#and doesn't know how to handle it. falling for them was kind of inevitable. Again though. Only a suggestion

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chartered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig.

my darling medic doodles

[i]

Pharma doesn’t know what to say.

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

[years before]

You scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

"Will do, doc bot."

[ii]

Pharma doesn’t want to open the door.

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

[iii]

The tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

[iv]

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

#maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers #ikkosuwrites #pharma #pharma x reader #idw pharma #angst #Tarn x reader #mtmte tarn #mtmte #idw #canon divergent #transformers idw #mtmte pharma x reader #mtmte pharma #mtmte tarn x reader

[batsandbugs]

Daminette Headcanon #??

Meet cute/meet disaster opportunity in Gotham. So Marinette is new to the city, and her stash of fabric and notions is completely depleted because she had to downsize when moving across the Atlantic (she had way too much stuff to ship with her.) So she's trying to find Gotham's fabric district which does exist... but it's frequented mainly by villains or henchpeople who need fabric for their costumes. Otherwise, everyone just buys online. Marnette though needs to see her stuff in person, needs to feel the fabric and test stretch and shit. So she's struggling down the street burdened by like five bags and a whole bolt of fabric and Damian (overachiever that he is) is doing an early evening patrol as Robin, and sees this little slip-of-nothing girl walking out of a fabric store that is definitely only frequented by villains and is a front for a local gang, and thinks 'oh, this is a new villain and/or she's being blackmailed to create new outfits' and so he prepares to swing down and interrogate her. Now Marinette, total badass that she is, can handle herself (yes, all her friends and family told her she shouldn't move to Gotham, but she's a hero too and Gotham ain't got shit on Hawkmoth) and she knows this isn't the best part of town, but it's the only place that has fabric stores, and the prices are really good so of course, she's gonna stock up. She knows she looks like an easy target but she is not. But bad guys don't know that, so a pair of idiots come up to her on the street and start harassing her and trying to rob her. One goes to hit her, and she totally backhands them and then knocks them both out flat in under 30 seconds. Not a hair out of place and all of her purchases are still safe and sound. And Robin is shocked up above (and kinda turned on) and is now definitely thinking that this girl is the newest up-and-coming supervillain, and he hears her mutter, "these fools have nothing on Paris." And so he swings down, intrigued, and wanting to know who this new danger is. He doesn't want to be too sus at first though and asks if she's fine (Richard would be proud of how far he's come at interpersonal skills) Of course, Marinette knows who the local heroes are (she doesn't want to step on anyone's toes after all) and so is very friendly at first, and basically says, "I'm okay and don't need any help, after all, you don't survive long in Paris if you can't handle yourself, but it's nice to know Gotham's heroes are looking out." And Robin doesn't know if that's meant to be a threat or sincere. And so he offers to walk her home because that's what a hero would do with a normal civilian right?? Not one that he was trying to gauge what their notorious schemes are, right?? But Marinette easily agrees, and in her mind, is just happy to get a read on the local heroes, and just chats with Robin the whole way home about Gotham and what amazing styles she can get from its local design and architecture. And Damian is so?? confused??? Is this girl an artist? IS she a villain artist?? What kind of schemes are going to happen here. And so he obviously has to know more about this amazi- he means potentially dangerous woman, and so when he sees her safely home asks to maybe, visit? Again? And Marinette is all like 😁😁 Sure, happy to help Gotham's heroes however she can. Damian is like 'perfect, I have managed to open a line of inquiry into a potential threat, now I just need to visit often- I mean monitor her carefully to figure out her plans' and Marinette is just like, 'The Gotham heroes are much more welcoming than I thought they would be. I got fabric, beat up some baddies, and made a new friend all in one evening!'

Their falling in love is kinda inevitable.

#damianette #daminette headcannons #daminette #maribat #marinette is a artist #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #damian x marinette #mlb crossover #maridami #damimari #ml x dc #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 2 - Die For Him

Summary

Past: You deal with a particularly painful period and near-death encounter.

Present: Tommy helps you with your healing process when Joel comes over.

CW // Anxiety, pain, mentions of past violence.

Word count: 12,409

Before

Late Autumn 2019  

The first day traveling with Tommy, you threatened to kill him eight times. His warm and friendly nature was off-putting and uncomfortable, and you had to fight the urge to lash out at him whenever he tried to help you or show some form of kindness.

By the second week, you only threatened to kill him once a day. You've managed to somewhat soften towards Tommy's gentle and caring demeanour, and every day, you feel yourself becoming a little less cold and standoffish around him.

The last two weeks have been a blur of traveling in an attempt to reach the small town called Jackson that Tommy mentioned when you first met. The weather has been growing colder as winter draws closer, the nights becoming darker while the days grow shorter. You've noticed that Tommy has started giving his jacket to Annabel as she sleeps to keep her warm when he notices her shivering in her sleeping bag.

You've watched intently as Annabel gradually grew closer to Tommy, her interactions with him becoming more playful and teasing. He's responded in kind, the two of them engaging in a game of banter and playful torment that keeps you curious and entertained. Even so, there's a small part of you that knows he knows that Annabel is in pain, and you're grateful that Tommy is helping her in a way that you haven’t been able to after all these years.

Although it hasn't only been Annabel that Tommy has taken a liking to, for whatever reason, he finds himself sitting beside you after she falls asleep each night. It's become almost routine at this point. He drapes his jacket over Annabel, makes his way over to you and sits beside you. The first few nights, there were no words exchanged. You simply watched the flames until you inevitably fell asleep while he kept the first watch. Slowly, however, he began to speak with you more and more, and the two of you began to get to know one another in the quiet hours of the night.

It was within the second week of traveling to Wyoming that Tommy finally earned your hard-earned trust. The three of you stumbled across a water park, and your body decided that it was the perfect time for you to undergo a particularly painful monthly cycle. You had felt the shooting pain the day before, and you knew it was going to be a bad flare-up. You were trying your best to hide the pain behind a veil of composure, but the combination of your hormones, cramps, and tiredness was causing you to become increasingly irritable and snappish with both Tommy and Annabel.

You double over in pain as it becomes unbearable, and Tommy rushes over to you, placing a hand on your back. You shove his hand away and mutter that you're fine, but the pain is becoming too much to bear, and the left side of your abdomen feels like it's being tied into knots. You grit your teeth and groan in pain, clutching onto your side as you try to stand up straight and find some relief from the discomfort. It doesn't help, as the pain only worsens with the movement, and you wince as the cramps become even more intense.

Tommy moves to lift your shirt and frowns when he doesn't see a physical wound. You push his hand away once again and stubbornly lower your shirt, refusing to show him any sign of your discomfort. The pain is growing steadily worse, but you force yourself to try and keep up a strong and defiant facade, unable to handle the thought of showing vulnerability to Tommy. You're trying your best to endure, and the tightness of your expression shows just how much you're struggling to contain your emotions and discomfort.

"Are you having one of your flare-ups?" Annabel asks, and you look up at her with an expression of annoyance at her question. You nod, confirming her suspicion but unwilling to acknowledge the pain you're experiencing aloud. 

The cramps are becoming harder to ignore, and you slowly allow yourself to be led to a nearby chair left over from what seems to be a fast food truck. You lower yourself painfully into the chair and continue to try and ignore the shooting pains going up your back.

“I’ll be fine, just need to sit for a bit.” You mutter as Annable gently rubs your shoulder. 

"Flare-ups?" Tommy questions with some curiosity, and you look up at him with a glare. You're annoyed that he's questioning you about this, the pain still lingering and causing you even more discomfort. 

Tommy's eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth hangs open at the sudden realisation, a quiet "Oh " hanging in the air as he looks down between your legs before he continues. "You're on your period?" He questions, and you nod in response. You can see the gears turning in his mind as he considers this new information. “That’s why you’ve been more… stubborn.” He mutters to himself. 

"I swear to the Gods, I will fucking gut you," you threaten, and Tommy quickly lifts his hands up in defence, looking away from you.

"Alright, alright, Sunshine," Tommy apologises as he backs away and evaluates the surroundings of the park, pointing to a tower as a potential safe haven. You internally groan at the distance, knowing that you'll have to force yourself to move in spite of the pain. "It's high enough, sheltered, and looks like a good vantage point to rest," he says, and you nod reluctantly in agreement. "Can you walk that far?" he questions, and you take a deep breath as you try to fight through the pain. You nod in response, determined to power through the discomfort.

Annabel helps you up from the chair, and you take a deep breath before trying to focus on anything else but the pain in your abdomen. You manage to make it to the tower with Annabel's arm around your waist, but the exertion of climbing even one flight of stairs leaves you winded and in pain. You collapse into a sitting position, trying to get comfortable, and you close your eyes and lean your head against the railing. The cold metal feels somewhat soothing, and your breathing slowly becomes more regular as you attempt to relax, if only for a moment. 

“Just… need a minute.” You sigh. 

"You haven't had one this bad in a few months," Annabel sighs as she leans down in front of you. You look up at her with a tired expression as the cramps seem to dissipate slightly, though the pain remains constant and still making your every movement an uncomfortable one.

“I’m okay” You whisper and close your eyes, holding onto your side. 

Tommy realises that you've stopped climbing the stairs and tracks back down, sliding his rifle onto his back with the strap and leaning down. Before you can react, he places his hands under your arms and quickly lifts you to stand without warning, your eyes shooting open once he does so. You let out a small yelp of surprise, and for a moment, you struggle in his grip as your cramps worsen, and the strain of the sudden movement makes your body tense up.

“What are you-” 

"Gonna carry you the rest of the way, lift your legs" Tommy demands, and before you have a chance to argue, he lifts you in a swift motion, and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You're surprised to find yourself light and easy to handle, and you look up at Tommy with a frown as he smoothly transitions to carrying you, placing his left hand on your thigh and his right on your back. To him, it feels like you weigh little more than a bag of feathers, and you find that amusing despite feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

You tense in Tommy's embrace and hold on to him tightly as he climbs the stairs again. "You don't have to carry me," you mutter into his shoulder, your face flushed with embarrassment. You watch as Annabel climbs the stairs behind you, attempting not to laugh and you feel a pang of guilt for making Tommy carry you like this. 

"Just tryin' to be a gentleman,” Tommy replies casually with a hint of a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes at his remark and let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh yes, Tommy, my knight in shining armour, here to carry me upstairs. Wow, such a gentleman." You mock dryly, and his smirk deepens slightly as he continues to carry you up the stairs with ease. He remains silent as Annabel joins in the teasing, and you find yourself laughing a little in spite of the discomfort of your cramps.

"You two are going to be the death of me," Tommy sighs as he reaches the top of the tower and places you down gently. Annabel quietly laughs behind you, and you shake your head, taking a moment to steady yourself as your feet hit the ground. Once you reach relative stability, you turn to face Tommy once more, and he paces the platform, carefully giving everything he can a good shake and nod to check its sturdiness. With a satisfied nod of his own, he turns back to face you and Annabel, seemingly content with the safety of the tower.

"Good enough for you?" You chuckle, still clutching your stomach and grimacing slightly at the movement. Tommy rolls his eyes and leans over the railing, surveying the ground below before looking up at the roof once more and giving it a satisfied nod. You watch for a moment as he seemingly takes in his surroundings, his expression becoming more serious as he does so. He returns to you; his brows knit in concern as he sees your discomfort. 

Tommy slides his bag off his back and sets it against one of the inner structural poles, digging through his pack to take out his sleeping bag and spreading it on the metal floor of the tower. He gestures to the floor with a nod towards the sleeping bag, and you frown. When you don't seem to budge, he simply turns to you and lets out a sigh. "I know yours has holes in it," he says, his voice becoming softer and more serious. "You're already in pain; may as well be comfortable." 

You look into his eyes and see the concern and tenderness in his expression, and the pain in your chest becomes more and more prominent. You hate him for showing you any kindness, knowing that the more he tries to break down your walls and move into your life, the more unbearable it will be when he eventually leaves or dies. You know how this always ends, and you find yourself reluctantly nodding in agreement. You can't keep fighting him anymore, not when you're in this condition. So, you let him win, and the sleeping bag feels soft and smells like him as you lie down on the metal floor. Although smelling like him isn’t a compliment. You can't remember the last time he actually cleaned himself. 

When the sun began to set, and you finally found a position to lay down that eased the pain, Annabel bounces her small rubber ball against the railing. With each bounce, you feel your nerve endings alight in a painful haze, and you grit your teeth, trying to ignore the repetitive noise. You shift, raising your knee closer to your chest as your other leg stretches out, but the cramps and discomfort still make it difficult to find a comfortable position. You do your best to focus on the calming colours of the sunset and the feeling of the cool air on your skin rather than pay attention to the ball bouncing nearby.

No more than two minutes later, you snap.

