happen to you ever again, I swear it.”

TK shakes his head, still not understanding, so Carlos reaches to press the call button. He forces a smile for TK’s sake, though his mind is crowded with worries about what their next steps will be. It’s going to be a long time before they can even think about going home, he knows this, but everything is so uncertain now.

Carlos wants to believe that there can be some sort of normality in their future, but, right now, it seems like a distant dream.

*

Time passes.

He brings TK home.

It’s hard, so much harder than he thought, but they have a whole team of people willing to help out as much as they can. Paul and Grace often bring food, usually stopping to talk for a while afterwards. The others - most often Marjan and Judd - sometimes come by and take TK out in his wheelchair for a while, giving Carlos time and space to relax or tidy. Letting TK out of his sight was difficult at first, and he still gets anxious watching him disappear out the door, but he knows that the 126 would do anything to keep him safe.

He just has to trust them, which he does, implicitly so. 

Owen’s also a frequent visitor to their house, staying overnight a time or two in the beginning. Carlos is grateful for it; he doesn’t know how he would have coped if not for Owen’s steady presence while they were still figuring out their new reality.

TK struggles a lot, even with simple things these days. The head wound caused brain damage, leading to migraines and he has problems with speech and carrying out tasks. It breaks Carlos’s heart to see him, but he forces himself to keep up a front, only letting the emotion out when he’s alone - or, rarely, with one of the 126.

He suspects TK knows anyway, but they don’t talk about it.

It’s a long few months of recovery, of pain and exhaustion and frustration. But it’s all worth it, because it means that TK is alive. It means that Carlos has him back, and they can work on getting better together.

It means that, one golden morning, Carlos wakes up to see TK’s beautiful green eyes already open, watching him intently. He reaches out to caress TK’s cheek, then leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, lingering for a long moment.

And, when he pulls back, TK smiles.

And it feels like everything is going to be okay.

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