“I’ll throw that ball off this tower if you bounce it again.” You glare at her as you turn over to face her. Annabel catches the ball and blinks at you. Her mouth twitches, threatening to smile and you raise your eyebrows as if to say, don’t you dare . Her wrist flicks and the ball bounces again against the railing. You groan as Tommy laughs from where he stands beside you. 

“Whoops.” She smirks as she catches it again.

You begin to move from your spot on the sleeping bag to throw the stupid thing as Tommy speaks up, his tone gentle and calming. "Come on, girls, let's not kill each other," he says with a laugh. He turns to look at Annabel and gently pleads with her. "Leave your aunt alone," he tells her before turning back to look out over the edge of the tower, and you notice his expression softening as he looks over the landscape. The sun has almost set by now, and the sky has taken on a red hue. 

"Geez, just trying to have some fun around here," she grumbles, clearly disappointed to have had her game come to an end. However, when Tommy turns back around to look at her, she quickly shrugs and puts her ball back in her jacket pocket. He doesn't seem to push the issue any further, and his attention appears to be directed towards you as he gently nudges you back to the sleeping bag with a few taps of his foot. You groan a little as you try to get comfortable again, but you don't argue as you lie back down on the metal floor.

Tommy eventually settles down beside you with his back leaning against the railing, the sun having set and the moon filling the night sky. A soft blanket of shadows covers his face as he looks down at you for a moment, and while you're not entirely sure of his expression in the dark, you feel him reaching a hand to gently brush your hair back and tuck it behind your ear. You don't make any attempt to move out of his way as he does so. 

"I didn't realise periods could be so... painful," he admits as he eases his hand out of your hair and back into his lap, an expression of genuine concern on his face as he looks down at you. 

Annabel has remained quiet for some time now, her focus taken up by a book she found a few days prior. She lets out a small chuckle when she hears Tommy's comment, but you keep your eyes on her, wondering if she's going to say anything else. However, she doesn't, and a brief moment of silence settles in between the three of you.

"They're normally not," you reply. "I have endometriosis, it can be a... bitch sometimes."

 Annabel snorts at your description, but Tommy's expression twists in a visible look of confusion. He stares at you for a moment before speaking up. 

"Endometri…?" he repeats in a questioning tone as if he's never heard of the word before. Annabel looks at him, her smile fading as she realises that he's never dealt with this particular issue before. “You dying or something?”

The two of you chuckle together before you shake your head and sit up a little against the pole behind you to face Tommy properly. "No, no. Nothing like that," you reassure him with a faint smile and his face softens when he realises that there's nothing to worry about. He relaxes his body and leans his head against the railing, and for a moment, the three of you sit in silence. The night has descended and the air is still and quiet, the only sound coming from the subtle breeze blowing through the sky and the occasional rustle as Tommy rests against the metal railing of the tower.   

"So, what is it, then?" he finally asks. 

"You want me to go full scientific or dumb it down for you?" you smirk, teasing Tommy with your knowledge of a medical condition he's never heard of before. He scoffs a bit and glances back to Annabel, who has put her book down to listen in on your exchange.

"Dumb it down. I'm a simple man," Tommy says, raising his hands in an exaggerated mocking gesture but keeping a light, playful tone. 

You nod and look up at the stars, thinking of how to word it for him. “It’s a condition, disease – whatever you want to call it – where tissue similar to the lining of your uterus grows elsewhere as well. Sometimes, it can attach to other organs, too, like the ovaries and intestines, causing a shit load of pain. 

“The problem is, is that tissue still acts like the lining of the uterus, so when you get your period, those tissues also bleed and tear. It can also cause problems with fertility and infertility.." You explain, and Tommy nods again, his expression becoming more serious as he listens.

“How bad is it?” He asks, looking back up at you. 

You sigh and shrug. “Haven’t exactly had any scans lately.” You huff a laugh. “But I was diagnosed back in 02. My poor brother thought I was dying and took me to the E.R. Did some tests. Back then, it was all over my ovaries. But it can get bad, not always this bad though," you reply to Tommy, glancing back up at him.

"I'm sorry," Tommy sighs, his sympathy clear in his expression as he sees you flinch from another sudden bout of pain.

"It's fine," you assure Tommy, waving your hand dismissively as you lay back down. "At least I can't get pregnant with infected running around and people trying to kill us," you add, attempting to inject some levity into the situation by making a joke, and Annabel groans as she lies down herself. She doesn't find your joke as amusing, but Tommy's expression softens as he looks at you both. You let out a slow sigh before shifting slightly, a grimace of discomfort crossing your face as the cramps and nausea increase once more.

"Just go to sleep, the both of you," Tommy tells you and Annabel with a roll of his eyes, and you smile back in appreciation as he offers to keep watch first. You make a mental note to thank him later and try to find a comfortable position.

Annabel groans in resignation, settling back down on the floor with an annoyed expression as she watches Tommy take his place next to the railing. You do your best to close your eyes and relax, letting the calm night air wash over your face, trying in vain to ease the discomfort.

You wake with a start to a bloodcurdling scream and instinctively jolt into a sitting position, your eyes frantically scanning the platform around you as you search for Annabel in a state of panic. The moon is still high in the sky, and the night is as quiet as it was before, with nothing but the sound of gentle wind gently blowing over the tower. There's no sign of Annabel anywhere on the platform. You try to calm your quickening heartbeat as you start to rise to your feet.

As you scramble to a standing position, your eyes quickly dart over to Tommy, who has just set down his hunting rifle against the railing on the other side of the platform. The moment your eyes land on it, your heart skips a beat at the thought of Tommy aiming his rifle through the scope, and your eyes widen in fear.

He’s killed her. He’s fucking shot her. 

Tommy takes a deep breath and presses on the trigger of the rifle, and you jolt in response to the loud sound of the firing gun. Your ears ring slightly and you shut your eyes tight as you wince. When you open your eyes again, you notice Tommy staring off into the distance; his expression hardens as he watches something through the scope of his rifle.

He shoots again. And again. 

"Tommy-" you whisper, your voice faint and trembling with tension.

"Quiet. Infected," He snaps at you quickly as he takes another deep breath and fires the gun again, his voice harsher than before as he focuses on the target in the distance. 

You freeze in your place, your ears ringing as you wait for the next shot. When it comes, you almost flinch but manage to keep still, your eyes fixed on Tommy's back. After a moment, he fires the gun once more, his expression becoming more and more concentrated with each shot.

“Annabel-” 

"Stairs," Tommy says with a grunt as he reloads his rifle, and you remain where you are, stunned by the sudden change in his demeanour. "Pack your shit, we gotta move." He orders more forcefully this time, his voice sharp and filled with urgency, and you don't move. "DO IT NOW!" he shouts, and the sudden shift in his tone and the look of anger in his eyes causes you to jump in surprise, prompting you to gather your things quickly.

Annabel arrives at the top of the stairs and pants, out of breath as Tommy lays the rifle down against the railing and adjusts the scope. 

“What-”

“Went to pee, fucking clickers showed up out of nowhere,” Annabel explains as she kneels in front of her backpack. Seeing her in distress and how her hands shake as she tries to pack her things up quickly, you turn back to Tommy once more with wide eyes as he curses and steps back from the railing. He storms over to you and picks up his bag, and swings it over his shoulder.

However, before you can say anything, Tommy barks out another order, his voice stern and commanding as it rings through the tower. "There’s too many of them, I really fucking hope you can run Sunshine.” 

You nod frantically and scramble to grab your backpack in response to Tommy's warning, the urgency in his voice making your movements swift and hasty. Annabel does the same, quickly scooping up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Annabel runs over to the stairs and leans over the railing, swearing. “They’re coming up the stairs, Tommy.” Her voice cracks and she stumbles back, terrified. 

"Down the slide," Tommy directs with a sharp nod of his head towards the slide, and your eyes widen in surprise. You glance at the enclosed slide for a moment, imagining the worst-case scenario of being stuck in that small, confined space while an infected rushes up the slide towards you. Annabel has already made her way towards it, but she doesn't look convinced either.  

"If it was an open slide, maybe, but it's a fucking enclosed one," you reply with an agitated expression. "An infected could block us in, and we'd be completely fucked."

Tommy groans and shoves you towards the slide, making another sudden move as he snatches your gun from your holster and shoves it into your chest, his expression becoming stern again. "No arguments. You go down first, then Anna. I'll cover the back," he orders you, his tone brooking no argument.   

Annabel looks up at him with a worried expression, her eyes filled with anxiety as she nods in response to Tommy's instructions, but she says nothing.  

"Go, now!" Tommy orders sharply, and you flinch at the sudden outburst and his loud tone. You hurry to crouch and enter the enclosed slide, the cramping pain in your abdomen slowly returning as you do so. Despite having to hunch over to fit inside the enclosed slide, your legs are still able to stand fully as you slowly make your way down it, keeping your torso bent downwards to avoid banging your head against the top. You squint your eyes as you turn on the flashlight equipped onto your bag strap over your shoulder. 

Annabel follows after you, her expression becoming more fearful as she enters the slide next. She's breathing hard and sweating, her face pale, and you know she's terrified, but she manages to keep calm. 

You pause in your descent as you hear the sound of Tommy firing his rifle a few times from the platform, the loud gunshots reverberating through the enclosed tube. Annabel leans over, grabbing your hand tightly as he enters the tube and catches up to you where you wait for him. "Got the few coming up the stairs, shouldn't be any more behind us," he says quickly and grunts from the discomfort of being taller and having to hunch over further. 

"Told you being shorter was an advantage," you tease, and Annabel lets out a soft laugh, though Tommy just grunts in response to your comment. 

"Very funny, now move," he deadpans, gesturing for you to hurry as he keeps his gaze fixed in front of you, his rifle ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

You keep your gun drawn as you move slowly and carefully down the slide, using the flashlight to illuminate the dark space around you. The tube is quiet, and aside from the sound of your own breathing, you hear nothing but the subtle echo of your footsteps or the occasional scrape of your body or clothes against the side of the slide. The silence in the enclosed space is eerie, and you find it difficult to remain focused as you continue to move, the dull but constant pain in your abdomen and the fear of what you might face at the bottom of the slide weighing on your mind.

You sigh in relief as you see the light from the full moon at the end of the tube on the last corner. You reach the end of the slide and pause for a moment, taking in your surroundings with a nervous expression as you contemplate your next move and listen intently for any incoming infected. You seat yourself on the edge and turn over to your stomach with your legs dangling over the edge and push yourself down until you hang on by your hands and drop the rest of the way into the empty pool.

You steady yourself and look up and wave your hands towards you, gesturing for Annabel to follow.

Then you hear the clicks. 

Your heart drops.

Time slows almost to a halt as you see movement in your peripheral vision. Your focus locks on Annabel's mouth as it opens wide in a scream, and you see Tommy's hand rip her from the edge of the slide before she jumps down, throwing her behind him. The clicker is jumping at you from the edge of the pool, and you tear your eyes away from Annabel towards it, only to see the infected's face only inches from your own a split second before it grabs you and slams you into the dirty concrete. A scream tears through your throat as you make the harsh connection with the bottom of the pool, your chest tightening. 

Annabel screams again as you're tackled off your feet, and you close your eyes in fear as the infected's weight forces you to the floor, its weight on top of you and its jaws just inches away from your throat.

You stare up at the clicker in a panic, your hands grabbing onto its shoulders as you try to hold it off. Its gums pull back with a snarl, exposing its rotten, bloody teeth as they snap at you again and again, desperate to tear into your flesh. The panic escalates as its fetid breath fills your nose, and you try to fight it off with all the strength you can muster, but the clicker is relentless in its attempt to sink its teeth into you. You're stuck beneath it, your body frozen and your face twisted in fear and agony as the monster prepares to strike.

You stare up at the clicker in terror and panic, your hands gripping firmly onto its shoulders as you try to hold it off. If you let go, even just for a second, you know you'll be bitten. If you could just let go for a moment to aim your gun, to shoot it, you could probably kill it. But you can't. The terror grows as you stare into its rotten, bloodstained teeth as it continues to try and tear into you.

The infected's death rattle echoes in your ears, and you feel the jolts of the body above you as bullets tear through its head, millimetres away from hitting you. The infected slumps against your body in a lifeless state, and you lie there on the cold, hard ground, still trying to recover from the shock and process what just happened. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breathing comes in laboured gasps as you slowly start to take in your surroundings once again. 

Fuck – Tommy’s a good shot.

Tommy yanks the body off you and you take in a deep breath, relieved to feel the lack of weight now on your chest.

Annabel's weight replaces the infected on top of you, and her body drapes over yours in a tender hug. You feel her face press against your shoulder as her sobs continue to shake her body, and you can't help but feel empathy for her as she hugs you tightly. You focus on calming yourself, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you try to collect your thoughts.

"You bit?" Tommy asks you after a moment from behind you, his expression filled with concern as you crane your neck to look up at him. 

You shift your focus back to Annabel in your arms, her face buried against your shoulder as she continues to cry. Her sobs continue to rock her body, and she presses her face even more tightly into your shoulder as she waits for your response.

You close your eyes and sigh into Annabel's embrace. “No, don’t think so.” 

The two of you cling to each other, having recently gone through a life-threatening experience. You let out a slow, shaky breath as you try to calm your racing heart, and Annabel presses closer to you.

Tommy taps Annabel's back, and she flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, her body trembling and shaking in response. She quickly recovers from her moment of fright, realising that it was only Tommy's hand touching her and not an infected trying to grab her.

“Come on, we should get out of here,” Tommy says softly, and Annabel nods, rising to her feet.

Tommy outstretches his hand to help you up, and this time, you take it.

Tommy's hand softly pulls at the collar of your shirt, tugging as he checks for a bite on one shoulder. You feel his grasp shift as he pulls the fabric to the side and then to the other, exposing your other shoulder before his hand shifts yet again. This time, he moves his touch downward, slowly pulling up the shirt's fabric to examine your skin. His hand gently lifts your sleeves as he carefully checks your body for any trace of a bite. The sensation is oddly tender, and you have to stop yourself from tensing up from his close contact, not used to being touched.

He steps back and nods, a silent question. 

You good ?

You nod back. 

Yes.

The flickering flame from Tommy’s modest campfire roars to life the next night, and you close your eyes in delight at the welcome warmth. Annabel's laughter fills the night air, her praise bolstering Tommy's ego as he basks in the glow of her admiration.

You slowly open one eye and see Annabel high-five Tommy, his smile wide as he joins in her laughter. With a shake of your head, you murmur, "His ego is big enough. You don’t need to encourage it." Your own laugh comes out quietly as you uncross your legs to stretch them out, leaning back on your arms.

Tommy points a finger at you and shakes his head in mock frustration, and you can't help but laugh internally. "You let the girl praise me however she pleases," he teases, his laughter carrying a slight hint of amusement as he lowers his hand to toss his lighter aside to be put away later.

You roll your eyes and hide your smile as you turn your head away from the pair.

You still remain distrustful of him, of course, but the way he's taken care of Annabel causes your suspicions to dwindle slightly. Perhaps he isn't as much of a threat as you first believed.

Tommy's grunt as he sits beside you startles you out of your thoughts, and your head whips towards him as he bends his legs and places his arms on his knees. Your body stiffens in response to his sudden movement and the fact that he's so close to you, but you try your best to control your tension. He says nothing, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the crickets. For a moment, you wonder why he's sitting so close, but he says nothing. He simply watches you quietly, his gaze studying you.

Your eyes wander to Annabel, who sleeps peacefully against a nearby tree. Tommy's jacket drapes over her along with her own, and you wonder just how long you've been lost inside your thoughts. You quickly glance back to Tommy, who continues to study you silently, his face conveying concern and curiosity.

“Is your…” He trails off while gesturing to your stomach. “You know… still giving you grief?” He asks awkwardly

You roll your eyes and shake your head.

"You've been quiet today, Sunshine," Tommy frowns, his voice carrying a touch of concern. He watches you for a moment and then gestures towards your head. "You haven’t threatened to kill me today. What's going on inside that head of yours?" He asks, and you raise an eyebrow at him in response. "I've noticed you get lost up there a bit," he adds, and you can't deny the fact that his words are true.

Your body tenses up, and you consider not answering. But something about his question feels sincere, and you find yourself hesitating for a moment. After a moment, you decide to answer him honestly. 

"I could have died yesterday," you mumble darkly as you stare into the flames, the memory of the events of yesterday playing out in your mind like a nightmare. "I could have been bit and she would have watched me die. She would be alone," you continue, allowing the full weight of the fear and trauma of the infected encounter to sink in. You feel a heaviness settling over you as you reflect on how close you came to losing everything in just a few short moments.

"If something happens-" you continue, your voice quiet and heavy with emotion. You're cut off mid-sentence by Tommy placing a soothing hand on your knee, and you look up at him, his gaze kind and his expression understanding.

"Nothing's going to happen to you. To either of you," he reassures, his voice calm and the touch of his hand on your knee still present in a soothing way. He nods, avoiding your gaze and seemingly not wanting to get into a deeper conversation about the possibility of something bad happening. 

You take a deep breath and continue your thoughts, determined to finish what you started. "But if something happens to me--" You raise your hand to stop Tommy from interrupting you again, and he looks at you, finally meeting your gaze as he shuts his mouth. "If something happens to me, promise me you'll take her to Jackson, or wherever you choose to go. That you'll keep her safe," you say, placing your hand on top of his. "That you'll kill anyone or anything that tries to hurt her." Your expression remains steady and determined, wanting to make sure that Tommy understands the weight of this request.

After a moment of consideration and thoughtful deliberation, Tommy slowly nods in response to your request, understanding the weight of your words and the seriousness of your request. "I promise," he says softly, his voice tender and his eyes focused on yours.

"We haven't been in a community in a very long time, Tommy," you reveal, and he nods in understanding. "We stayed clear of quarantine zones and any sign of a community while Dean was around," you continue, and Tommy listens silently. When you start to ramble your confession, he nods again, attempting to reassure you. "It’s only ever been us. Sure there was Dean, but at the end of the day it’s always been us. We don't know how to... Deal with large groups of people, what if I fuck it up and get Annabel and I thrown out, and we're on our own again," you say with a sigh.

Tommy pokes the fire with a stick as he listens to you, and the fire continues to burn in front of you. “My brother, Joel and I were on our own for a while in a small group.” He shares as he watches the fire, and you focus your attention on him. “We did a lot of things that still haunt me to this day, but I had the same feeling as you do now. I was scared that after everything we did, I wouldn't know how to function in society again, but I left them and joined the Fireflies, hoping to create a better world. It took a bit of adjusting, but I made it work.” He sets his stick back down next to him and sighs as he looks back over at you. 

You take a moment to absorb his words and insight into his past. You’ve heard of the Fireflies, seen their propaganda near quarantine zones and heard Dean mention them a few times after coming back from trading with different groups. Maybe he had crossed paths with Tommy before?    

"What made you leave the Fireflies?" You ask curiously, and Tommy's expression grows serious. 

He pauses for a moment as he considers his answer, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt for having brought up such a sensitive subject. But you want to know his story, and you need to know his reasons for leaving. Tommy sighs quietly and stares at the fire for a moment longer before meeting your gaze again. "I needed a change," he eventually says, his tone quiet.

After a moment's pause, he continues. “When I saw you for the first time, you had that same scared look in your eyes that I did when I was with Joel. You were covered in so much blood, and you looked terrified.” He shakes his head and stifles a chuckle before he continues again. “You were a force to reckon with and ready to kill me, but you were still terrified. I wasn’t going to bring you or Annabel with me, but I couldn’t leave you two there.” 

You frown at his words, and you give a slight nod in response. You recall the sheer terror you felt after dealing with the raiders and returning to him with Annabel, the stress and exhaustion from the situation leaving you shaken and tense.

"I was going to kill you the second I saw you, but I heard you make Annabel laugh," you confess, and Tommy nods in understanding. You frown again, trying to shake off the memory of that day, and you nod slowly. "I'm glad I hesitated," you conclude, your confession taking its toll, and you close your eyes as you attempt to push the feeling down. “You make her happy.”

Tommy's hands wrap around your shoulders, and your eyes open in shock as he pulls you into a side hug. Surprised by his touch, you lose balance and clutch the fabric of his shirt as your legs scramble beside you on the ground. His hands feel like fire against your skin, causing panic to rise in your chest at his unexpected touch. Every fiber of your being screams at you to pull away immediately, but you remain frozen in place, your expression betraying your fear, even though your heart is racing.  

Tommy must feel your body begin to shake since he leans back and looks down at you, his hand gently wiping away a tear that you never noticed until he draws your attention to it. Surprised and embarrassed, you try to suppress your tears as you look back up to him. His eyes dart between your teary eyes, worry evident in his. "Why are you crying?" He whispers softly, and you shake your head quickly, trying to deny the tears you can no longer hold back. 

You didn't expect this reaction, and it starts to confuse you further. The tears slowly turn into quiet sobs, and Tommy holds you closer to his chest – where you’re sure you're leaving snot and tears on his shirt. 

Why are you crying? You don’t cry .

You find yourself crying without restraint now that you're in Tommy's arms as the fire his touch creates slowly turns to comfort. To safety. As the tears fall, you feel a mixture of emotions run through you, an overwhelming sensation as you release all the pain and fear you've been holding onto for years. His embrace is gentle yet calming, and you can feel your body gradually relax as you allow him to comfort you. His presence eases your mind, helping you forget about all the troubles and worries that fill your world. You can’t remember the last time you allowed someone to touch you besides Annabel. And that scares you. Terrifies you. 

"You're okay, Sunshine. It's okay," Tommy soothes you, his hands gently rubbing your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. Your tears continue to flow freely, and you can feel his embrace become even more protective of you. The fire crackles softly nearby as Tommy continues to rub your shoulder, attempting to help you overcome the pain you've suffered. His voice is gentle and soft, his words providing a sense of comfort and security in you that you didn't expect but is also desperately needed.

“I’m so tired, Tommy. I can’t do this anymore.” You cry between sobs.

You cry for your brother, the pain of losing him still sharp even after all these years, and you wish you could have done more to save him. You cry for Annabel, who didn't deserve to lose her father so young. You cry for the lives you took to protect yourself, to protect Annabel, and you wonder if they were deserved. You cry for your own pain, for the world you live in, for all of the lives you've taken to survive.

You aren't sure how long you cried in his arms or how long it took to cry yourself to sleep, but when you wake up, your head is resting on his lap, and his jacket is keeping you warm. His fingers are gently tangled within your hair, and you look up at him with hazy eyes, surprised that he is still there. His smile is sympathetic as he meets your gaze, and you feel a sense of comfort return to you. He's still there, still holding you, and you can't help but feel a bit of relief at his continued presence.

"Feeling better, Sunshine?" He whispers, and you can hear the quiet concern in his voice. You look up at him as he gently detangles your hair with his fingers. You nod in response to his question, and as you sit up in his lap, you take in his warm expression in the moonlight.

You rub your eyes as you yawn, your focus shifting towards Annabel. You notice that Tommy's jacket is no longer covering her and is now bundled over your legs, having moved when you sat up. "Sorry," you say, and Tommy just smiles in response. 

"Don' worry ‘bout it," Tommy reassures you, letting out a yawn of his own as he does so. "Annabel mentioned the other day she was worried ‘bout ya," he pauses for a moment and tilts his head, considering what he wants to say next. "Said ya don’ talk to ‘er ‘bout anythin’ you've been through," he adds with another yawn. 

You would have smiled at Tommy's southern accent, which is more prominent in his sleepy state, if not for the words that hit you like a truck. You can't deny that she's seen you suffer, but you've fought against displaying your emotions to her, wanting to be strong for her. You realise now how little she actually knows about you and what you're truly feeling, and it's making you consider whether or not it's time to let down your walls and let her in, finally. She’s not a little kid anymore. 

"I forget she's not a kid anymore," you agree with Tommy, realising that the little girl is now nearly an adult. "I mean, she's seventeen now, but I still see her as the little four-year-old I had to carry around." You sigh as you twist your back to crack it, feeling the stiffness from sleeping on Tommy's lap. "Gods, I basically raised the kid since Dean was always off hunting or looting for days on end," you add, and Tommy raises an eyebrow in understanding.

“I guess with everything going on, I just didn't want to put her through any more than she already had to deal with," you continue, and Tommy nods in response. "Didn't want her to see how scared I was. Or weak," you say quietly, thinking about how hard it is to show your true self to Annabel. "I guess that's why I've always kinda kept her at a distance when it comes to my emotions," you add, and Tommy looks over at you with a sympathetic gaze.

Tommy slowly shifts against the tree and rolls his shoulders and neck, looking a little less tense as he relaxes slightly. "Joel used to do the same thing to me. Shut me out when shit went south," he says with a sigh, his voice tired and his eyes closed as he leans against the tree. "It's not healthy," he adds after a moment. He opens his eyes after a little bit and turns to face you, his expression soft and his tone understanding as he continues, "And as a younger sibling myself, I can tell she just wants to help ya. Let her." 

You nod in response to Tommy's words, taking them into account as you glance over at Annabel, who is still asleep. "Alright, Tommy. You get some sleep, I'll take over the watch," you tell him quietly, your voice low so as not to disturb Annabel as she rests nearby.

Tommy slowly nods, yawning slightly as he closes his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and shifts against the tree to get comfortable. "Wake me if you need anything," he says sleepily. 

You nod and frown at Tommy as he gets comfortable and settles down to rest, and you can't help but feel a soft tug at your heart. You want to trust him, but your mind screams at you every time you lower your guard around the man. He's been nothing but kind to you, and you've been nothing but short and rude to him, hoping to keep him at arm's length and protect yourself from pain. But as he continues to push and push, your walls start to crumble, and you're forced to grapple with the possibility of letting him in. 

You hate him. Annabel loves him, so you tolerate him.

But you know that's a lie.

Your eyes widen as you make the realisation, and you look over at Tommy, seeing the soft curls that have draped over his face as he drifts off to sleep. His eyes are closed, and his chest slowly rises and falls with deep breaths. Gradually, his snores begin to turn from soft and low to louder and more forceful. You watch in silent contemplation, the soft glow of the fire casting shadows against the darkness that surrounds you and illuminating Tommy's face, which seems almost peaceful in sleep. You feel a pang in your chest as you look at him, wanting to protect him and make sure that no harm ever comes his way. 

Your entire life, you've only felt the need to protect Annabel, feeling the overwhelming desire to shield her from the dangers of this new world. You would die for her. 

You think back to the people who have come and gone through your life, and you recall Dean, who gave up everything at sixteen to raise you after your mother died during childbirth and your father passed before that due to cancer. You loved him, but ultimately, you never would've considered dying for him. But in the end, he gave his life for you and Annabel, leaving a hole that never quite healed and a lingering sadness that has followed you ever since.

There was your first boyfriend, then your first girlfriend. Two relationships that didn't last long enough for you to form a connection with either of them fully. Their lives cut short by the cruel realities of the world. As the realisation sinks in, you feel a pang of heartache and loss, mourning the connections that could've been but were never fully formed. You wonder how your life would've turned out if things had been different if both of them had lived and your relationships had had time to blossom and grow.

But in this moment, as you watch Tommy sleep, your heart stirs, and you realise that you would die for him as well as Annabel. There's a softness that spreads across your heart as the realisation hits you, and you reach over and gently brush away a lock of hair that's draped in his face, gazing at the peacefulness that blankets his expression and feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over you.

You would trust Annabel with him.

You would die for Tommy.

Now

Spring 2024 

Two Weeks Later

You are going to kill him.

You stare furiously up at Tommy from where you sit on his couch, your eyes narrow and your jaw clenched with simmering anger. The smug look on his face only grows as you continue to sit in front of him, and you can feel your blood boiling with rage. The stupid, smug look that covers his face only fuels the flames of your anger, his expression adding to the heat of your rage.

"Pick up four," he grins and places a +4 wild card on the stack of cards that are laid out in front of you on the coffee table, followed by a mischievous wink. "Oh, and UNO," he adds with a laugh, seeming to delight in your irritation.

You narrow your eyes in irritation, picking up the four cards that Tommy dealt you while muttering under your breath. You glare at him, your annoyance and frustration growing even more as you feel the unfairness of the situation. But Tommy only grins even wider at your visible irritation, his smug expression indicating that he knows exactly what he's doing and enjoying the reaction he's getting out of you. 

You lean back in the chair and wince in response to the lingering pain in your stomach, your healing process has been slow and tedious. You spent two weeks in the clinic before the doctors finally let you leave under strict instructions that you stay with Tommy and his wife, Maria. Since living alone these days without... her , you've been struggling to take care of yourself properly, and the doctors – as well as Tommy – feared that you might do yourself more harm if left without supervision. So, they insisted that you stay with him and Maria until you fully recover.

It took three hours of your stay before Tommy finally offered to play a game, the boredom of the last few weeks weighing heavy on your mind. You were grateful for the distraction and the opportunity to do something other than stare at the walls or the doctors and nurses bustling about the building. You had to keep your mind from racing as your body and mind cried out for action, for something to help you escape the tedium of isolation. Having a game to occupy your mind and lift your spirits was just what you needed, and you were secretly thankful that Tommy had initiated the idea.

You would never tell him that, though. 

"Your turn," you snarl in response, glaring at him over the cards you hold in your hand, and he smirks back, still enjoying and provoking your irritation. You clench your jaw and try to focus on the game, wanting to win just to spite Tommy and bring his smugness to an end.

He slowly reveals his last card between his two fingers and places it on the pile of cards, glancing over at you with a smug smile on his face as he does so.

You groan in defeat and drop your cards on the table in front of you, the feeling of losing sitting heavily in your chest. "You suck," you whine, letting your emotions get the better of you for a moment before collecting yourself and shaking your head. 

Despite the loss, you realise that the game served its purpose; it kept you distracted and it eased the heavy boredom that has been weighing on you over the last couple of weeks. Despite the defeat, you still feel a sense of satisfaction that you were able to engage in something other than sitting alone with your thoughts for a while.

Tommy laughs as he begins to pick up the cards from the table, and you respond with a roll of your eyes before sinking further into the couch with a loud sigh. "Oh, don't be a sore loser, Sunshine," he teases, looking up at you between his eyelashes.

"Whatever," you mumble under your breath, trying to downplay the embarrassment you feel at being beaten at the game. But Tommy isn't having any of it, and you see a slight hint of a knowing grin on his face as you realise that your attempts to hide your feelings of embarrassment are futile.

“How's your stomach? Need me to have a look at it? I haven’t seen it since it happened," Tommy asks as he picks up the last card, and you glance down at the cut on your stomach, which still aches. You're not eager to have him look at it, as the wound still feels raw and sensitive, but you nod in response to his question, knowing that he's just trying to be kind and help you take care of your injury.

It took the two brothers nine hours on horseback to bring you back to Jackson. Tommy held you close to his chest and carefully avoided touching your wound while you sat between his legs on his horse. Once he was satisfied with the distance he put between you and the church, he lowered you to the ground on a soft patch of grass and began to properly tend to your wound, stitching and cleaning it as he worked with Joel's help.

It took nine hours and six stops to tend to your wound before you reached the safety of Jackson.

Tommy stands from the armchair, placing the cards on the table before reaching for your hand and helping you up from the couch. You gasp in pain when your injured abdomen is suddenly jarred awake, and Tommy apologises in response to your reaction. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your hand around his shoulders as he leads you across the room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. He carefully lowers you onto the closed toilet seat, and you wince slightly as you sit down, but you find a comfortable position and let out a sigh of relief as your body relaxes.

Tommy crouches in front of you and gently lifts your shirt, exposing the now-uncovered and partially healed wound. You wince at the discomfort of the gesture, and a surge of anxiety and nervousness creeps down your spine as you feel Tommy's eyes on you, studying the cut on your stomach. He stares for a beat before shaking his head and reaching for a cloth on the sink, wetting it with water and returning to crouch between your legs. He begins to carefully dab the area around and along the wound, and you breathe in slowly and deeply in an effort to manage the stinging sensation.  

“I thought you were going to die on me,” Tommy mumbles as he collects a bottle of antiseptic from the cabinet across the bathroom, and you look down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. The admission hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you can hear the cap twist and then he shifts as he pours it onto a clean cloth. 

"You can't get rid of me that easily," you say, attempting to lighten the mood with a huff. To your surprise, when you look back up at Tommy, he seems frustrated as he sighs. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, wondering if your joke somehow upset him. He doesn't elaborate and instead, he focuses on your wound, dabbing the antiseptic on the area with gentle strokes. You manage to ignore the slight sting and keep still, but you're still curious about his annoyance at your little joke.

You open your mouth to question Tommy but your words are cut short as he pushes slightly on your wound, causing you to hiss in involuntary discomfort and pain. You look up at him, and he's now leaning back on his heels with his hand resting on your knee. He stares up at you, a sad and pained expression in his eyes. "It is that easy though, isn't it? One mistake, and you're gone. One stupid mistake and you're dead and I've lost both you and Annabel," he says softly, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt in his expression.

"Don't-" 

"No. Stop pushing me away," he says sternly as he speaks over you, his eyes meeting yours. "I promised you I would hunt those bastards with you and you left me here while you went and nearly got yourself killed. We–" he gestures between the two of you, "do this together. I have your back while you have mine," he says with firmness and conviction, indicating that he won't budge on this, or accept any denial.

"I know," you whisper in response, acknowledging Tommy's words and the strength of his convictions. You don't try to argue with him or push against his will this time, as you realise he means what he says. There's no point in getting into an argument about this, so you simply nod, signaling that you heard and understand him, and are willing to move forward with those terms.

"Do you? You going to run off in the middle of the night again?" Tommy questions with a skeptical expression, and you look away from his probing gaze and bite back the urge to snap back a snide response. Instead, you simply turn back to look at him, meeting his eyes and offering a faint nod.

Tommy's hand remains on your knee, his gaze never leaving yours as the two of you exchange a simple and subtle acceptance of this mutual understanding. You both know what needs to be done, and there's no point in arguing or pushing each other away. You're in this together, and you'll stay that way. There is no other option.

Tommy sighs and stands up, gently lifting you off the seat with him and bringing you close for a tight hug. Your hands grip onto the back of his shirt, and you allow yourself to lean into him. Despite the pain of your injury, you feel a gentle sense of comfort and stability as his strong arms hold you close, and you let out a soft sigh as the hug helps to ease some of the lingering tension and discomfort in your body. As you grip his shirt and sink into the hug, you allow yourself to rest and to take comfort in his embrace.

A knock on the door tears Tommy's attention away from you, as Maria yells at him from the kitchen to go and get the door. He gives you an apologetic smile as he looks down at you, and your grip on his shirt only tightens as you feel a stab of disappointment at the interruption. You don't want to be separated from him just yet, knowing that you'll miss his presence and comfort. Still, you release him and he gives you an apologetic smile as he looks down at you.

"Coming," Tommy calls out as he guides you back into the living room and sets you down on the couch. You settle into it and he heads towards the front entrance of his home to answer the knocking on the door.  

You still your breaths to listen to the hushed voices in the entryway, hoping to catch a few words that would provide you with some insight into who might be at the door. Your curiosity and anticipation are high, and even if only for a moment, you're able to drown out the pain of your injury with the hope that you'll learn a little more about the situation outside. But as you listen intently, struggling to understand their words, you realise that you still can't discern anything of value. The uncertainty just deepens the mystery and heightens your anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity, your eyes follow Tommy as he steps back into the room, now accompanied by his brother Joel. You instantly lock eyes with Joel, and his face remains blank and devoid of emotions as he continues to stare back. You notice a slight tenseness about him, and his neutral expression is off-putting and unsettling. You exchange a quick glance with Tommy before your gaze shifts back to Joel, and you find yourself unable to look away. You're not sure of what to say or do in this situation, and you wait for either of them to break the tension and say something.

You take a moment to study him this time, properly absorbing his appearance. In your wounded and anger-clouded mind when you saw him last, you didn’t take the time to properly look at him. He does seem... familiar. Almost like a dream that you've partly forgotten that you wake up from, desperately trying to recall. Perhaps it's hazel eyes, or his weathered yet kind expression, that reminds you of someone? The recognition is fuzzy and fleeting, but his presence stirs an unexpected sense of... comfort?

Still, the sense of familiarity lingers, and you can't quite shake the feeling that you've seen this man before.

"Heard you were out of the woods," Joel mutters after a beat, his expression still blank and his tone neutral. You look back at him in confusion, unsure of what he means by that or how exactly to respond. You glance over at Tommy for any kind of explanation or clarification.

"He means he heard you're no longer dyin'" Tommy repeats for your benefit, and you nod in understanding and confirmation. You glance back at Joel, who remains utterly still and expressionless. 

"Oh, right. Thank you, for uh, showing up with Tommy," you awkwardly thank him, and he grunts in response. The tension in the room is palpable, and you still don't quite know what to make of Joel's presence. It’s very overwhelming. 

Why is he so familiar? Is it because he’s Tommy’s brother?

You reluctantly turn your attention from Joel back to Tommy, who sits back down in his chair and runs a hand over his face. His eyes are closed as he lets out a soft huff of frustration, and you look at him with concern and curiosity.

"So, why are you here?" you ask Joel, your frustration evident in your tone. You hadn't meant to come across as harsh or annoyed, but you still want to know the answer to your question. Tommy sits quietly in his chair, his eyes closed as he listens to your exchange with his brother, and you shift your focus back to Joel, waiting for a response.

"Joel has taken up your patrol route while you've been out of action," Tommy explains, and you shift your focus from Joel back to Tommy. You feel a hint of frustration in your stomach at the idea of someone else taking your route, but you push it down and try to conceal your feelings, not wanting to cause any further tension than there already is. You're still curious about why Joel is here, but you don't say anything yet, wanting to give Tommy the chance to explain without any interruptions or additional pressure.

"He came across a few raiders tonight." Tommy sighs and looks up at his older brother, and you wait for a moment, expecting Joel to expand on the sentence and provide more information. However, he stays silent, keeping his neutral expression and not uttering a word. You look over at Tommy, noticing his disappointment and frustration towards his brother's lack of elaboration, and you're left wondering what exactly was encountered or if there's a reason for Joel's continued silence.

You nod at Tommy's words and recall the last time you encountered raiders while on your patrol route, remembering how you'd given them a fierce warning not to step near the cabin. It has been months since you last saw any raiders, but now, it seems that they've chosen to ignore your warning. Judging by Tommy's weary look, things hadn't gone too well for Joel tonight, and you can't help but feel a twinge of frustration and anxiety as you consider the possibility of more raiders returning to the area.

Your hands grip the sides of the couch as you try to stay calm, and your nails dig into the delicate fabric as you struggle to contain a growing sense of worry and anxiety. You cast a quick look over at Tommy, noticing his own tense demeanour as he studies his older brother's blank expression. The anticipation and tension in the room are immense, and it's taking all of your willpower just to stay still and keep quiet while you await any further information or elaboration regarding the encounters with the raiders tonight.

"They were looking for you," Joel finally speaks, his voice still low and calm as he enters the room and stands beside Tommy. 

Your grip on the couch loosens and your shoulders shake in a silent laugh as you agree with him. "Of course they are," you say, and then offer a small but amused shake of your head. "Why?" you ask, your tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "I've done a lot to piss a lot of people off. What's their reason?" It's a reasonable question, and you're genuinely interested to find out what exactly could be motivating these raiders to seek you out after all this time.

Joel blinks at your question and shifts on his feet, leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets. As he repeats their reasoning to you, he speaks in a flat tone and stares at you with a blank expression. "Said you killed half their group after they got too close to the cabin, burnt their bodies in a pile with a warning," 

You stare back at him in silence, processing the information and realising the seriousness of the situation. You're not surprised at their apparent vengeance and retaliation.

"Fair," you respond flatly. 

Joel shifts on his feet again and keeps his gaze on you, his face still blank of expression. He doesn't offer any further elaboration or comment, and you remain silent as well. Tommy seems to notice your lack of further response, so he turns to his brother and asks, "What happened?" Joel simply offers a tired shrug and glances over at you again, seemingly waiting for you to share your own information or perspective. The tension in the room remains.

"You got a problem with me, Joel?" you ask, glaring back at him. It's a bold move on your part, and you don't back down as you stare directly at him and wait for a response, but Joel doesn't seem phased by your demeanour. 

He simply shrugs his shoulders again, his voice remaining calm and flat as he responds, "No." Tommy doesn't intervene and instead watches the interaction play out with a mixture of curiosity and mild concern. 

You gently place your hand over the wound along your side as you turn your gaze to Joel. "Good. I hope you sent them a similar message?" you reply, your tone somewhat playful as you raise an eyebrow at him. You need assurance that Joel gave the raiders a lesson in coming back to the cabin. 

As you question Joel, you feel a sharp twinge of pain as you move your hand across the wound along your side. You draw in a sharp inhale as you try to manage the discomfort, but you manage to maintain your composure as you wait for a response. 

Tommy remains still, studying the interaction between you and his brother as well as your reaction to the brief pain you felt. He appears genuinely concerned, but you ignore the feelings of discomfort and the lingering pain as you wait for Joel to speak. 

Joel stays silent for a moment as you wait for a response, his expression unconcerned. But his eyes betray the worry you know stirs within him, and a flicker of concern passes over his face at your pain. 

He turns his attention back to Tommy, who watches him silently, waiting for whatever response he has to offer. 

"Yeah, they're dead," Joel responds bluntly and with a sigh, his expression remaining cold and unruffled. The flicker of concern that had crossed his face earlier disappears. You're both relieved and a little bit disappointed that he gave such a brief response, as you had hoped for a little bit of elaboration. But you're glad to have your curiosity satisfied and know that the Raiders are no longer a threat. At least that group. 

You sigh and slowly push yourself up from the couch, placing your hands on your knees and feeling a soft twinge of pain as the strain of movement extends and pulls across the wounded area. But before you have the chance to wince or make a noise in response to the pain, Tommy leaps to his feet and rushes to your side, assisting you to your feet. He holds out his arm to support you, and you take it, accepting the assistance while allowing yourself to rest for a moment. You can feel Tommy's warmth as he stands beside you, offering a gentle sense of comfort and reassurance.

"Thanks," you murmur quietly, trying to appear fine despite still feeling weak and unsteady on your feet. Tommy keeps his hands on your back for a moment but soon lets go, and you try to stand with a slight air of independence and confidence, even if you're still feeling a little shaky. Joel remains motionless and emotionless in the doorway, his body relaxed and his expression neutral as he watches your small exchange with Tommy.

"Good." You nod at Joel in response, his intense gaze feeling like it's burning through you. It's almost uncomfortable having him stare at you, but it also feels warm and a good kind of intense. You instinctively look away and avert your gaze.

So familiar.  

"Now, if you don't mind me, I've had a long night of allowing Tommy to beat me in UNO." You force a smile, but Tommy shakes his head in denial, and Joel stares at you for another moment before finally breaking his blank expression. His face lights up with a small smile, and he turns back to his brother, shaking his head and offering a brief chuckle.

"You didn't allow me shit," Tommy snaps, and while Joel's expression remains relaxed, you notice a hint of amusement in his glance towards his brother.

Maria's disapproval of Tommy's language is shouted from the kitchen, and while Tommy offers a sheepish, apologetic glance towards his wife, you find yourself laughing to yourself.    

You roll your eyes and wave Tommy off with a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. I'm going to bed," you huff and walk past the two brothers to the spare bedroom you've been staying in. Before opening your door, you look back to see Joel watching you. You tilt your head at his action, a little surprised at the attention. You're not particularly certain what to make of him, and you feel your chest tighten as the silence lingers between the two of you. 

Weird.

"Night Joel." You nod towards him as you enter your spare bedroom and close the door behind you, the click of the lock echoing as you lock the door for the night. You settle into your bed and turn out the lights, but as you close your eyes and wait for sleep to take you, Joel's gaze is the last thing on your mind. Perhaps he was just being polite, but there was something about his look that seemed to hold a bit of depth or significance behind it. You eventually let out a soft sigh and drift off into an uneasy sleep.

Joel Miller is a fucking enigma.  

Chapter 3

Notes

I have so many ideas on where to lead this story, and I'm so excited to share this with you!

I was hesitant to add that the MC has endo, but it's something I suffer with personally, so I felt comfortable being able to write about it. I don't want to make the character a projection of myself but trust me, it's relevant to the story…

Divider by the beautiful saradika

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou2 #joel tlou #tlou hbo #joel fanfic #joel x you #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x fem!reader #joel x f!reader #tommy miller #tlou tommy

[floralembarrassment]

Do you really want to know? (1/1) (jegulus)

"Explain it to me, Regulus, step by step because us breaking up makes no sense," James says exasperated. He's holding back tears mostly because he is shocked and confused. He needs to understand why Regulus is trying to break up with him because he thought they were really in love--James is really in love.

Regulus looks at him, then looks away and down at his shoes.

"It'll hurt more to lose you to the distance," he whispers still looking at his feet. James remains quiet, waiting, begging for more. Regulus obliges.

"It'll hurt more to grow apart, than it will now...When I have to choice the decide. If-if I do it myself. If I chose to hurt myself now, it'll hurt less than the pain of inevitable loss that I didn't get to decide." Regulus finally looks up at him.

James can see his pain mirrored in the swaying waters of Regulus' stormy grey eyes. He held his breath as Regulus' words continued to pour out of him:

"It doesn't matter how much I want it. Want you. Want more of this, of us " he says as James steps closer and cups Regulus' cheek in his hand. Regulus grabs hold of his wrist and allows himself to lean into James' touch.

He locks their gaze and for what feels like the first time in his entire life, Regulus speaks honestly and crumbles so completely vulnerable: "I don't want to hurt... and I'm too tired to handle any more violence."

That sits between them, hangs in the air, creates a space as if James was knocked several steps back when the depth of that statement shot out of his lungs. When James doesn't speak, doesn't know what to say, he sees Regulus steady himself as he has always had to do, rebuilding his walls up.

Regulus then actually steps back and his eyes once again fall away.

"So I'll pretend that it's a kindness to self inflict the wounds. And make us both feel it now, just for a little while. But that's better instead of always feeling it coming, looming, preparing to swoop down on us."

And Regulus couldn't see because he wasn't looking but James was crying. Silent tears glistening on warm brown skin.

"I'm letting you go now because I can't bear to lose you when you realize you don't want me anymore," and that's the last thing Regulus can say.

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #just regulus black things #regulus being regulus #marauders #james x regulus #fanfic #harry potter #regulus black #james potter #marauders era #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #dead gay wizards #lgbtq+

[flurrin]

I know it's petty to still be disappointed about the Netflix adaptation of Watership Down but it feels like few things sum up my feelings of how far off base it is compared to the 1978 version better than the relevancy of the credit songs. Fire on Fire is a beautiful, stirring, gentle love song, inherently queer and powerful, I love it and listen to it a lot and have it on an OC playlist, it's very dear to me. That said:

Bro... what the fuck ever does any of it have to do with the themes of Watership Down. Kind of the entire point of the book was that they don't fall in love like humans but that doesn't make them a society less capable of protecting and caring for each other. The Netflix adaptation also didn't focus any more on a romance between Hazel and Hyzenthlay (despite giving her a lot more time and things to do, good job!) so the song at best reads as Fiver and Hazel, which is... certainly a direction to take brothers?? I would genuinely get a lot out of that interpretation if the song wasn't explicitly romance-coded. There IS a lot of dread and perseverance through inevitable conflict in it (they say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners / but don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms) and again in regards to Fiver I think it handles his panic attacks really well with the way Hazel understands him and gives him a focus point to calm down. it's a good song, it's just...why does it have to be about a modern day human romance (my mother said I'm too romantic / she said "you're dancing in the movies").

So why is Bright Eyes better for Watership Down? Because one of the major themes of the movie and book are the characters' constant relationship with Death, orbiting it, defying it, accepting it.

Aside from leaning heavily into descriptions of nature and how death reflects in it, there's an emotional element of curiosity as well, which is another big thing for the rabbits in the books--curiosity helps Hazel understand how things literally beyond his understanding, like the concepts of boats and flight and domestication, can save his warren. The scene featuring the song makes it about Fiver's refusal to accept Hazel's death, paired with his insight into the spiritual.

Like my argument here is not "the song should have been about rabbits". That's dumb. I honestly think Fire on Fire is a better song than Bright Eyes just on their own with no context, i love how much the line "fire on fire would normally kill us" communicates and i think Bright Eyes' " following the river of death downstream" spells out the meaning of the song too literally and weakens it. But Fire on Fire still doesn't feel like a Watership Down song. And Bright Eyes will always be THE Watership Down song.

#even the really weird 2000s cartoon that wasn't ALLOWED to show death got it #watership down #media epiphanies #flurr text

[milkywaydrinker]

Speaking as someone who is also SEAsian, I'm disappointed by how... apologetic for racism Amphibia ends up being? Which feels like it's undermining a celebration of Matt's Thai heritage and experiences, since with that inevitably comes a critique of bigotry. Again, season 1 handled it fairly well, with that scene with Maggie...

But then by the end of the show? The Three Armies simplifies the systemic conflict between the species as something they're all guilty of contributing towards, despite there being a clear class divide and hierarchical aspect, which we know was invented by Andrias on a petty whim. Speaking of, Andrias' hand in inventing frog racism is just glossed over, because actually he's just a Sad UWU Boy who needed to be told by Leif that she still loved him! Ignoring Barrel and the treatment of the Toads, of course...

Leif is set up as a hero who saved Amphibia by setting everything in motion, a kind friend who redeems Andrias and created the Plantar bloodline! But her explicit pro-colonizing attitude is left unaddressed and glossed over. She has no issue with colonizing a world full of 'savages' (aka humans), and Matt even clarified in an interview that he found it more 'realistic' because that's 'just how it was back then' (such a phrase is called out as a historical fallacy nowadays meant to excuse past generations).

Leif doesn't steal the box because she has a change of heart and realizes humans don't deserve this; Instead, she only opposes imperialism when she's afraid it may backfire on her own beloved empire. She waxes poetic about the gems' usage disrupting a 'cosmic ecosystem' but then we find out there is no connection between usage of the gems and the moon falling; It's all the Core activating the mechanisms it built into the moon to push it into the planet. In hindsight, you actually have to take the Core's side of the argument, because the Core is actually right and knows what it's talking about, while Leif is making stuff up.

It's not as if we're told that Leif's motives evolved when visiting Earth; All we know is that she came in, dropped off the box, and then returned to Amphibia, and did nothing to talk down Andrias while her and Barrel's people suffered. Nothing to be said about engaging with the local humans and realizing that colonizing them was wrong, too, since again Matt's interview made things even more explicit. It's truly ironic when you realize that Leif's efforts to prevent the moon from falling just cause a long chain of events that result in it falling only because she tried. So all her concern for the ecosystem led to the tides being imbalanced (not that the show addresses that last bit, either).

And then of course... the Maggie cameo. Maggie's racism towards Anne felt like an attack on me personally, too, which was why it really pissed me off when fans elevated her to an explicable favorite. It's not as if her bigotry can be excused as fantasy racism towards all humans in general, or like there's other aspects to her character to explore; She's a one-off who exists only to be blatantly racist and that's it. I felt bad for Matt Braly, but then...

He allowed, if not decided to include Maggie in the penultimate finale??? Have Maggie change her mind on racism while STILL getting Anne's name wrong, and I guess it's meant to be seen as heartwarming because omg the PoC proved their racist wrong by showing they were useful and capable of great things! Which is a tired trope these days. What was even the reason for that, to validate and throw a bone to the racist fans? It'd be one thing if the fandom missed the point, but with all this, it feels like Matt just went back on his own message.

The fact that the protagonists never once bring up the inequalities to Andrias when meeting him, despite it playing such a big role in season 1, makes it come across as if the show suddenly became afraid to call out and discuss systemic racism. So when Andrias is revealed as evil, it's only with the revelation that he wants to invade and blow up other places. Our heroes don't kick themselves realizing they should've seen the red flags long ago with the racist system, because again, the show seems afraid now of discussing it; Instead, it has to treat Andrias' evil as some huge plot twist and not a natural evolution of his at-best apathy towards the hierarchy he allows (which we then find out, he invented).

I didn't like the first episode of season 3, but I DID appreciate the market scene as something I grew up with. But in lieu of all this other stuff I've mentioned, it just feels like a sanitized, defanged celebration of Thai heritage, made to appeal to another demographic, without alienating the white audience by calling them out. By comparison, TOH's villain is not a plausibly-deniable metaphor for colonizers, he is a literal example of the alt-right, and with the show being much more rebellious and willing to call out oppressors, I think that's another reason why TOH didn't 'fit the brand', but Amphibia did. Under Disney, you can celebrate being a minority without ever discussing WHY you're a minority, and even then you can't be too critical of the people who are the reason why (they're stockholders and investors).

I'll give you the floor here. I'm painfully white and my takes on this are pretty basic. I'm mostly going to focus on the worldbuilding side of things.

That being said! I have an unhealthy habit of browsing /co/ from time to time and indulging in some sealioning there. It's juvenile but everyone has some guilty pleasures. That was the only place where I encountered an actual Maggie fandom. Channers loved that character. Way back when the cameo happened I even said that brainrot must have been contagious. People from the crew had to browse those threads. I have no other explanation.

The systemic specieism in Amphibia is lackluster and poorly addressed because it's fundamentally treated as a personal form of bigotry. We know there has to be some form of institutionalized oppression, the tax system for example seems to disproportionately target the poorest demographic (of predominantly frogs) to keep them poor yet the only time Anne opposes it is when the tax is even more unfair due to tax fraud.

We know the toads are directly under the pencil pushing newts from the capital. Their bigotry towards the frogs is fueled by that frustration with their own oppression. Essentially, they get manipulated into directing their anger not at their oppressors but at the even more oppressed social class.

There's a lot that could've been done with that premise, but instead we get a watered down Three Armies "Just Get Over It and Stop Being Mean >:(" and it waters it down even further when we learn it's actually really just a baseless whim of an authoritarian King of an intergalactic colonial empire.

I know an argument could be made that we shouldn't expect a children's cartoon to tackle complex social dynamics. Maybe under different circumstances I would be willing to just roll my eyes and say "Sure" but with a show like The Owl House doing just that I'm not willing to let it slide.

#ask #rant #sorry I don't have that much to add here you pretty much said it all

[atinydroid]

so I was listening to one of my Jason playlists and there's a song I put on there that I always have to listen to several times cause I get SO many feelings about it. I wish I could draw so I could do a cool animatic for it but cause I can't do that I'll just WRITE META ABOUT IT I GUESS

Here's the song. Sorry for the external link tumblr won't let me actually upload the song for some reason.

Breakdown of the song with my thoughts under the cut. (this is very long)

Starting with the chorus

Come paint my face Come take my hand I do not wish you to understand Someday you too Will go to war And by that time may you not fear death any more

Ok so I always listen to this song as if Red Hood Jason is looking at and talking to pre-Robin Jason or like has just been taken in by Bruce Jason. I can only imagine the emotions Jason has thinking about how happy and naive he was pre-Robin. Like yeah he went through a lot of shit with his parents and then living on the street but his stint as Robin and then getting killed by the Joker is just... something else. And "will go to war, and by that time may you not fear death any more." just kinda hits me so hard cause as soon as he put the Robin suit on he was pulled into Batman's war and not long after that death became a very large part of his life very quickly till it culminated with his own.

Fortune may hold you She's not your friend Kind words spoken Bows deepened Foulest creature may wear the sweetest smile Oh do not fear for I will see you in a while

This is obviously about Bruce taking him in and making him Robin. "Being Robin gives me magic!" He was so fortunate that Bruce found him and took him in. But I have to wonder if he regrets it at this point. Like he's died, been resurrected, tried to kill most of his family, gotten better but like is still not Okay(tm). And the fact that it starts off by talking about how good luck can turn and then ends with what is the best descriptor for the Joker that I have ever heard is just Jason poetry honestly.

Eyes upon you Through the years All of your troubles All of your fear Always watching Always see I am you now and you are me

This is just... man if you go back through his Robin run Bruce, Dick (and by extension the Titans) and even Babs were always kinda telling him he wasn't good enough. Bruce by pushing him to be more like Dick and Dick and Babs literally telling him he wasn't good enough to pick up the mantle from Dick. Not to mention all of rich Gotham society judging him for being from the poor side of town. And then later when he gets older and has more of his own opinions and gets more and more violent as Robin because he cares so much about the injustices he sees. Which only leads to Bruce and Dick saying he's too violent and one day he'll end up killing someone. ONLY for that to be followed by the Garzona thing. THIS SONG WAS MADE FOR JASON ISTG

If I should fall You take my sword All that is mine Will be yours Do not fear for those we leave behind The blood that runs in your veins it is mine

And it's like despite everything Robin Jason has been through he knows that what has happened to him to bring him to where he is now is inevitable and it's a cycle he can't change. And maybe sometimes he's not sure he even would given the chance. I'm sure there are moments where he looks at who is right now and how many people he has helped with the way he handles things and knows that Bruce's way doesn't always work and maybe it's good he ended up like this so he can make the hard choices Bruce can't. But he still wishes the young boy he was didn't have to suffer as he did.

I am a stone falling through black water On the bottom I start again I am a stone falling through black water My fall it never ends My fall it never ends

This part man... it feels like he's talking about his relationship with "justice" and how it influences his relationship with his family. Cause he very obviously still considers them all his family but he's stuck in a continuous cycle of wanting to be part of it but also knowing that his way of justice works. Because he knows what life on the poor side of Gotham is like and he KNOWS Batman's way of fighting the injustice that happens down there doesn't work long term. But he also struggles with the fact that sometimes killing someone can start a vicious cycle that leaves kids orphaned, just like him. And so his feelings on the subject are ever fluctuating and he can't help himself falling over and over into cycle of violence no matter how much he wants to get out of it.

SO YEAH I JUST HAVE A LOT OF JASON TODD FEELINGS RIGHT NOW. Sorry that was so long. hopefully it was coherent and made any form of sense. but also omg why did you read this whole thing.

also if anyone wants me to post my Jason playlists (i have 3) lmk and i will

#jason todd #red hood #batfamily #jaybird #dc comics meta #i got really carried away and blacked out halfway through writing this #so i have no idea if there's a cohesive thought in any of these paragraphs #that's my secret cap I'm always thinking about Jason Todd #Spotify

[ajaxdishsoap]

*evil laughter* tswiffle ask game time. lover, the archer, i think he knows, cornelia street, death by a thousand cuts, soon youll get better, you need to calm down, ME!, and daylight for Reiji. i know thats a lot but >:) hehehe… And if u Want… possibly pick and choose those for ranmaru and lisa… 👁 ONLY IF U WANT THO IK THATS A LOT u and reiji give me Life

HOOOOOOO BOY ARE YOU READY. ARE YOU READY FOR HOW INSANE I'M ABT TO BE.

reiji (ft whispers in the dark on cornelia street)

lover: what's your favourite part of the life you've built with your f/o? - the softness the dedication the kindness and consideration for each other that informs every decision, the foundation of the life we've built will always be my favourite part

the archer: has your f/o had a positive or negative relationship with love in the past and how has that affected their relationship with you? - aha. oh the canon pain, so ik this prompt probably meant romantic but! his friendship with aine and what happened has led to some ah, interesting encounters especially given some old tendencies of mine. he'd be almost smothering at some points when i was really depressed because he was worried about me doing something stupid which would often in turn lead to me getting more stressed out and depressed and that's been. a bit difficult to work out

i think he knows: list all of the things about your f/o that make you fall in love with them a little more each time - >:) stupid puns, love for driving, food lover, nice voice<3, intelligent, quick witted, kind, and he's an absolute goofball (tl;dr i love everything about him So Very Much lololol)

cornelia street: do you and your f/o live together? if so what is your domestic life like? if not, what would it be like if you moved in together? - We Very Much Do Live Together. we fell into a rhythm pretty easily due to how sleep schedules fall. most often, ran-ran and i are up first, he goes for a run while i make lunches for him and reiji, and reiji normally wakes up while i'm making breakfast. daily chores tend to fall to whoever has energy after work, and the one who made dinner is banned from doing the dishes that night <3

death by a thousand cuts: how do you and your f/o handle bad times/how are you there for each other when life gets rough? - reiji is really good at seeing when i'm coping in unhealthy ways and redirecting me to better coping mechanisms, he also keeps an eye on me to make sure that i'm not responding to stress by taking on more stress which is a bad habit of mine. i on the other hand help him keep up with everything, make sure he's taking care of himself, and generally make sure he's not keeping track of everything on his own because i know exactly how stressful that is, i also make sure he actually gets down time at home instead of working constantly

soon you'll get better: how do you and your f/o take care of each other when one of you is sick? - haha. i normally get sick from overworking myself! reiji's way of taking care of me in this circumstance is effectively tying me to the bed and not letting me do any work (house or otherwise) until i'm better and then making sure i reduce my workload (i inevitably pick things back up and end up overworking myself again but that's beside the point). when reiji gets sick i can and will wait on him hand and foot, keeping him supplied with food, water, tea, tissues, etc. nothing is too much for my beloved

you need to calm down: do you have any lgbt+ headcanons for your f/o? - oh yes most definitely, he's agender in the sense of "i don't care how i'm perceived it doesn't matter to me and i have no real connection to it one way or the other", and very much bi. i take no criticism on him being bi no one's allowed to criticise me /j

me!: what do you love the most about your f/o? what do they love the most about you? - definitely how smart he is. like, man's brilliant across the board, and i love that. reiji loves my dedication to what i believe in and how recklessly i'll chase after what i want

daylight: how has your relationship with your f/o changed your opinion of love? how has their relationship with you changed their opinion of love? - (i'm not just answering this for romantic love) ah, we've both learned that love can do more than hurt. i, for the longest time, kind of believed that if it wasn't screaming, crying, fights, yelling, and toxic levels of devotion, it wasn't love. that's completely changed. reiji was scared of love, mostly because loving someone means losing them can fuck you up and he's experienced that multiple times, and through his relationship with me he's started to be able to handle that fear and be more open to loving other people

--

ranmaru

lover: what's your favourite part of the life you've built with your f/o? - the fact that we're constantly pushing each other to be better. idk there's just something about the fact that neither of us is willing to let the other settle, leave negative behaviours completely unadressed, or backslide

cornelia street: do you and your f/o live together? if so, what's your domestic life like? if not, what would it be like if you moved in together? - answered with reiji

me!: what do you love most about your f/o? what do they love most about you? - i struggle to point to one thing and say "this is what i love the most" for any of my f/os but especially with ran-ran lol, the closest to holding that title is his kindness or his loyalty. the thing he loves most about me though,,,, hahaha. my willingness to challenge people and call them out when necessary, including him.

--

lisa (my girl!!!)

i think (s)he knows: list all of the things about your f/o that make you fall in love with them a little more each time - her kindness, loyalty, intelligence, dedication, musical ability, baking skill, voice, everything about her is freaking swoon-worthy man

you need to calm down: do you have any lgbt+ headcanons for your f/o? - Indeed I Do, i hc her as asexual homoromantic<3

me!: what do you love most about your f/o? what do they love most about you? - "her entire being" probably isn't a valid answer but that's the answer you get<3. the thing she loves most about me is how caring and protective i am of the people around me

#this was definitely worth the almost three hours it took me #can i go where you go #whispers in the dark #rhythms of the heart: lisa #lucy answers #mutuals<3 #🐍 #ask game

[bad4amficideas]

I low key fangirl when I saw your request are open but can I request

The yandere batfamily plus yandere Bruce rectom to they dealing getin away with the help of there sister Starfire but then they find them later with a different man but but there pregnant and they become the dad for the baby

And the new man just died a mouth ago and there like let go home now and Starfire trying to keep them safe but the boys defeat her

WAIT WAIT WHO IS THE FATHER??? Nonnie, keep talking!!!! A Batfam member or the poor John Doe??

Note: English is not my language, so I hope you will be understanding of any flaws you find.

... Kori doesn't know how to choose her battles but suddenly I respect her enormously.

I guess that if you/Reader are Starfire's sister (even without starbolts) she had to be practically locked up in the Batcave or something for months or maybe a year, first tied up with who knows what, but then they would give her more freedom (inside the cave maybe) for your weakness. Solar Energy and all that stuff. Although in Gotham the sun shines for their absence ... * bad joke *

How would the sisters get away, uhm, I imagine a mix of Kori being very, very patient with Dick, that some advantage has to have to maintain friendships with all her exs, and waiting for her chance (Kori backstory is traumatic, includes rape and a stupid heart kind, but I can see some version of her handling Dick while he thinks he's handling her, and, no, not just the Titans, desperate situations...) and the inevitable moment when another alien invasion falls or the Joker made a mess. Wheel of fortune, what the fuck will happen today in Gotham ??? I'm lying, it's a matter of Kori shaking her hair at her other sister Koma and there they have the alien invasion planted again.

Obviously our poor John dies at their hands, whether or not he's the father of the baby, with no time for anyone to delve into anything. Surely there are tense moments in the batfamily between the parties "you overreacted, we could have ruined his life and made him gone crazy and got him into Arkham" and those of "dog died, rabies is over".

...And poor Reader, carrying the recovery of a long kidnapping, pregnancy, childbirth and a new love that wops, died. And now goodbye sister?? Wow anon dearie, how sadistic, I like you !!!!

Whoever the father of the baby is, now baby is one more weakness for Reader, although if their mother behaves well, the child will be treated like any other batfam member because adopt them all family motto. Most surely even turned and manipulated against their own mother.

Of course the family tracked her darling as soon as she fled and between cameras and then found her and stalked a little, understanding the role of Starfire and what measures would have to be taken against both was a fact that they took well into account before bringing back their darling. Sadly, if they could subdue said darling once, obviously her sister too once again. And, for Dick & Damian, what Kori did is betrayal, so it's not going to be a "nice" defeat.

#yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere batboys x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere dc #yandere red robin x reader #yandere red hood x reader #yandere robin x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere batman #yandere batman x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader #👾.txt #pregnant!reader

[angstyshippergremlin]

Griddlehark Headcanons for a nebulous future where God is dead and Gideon and Harrow are married:

1. Harrow climbs Gideon like a tree to reach high places. The first time it happened, Gideon totally had a moment where she thought Harrow was going to attack, then suddenly this tiny, five foot tall gremlin is just climbing up on her shoulders, snags the jar of honey or something, and walks away, leaving a very flummoxed Gideon behind her.

2. Gideon can't sleep easily without Harrow in her arms. Harrow's relationship with food and sleep got progressively worse the longer she went without Gideon, so she has chronic insomnia. But because she loves Gideon, she goes to bed with her, if only so her cherished cavalier can rest. And maybe, just maybe, it helps her sleep, too, knowing Gideon is close.

3. They both have nightmares, and it takes years for them to get to a point where either of them can discuss said nightmares without breaking down. These days, they wrap around each other. Harrow's lowkey clingy after bad ones, and Gideon tends to get stressed when Harrow isn't in her line of sight for too long.

4. Harrow reads in bed. It's the only viable solution for her insomnia and Gideon's anxiety. Gideon curls around Harrow, and once she's asleep, Harrow carefully frees herself, but stays close, using some necromancy to make a bone glow just enough to let her read. If Gideon stirs, she lays off reading long enough to sink into Gideon's arms again, murmuring, "I'm here," until she calms.

5. Harrow cannot eat large meals. If she gets too full, she'll just hurl it all up again. It's worse after particularly big feats of necromancy. Seriously, there are days when she's too nauseous to eat. It frankly worries Gideon, but watching Harrow hurl her guts up once was enough to make sure she doesn't press too hard. It doesn't stop her from making sure her gremlin wife stays hydrated, though. And plus, a lethargic Harrow is a cuddly Harrow. It means Gideon can arrange her cranky bone nun wife in her lap and know she'll probably stay there...until she feels better, anyway.

6. Eventually, they end up either adopting a child or through some form of hand wave-y shenanigans, they have a child that is biologically theirs. Gideon carries if that's the case, since I'm guessing Harrow is too biologically messed up to carry a kid to term without major dangers to her and the baby. The little girl that comes into their world has Harrow's eyes and Gideon's hair, and both her moms love her so, so much. Harrow is inevitably the disciplinarian, but the punishments almost never go beyond the standard lecture consisting of "what were you thinking, you could have been hurt, are you okay?" Because Harrow knows what the Ninth did to Gideon was wrong, and that her childhood was also messed up, and damned if she'll do that to her baby.

7. And this kid is so smart, with Gideon's smile and Harrow's ability to focus. She's slender, but toned, because no way is Gideon letting her daughter become noodle armed. And she has no gift for necromancy, but is absolutely deadly with knives. Neither Gideon or Harrow can quite handle seeing their kid with a rapier, because bad memories, so they had to find her another weapon.

8. Or course Aunt Cam teaches her how to fight. No question about it. This child blends Harrow's brains and Gideon's fighting skills, and is a fucking force of nature. Gideon knows that this child combines the best parts of both of them.

9. They also find that she can also embody the worst of them. She got double helpings of intensity. Which is good, but also kind of bad. Like, when she falls in love, she falls hard. Some asshole inevitably breaks her heart, which sends her into a very bad spiral. If we're talking a scale of Gideon's homewrecker guilt to Harrow lobotomizing herself, we're saying dangerously close to Harrow's side of the spectrum. It scares the hell out of both her mom's, and the kicker is that Ianthe of all people is the one to snap her out of it. No one mentions the fact that the ex disappeared and is never heard from again.

#gtn #htn #the locked tomb #gideon the 9th #harrow the 9th #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #ianthe tridentarius #camilla hect #griddlehark #i'm going crazy

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: chūya nakahara x lazy male reader

req: yes | wc: 1.87k | cw: nsfw, size difference, praise kink, biting, blood, dirty talk, belly bulging | minors dni

anon: Hi! I was hoping I could get a smut for chuuya if you could make it kinda of a part two from the other chuuya fic u have and if u can could u add a size kink and a praise kink if so thank you so much!

a/n: you thought the demon was a himbo, ha!

"You know these don't tend to last long." You send the man pushing you against the wall a wink, making sure he knows you're still top. Chūya chuckles in response.

"I'm prepared for that." Chūya gives you a smirk. You don't know it, but he doesn't mean it. He hopes it is only your sheer amount of power that attracts him to you, but he knows it's not true. He really isn't that keen on having this be a one time thing. He rather it be a long, loving relationship, keep it lasting for as long as he can; if he has to teach you commitment, he will.

You raise an eyebrow for a minute, judging his composure. "Mkay.. good. You need me to lift you, though? You're quite a way down."

Chūya huffs and rolls his eyes. With you, he's heard something along those lines about a million times. He can't control his height and he certainly can't control yours. Jeez, it's as if you were a giant. If you and him stood next to each other, he'd look like a child, not that he was that much taller than a child anyway.

"Oh shut up with that… but yes." As much as he didn't want to admit it, even though it was very clear, he couldn't kiss you from 'all the way down there'.

"Thought so." It's the shit eating grin on your face that makes him regret this. "Hold on to the horns will ya? You'll need the support."

"Doesn't bother ya?" Chūya asks, doing so anyway. They feel rather tough, like how he imagined crocodile scales to feel. Your wings, on the other hand, weren't as he'd imagined them to be. They felt like leather, despite the fact they looked like rubber. He couldn't fathom how hot they'd be in summer.

You shake your head, in turn moving his arms. "Nah. Anyway, what do you think about the fangs?" You momentarily open your mouth wider to show him. "Would you rather I don't bite you or I do?" They're not as sharp as say, a vampire or a werewolf, but they could definitely puncture.

"Maybe test them first?" You know, what he meant was that you bite his finger, or something, not his neck. It definitely stung, but it hadn't punctured. He was sure if you hadn't controlled your strength, he'd bleed. He hissed at the pain. Though it was nothing he couldn't handle, you'd taken him by surprise.

"My bad, precious." That was a new nickname. "What do you think? Did you like it? No judge if you're into it." The mention of a biting link made him think of some past lover with said kink. It sort of made him jealous.

"What if I find your sweet spot? Would that persuade you?" You bite his neck, finding the spot that made him moan. "Knew it. They're usually there." He hated the way you rubbed your past lovers in his face. In time, he'd make you forget. He was sure of that.

"Well?"

"Okay.."

"Would you look at that?" Chūya couldn't focus on anything right now, the pleasure, and pain, was too much. You would pester him for how long he took to adjust for sure. "I'm balls deep in you and I can actually see it." He hadn't registered that first part until now.

He looked down to see his stomach clearly bulging. He laughed at the sight of it. You were really a giant, in more ways than one. It was kind of.. hot though. The size difference was already turning him on, at this point it was a lot.

"Sexy." You remark, licking your lips. If it weren't for your dick, he would want that tongue in him.. again. "Can you even talk right now?"

Chūya chuckles, fixing you with a playful look before pulling you down by the horns. "Of course I can." He whispers in your ear.

"Good." You move the slightest bit, though to him it felt more than that, which urges a moan from his throat. "Although I'd like to see you try when I fuck you with no mercy."

Chūya is flustered to no end, but as the competitive guy he is, he can't just back down, even with your dick inside of him. "Is that what you say to everybody? 'Fuck you with no mercy'? How about 'fuck you 'till you're begging for hell?'"

You smirk, shaking your head to mess with his arms. His hands were surely indented with the pattern of your horns by now. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Are you ready now?" You were going to nag him about the time, just like he'd predicted. "You've been sitting on it for so long you could call it cockwarming. But maybe you're into that, haven't discussed the deets just yet."

"What can I do?" You laugh. "Your dick is big, you said so yourself."

"Then the details. What do you like?"

"P-Praise." He's a little nervous to admit it, what with the fact he acts like a tough cookie. He had to build up some courage for this moment.

You shift a bit as you think about it. All of a sudden, you start moving slowly. It's still quite a bit painful for Chūya, but your praise makes up for it. "You're doing good, baby." Your rough voice along with the way you grip his hips with your claws sends chills down his spine. "Just a bit more."

You chuckle, toying with the idea in your mind. You thrust a bit more, barely even containing yourself with how horny you are, before stopping to ask. "Like that?"

He had bitten his lips to keep his moans from coming out; he'd nearly drawn blood "Yeah, yeah, just like that." If his eyes weren't shut so tightly he'd be so much more flustered by the look you're giving him.

"Think you're ready yet?" The impatience was clear in your voice.

"Mm, yeah."

Your thrusts are slow at first, as a precaution. It was a wonder how you hadn't started going fast, though. You'd been in him for so long without moving that the impatience and anticipation were building up.

"You can go faster now." You smile, but you don't speed up, which confuses him. He was sure you wanted more, so why didn't you give him more?

"How much faster?" It's only now that he realizes it's a cheeky grin. 

Your sultry eyes seem to enchant him, making him unable to think properly; well, that and the thrusting. "I don't know."

"My terms, then." He doesn't like the sound of that. Luckily, you catch onto his uneasy look in time to reassure him, but your words don't do much. "Don't worry, you'll be just fine."

There's no warning after that. Your thrusts are quick and hard, just how you like them though only a little less than normal. After all, you'd gotten from, say, a 1 to a 7. Since when did you start calling your thrusts like a vibrator?

"You're doing good, baby!" He didn't know why, he did but he didn't know now, but he thought you'd sound more sarcastic.

His grip on your horns loosen and his arms feel weak. Just how vulnerable did you make him feel? He couldn't hold back from letting out a loud, high-pitched moan. It caused you to laugh, which he hated since he knew you were about to tease him. "High-pitched, just for me?"

He rolled his eyes at you, maybe a little bit because of pleasure, responding just as quick. "I mean you– oh! Holy shit!" He was interrupted by his own moans.

"What was that you were going to say?"

"Straying from– ah shit! Shit shit shit!" He repeated. That chuckle of yours made him realize you'd been hitting him hard on purpose to tease him. "Straying far from," He stops himself from moaning by biting his lips momentarily. "p-praise here."

You almost pout when he finishes his sentence, but you nod. "Right, sorry, precious~" You basically purr. “You’re taking my cock so well. Are you ready for more?”

“What?” You’d only just changed pace, so why would you- “Ah! Fuck me..” You hadn’t even given him time to answer, and you didn’t mean to either. This pace was the fastest, and roughest, Chūya had ever felt before, and god, did he love it. He could barely even form words, apart from curse words that were oh so familiar. The only thing that left his mouth were moans and he couldn’t even bite his lips.

“Mm, can’t talk anymore?” You weren’t really good at praise, were you? Well, it was new to you, since most of your lovers turned masochists at the sight of you. You didn’t make them, they just did. smug hoe

His arms, tired and a little sore, fall from your horns and grip your wings, which are wrapped around him. It causes you to hiss, but it’s a mere feeling in the back of your head from all the pleasure you’re getting. “Careful with those, darl.” You say with a chuckle. “You can’t break them in your state right now, but they still hurt.”

“S-Sorry.” He manages to say, continuing with moans afterward. They’re high pitched, most of them, as much as he tries to at least make them a little lower. 

“Oh? A word?” Your smirk is as much a nightmare as it is a dream. He wants to punch it off your face but also kiss it off your lips. “Right, right, praise. You take me in so well~” Chūya just barely manages a laugh.

“Ah, fuck!” Chūya shouts. He can feel himself getting closer and closer.

You smirk, moving to his neck, kissing and nipping. Your fangs sting his neck everytime you bite down, but you make sure to control yourself. Though sooner or later you’ll bite him and draw blood, it’s only inevitable.

“Go on, baby. Come loose for me, let me feel your seed on my abs.” You move to his ear, whispering and licking the lobe. 

Your words are what sends him over the edge of bliss. His seed spills all over the both of you, which is a turn on for sure; it moves with his constantly bulging belly. 

You close your eyes when you feel yourself coming closer. Instinctively, you move to his neck, giving him a harsh bite, which makes Chūya groan. You couldn’t control yourself from not biting him, even when his neck is already littered with other marks. Blood drips from the wound, two small holes.

It’s only when you go over the edge that you apologize. You move off of him, pulling him on top of you instead. He snuggles into your body, hissing in pain. “Sorry.” You move your wings to wipe the blood away.

“It’s fine… well, not really, but eh.”

You chuckle, keeping one wing on the wound and the other over the top of you. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

The promise of another time is reassuring, whether it be sexual or not, though he rather it be a date. He likes to know he has a little bit of a chance.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x male reader #chuuya nakahara x male reader #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd smut #anonymousrequest #⚠️nsfw🙈

[luc606]

An Autumn Morning

(by @luc606) Saeyoung feels like he doesn't deserve the life he's built, so you pull him out of it with warm fall drinks and some light yard work.

Saeyoung x MC (MC is referred to as "you" but never by name) 1649 words, FLUFF, a little sadness but not enough to call it angst, just domestic Saeyoung with domestic brother-in-law (to be) Saeran, takes place like a year after SE, roughly based on this ask

also technically goes for mystictober day one: favorite character

Saeyoung was not accustomed to paying attention to the changing seasons.

Before, there were only days, months, and years that were spent mostly in the bunker, the time passing carefully, but not precisely measured, like sand through an hourglass. Saeyoung was used to that kind of life, and once he met you, he had found new insecurity in how well that kind of life had seemed to fit him. Now that he was with you, finding his way into a normal life little by little, there were days where it was all he could do not to retreat back into his dark office and wait for you to inevitably get tired of acclimating him to being average.

Today was one of those days.

He’d woken up before the sun, though he could only tell this by the time programmed sun lamp you had asked him to build. He’d installed them all over the bunker, and it only somewhat made up for the complete lack of windows.

Inexplicably, you’d made the bunker almost cozy. Especially now, as summer turned to fall, you’d gently folded throw blankets over the back of the couch and bought seasonal candles for the kitchen and living room.

On days like this, these touches made Saeyoung’s heart ache. Couldn’t you see that this wasn’t right for you? His love deserved a sweet suburban house or a cheerful cottage with a bay window in the dining room, not a windowless bulletproof box that had once been home to daily illegal activity.

You stir next to him in bed.

“Saeyoung?”

On days like this, he doesn’t think he deserves that name.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says, rolling over to face you. To make himself face you.

“You didn’t,” you say. And then after a pause, “Are you okay?”

Saeyoung knows that he should tell the truth, tell you that he’s having one of those days where he feels like he doesn’t belong in your light. He doesn’t want to, he wants to lie and say everything is okay.

He says nothing, but his hesitation is enough for you. You’ve spent three years with the man now, you know how to tell when he’s feeling this way.

“Baby,” you say, pulling him into you. “Go back to sleep.”

Despite himself, he does.

In the morning, when the sun emulating lamp has begun to turn subdued shades of orange and pink, he finds that he is alone in the bed. You’d let him sleep in, which he almost never does. He lays for a moment, feeling foggy, but soon the door opens to reveal you in your robe with two cups of coffee. He almost smiles, smelling the pumpkin spice creamer you’ve sweetened the coffees with.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a careful smile, handing him his sweet seasonal drink.

The coffee is in a set of matching mugs that had been an engagement gift from Jaehee. His is red and yours is pink, and there’s a curve in both of them that forms a heart when they’re placed together. He loves that you go out of your way to use these mugs more than any others you own.

Saeyoung takes the coffee from you and takes a sip, it’s warm and almost too sweet. He knows you put just a bit more sugar in his coffee because he likes it better that way, even if he should learn to drink it more plain.

“I hope you slept well,” you take a seat next to him on the bed. “We have some yard work to do.”

“Yard work?” he asks, his surprise coming out as a laugh.

Before, the land surrounding the bunker was unruly. The trees and tall grass camoflauged the entrance, so he’d never felt the need to trim the grass or leaves. Now, though, the yard – he had a yard now – was fully under the jurisdiction of his brother. At the recommendation of his therapist, Saeran had begun the project shortly after you’d moved in as a way to redirect anxious energy. He’d planted flowers and shrubs all around the bunker and had laid a garden path around the front leading around to a small herb and vegetable garden in the back. It was Saeran’s pride and joy, and Saeyoung had stayed mostly out of it. He’d only mowed the lawn once, and even then Saeran had complained about the lines he’d made with the mower not being straight.

“It’s fall,” you say, emphasizing this by raising your mug of pumpkin spice flavored coffee. “The yard is covered in leaves, so you should rake them.”

“Isn’t that Saeran’s job?” Saeyoung asks, incredulous. “I mean he never lets me do anything in the yard, I really shouldn’t–”

You cut him off, “I told him you’d do it for him, I’ll help.”

Saeyoung knows what you’re doing here, you’ve done it before. When he gets down, you’ve found that keeping him busy and out of his thoughts helps him overcome the feeling faster. But yard work? This was a new low.

“It’ll be fun!” you add, taking his silence as dissent.

Saeyoung sighs, but nods. Success.

You and Saeyoung finish your coffees in relative silence, you sit perched in your robe reading something off your phone while your fiancé shivers against the cool morning air, bundled in your large comforter as if it’s a shawl. When he finally finishes his coffee (you suspect he’s sipping extra slowly, putting off getting out of bed) you take the mug from him and tell him to get dressed. He makes no move to get up, but he’s miraculously clothed when you return from the kitchen.

He looks good, it’s not often that your nerdy Saeyoung looks like this – rugged, a little messy. He’s wearing jeans and an old red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He’s pushed his hair back, as he’s accustomed to wearing it now, but without any product, a few of his curls are stuck up in the air while a few fall back onto his forehead.

You kiss his cheek gently as you slip past him towards the closet and he offers a small smile.

“Give me just a second and I’ll be ready,” you say, already slipping off your robe in the closet entrance.

Saeyoung pretends he isn’t looking as you change into a pair of jeans.

“Can I wear this?” you ask, holding up a long-sleeve red t-shirt of Saeyoung’s that he normally wears to work out or clean.

“I’m surprised you’re asking,” he jokes.

You do usually steal his clothes without permission, he doesn’t ever mind.

You shrug. “You’re right there, I’m just being polite.”

He laughs, and his face turns just a bit pink.

Once you’re dressed, you take Saeyoung’s hand and pull him out the door, through the living room, and all the way out to the small garden shed he’d built for Saeran as a gift on the twins’ last birthday.

From the shed, in which Saeran has lined up every tool neatly on pegs along one wall, Saeyoung retrieves the rake.

“How are you supposed to help if there’s only one rake?” he asks you.

You laugh, “I’m here for moral and emotional support, of course.”

Saeyoung, feeling lighter already, whips the end of the rake towards you and gently taps your backside with the handle.

“Lazy~”

“Hey!” You laugh, lunging towards him and catching the rake in your hands and pulling your fiancé towards you with it. “Saeyoung!”

Saeyoung laughs easily, and you can feel the waves of his bad mood melting off. His moments of sadness, depression from a life’s worth of grief and anxiety pushed away for years, are fewer and further between now. He’s seen a therapist a few times, a colleague that Saeran’s therapist recommended, but most of his healing was done by seeing his brother survive and learn to thrive outside of the harsh conditions of their childhood and his time spent in Rika’s misguided care.

“And it’s not that much,” you say, “I’ll put all the leaves in Saeran’s mulch pile while you’re raking and we’ll be done in no time.”

You pull the rake towards yourself again, this time catching Saeyoung’s hip to steady him while bringing him in close.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask, voice low. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

Saeyoung startles, like he didn’t expect you to acknowledge out loud that he was feeling any kind of way at all, but quickly recovers before saying, “Yes, actually.”

He smiles as you pull him down into a gentle kiss, you feel him fail to keep the smile off his face as he kisses you back. His face is warm from the last little bit of summer sun that’s pouring down on you both.

“I love you,” you say, finally pulling away.

His eyes are intense as he pulls back to look at you.

“I love you too.”

☆

Later, after the fallen leaves have been relocated to Saeran’s compost and are no longer threatening to ruin the lawn, Saeran thanks his brother for raking the yard, not with words, but with a warm cup of hot chocolate and a soft grin.

Saeyoung’s heart soars when he sees that Saeran has made a cup for you, too. He thinks he’ll never get tired of seeing his two favorite people continue to love and accept one another as family. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

He finds himself in a completely different state now than when he had awoken this morning. He settles into the couch next to you, able to appreciate the cozy autumn decor that you’ve adorned the bunker with. He no longer feels like this place is stifling you, he understands that you’re grateful for the security the home provides you, and he feels grateful too.

#saeyoung x mc #saeyoung choi #mysme 707 #mm 707 #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung headcanons #saeyoung angst #mystic messenger saeyoung #707 x mc #secret ending #luc606 #tagging #mystictober2021 #bc saeyoung is my fave ❤️

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of ​​emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

#spencer reid x y/n #dr. spencer reid #spencer x derek #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #jason gideon #david rossi #mgg x reader #mgg fluff #mgg x you #mgg imagine #mgg #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader

[chatonne-rousse]

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

#domestic fluff #dadrien #mominette #hugo loves turtles #and carapace #and uncle nino loves it #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #future fic #family fluff #thanks for the idea sketchy! #gift fic #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml #miraculous ladybug #my writing

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 7

Word Count: 3,437

Colson continued to be sick as the night dragged on. Dr Lander had warned of the side effects and advised Colson to keep hydrated. Tired of rushing him to the bathroom, Y/N called room service and requested a bucket filled it with sand and put it at Colson's side of the bed; in case he had another bout of nausea-which he did, for most of the night.

"I'm so sorry baby..sorry for putting you through this," Colson mumbled repeatedly.

"I got you babe. Don't worry... I'm here okay?" she cooed soothingly.

Y/N patiently wiped his face or mouth whenever he dribbled and held up the bucket for him when needed. She constantly made trips to the bathroom to wash the towel; to wipe the sweat off to keep his body cool. Colson was delirious until his fever broke, which was the point they finally got to rest.

Colson's phone kept buzzing on the night-stand until Y/N reached over and answered it; because she couldn't take it anymore. "Hello," she said groggily.

"Good afternoon Y/N," Byron said, "Any chance I can talk to your husband?"

"Hmmm.." Y/N groaned, "No can do By."

"Why? He still asleep or..? It's way after lunch-"

"Rather you come over and see for yourself," she croaked in her sleep deprived voice.

"Is everything okay?" Byron started to panic.

"See you soon By. I need to go back to sleep now so-bye," she hung up and went to the bathroom. Then called room service and ordered breakfast for herself since Colson was still knocked out.

Colson was still sound asleep so she tiptoed around as she cleaned up the bedroom. She flung the windows open and the fresh air that invaded the room was a welcome intrusion. The curtains she kept closed so as not to wake him. Colson's phone rang again and she rolled her eyes before answering.

"Hi Mrs Baker! How are you this fine afternoon?" Jax said with enthusiasm.

"Jax," Y/N groaned.

"Everything okay there? Anything I should know?" he inquired.

"Just get here and you will find the answer to all your questions," she sighed as she cut the call.

"Hey-is Colson around?" Slim asked.

"Hey Slim. Yes but he's still asleep," Y/N said for the umpteenth time.

"We have a sound check at four so was wondering-"

"It's not going to happen," she said flatly.

"I'm coming over," Slim saved her the trouble of hanging up.

The phone wouldn't stop ringing. She was almost tempted to switch it off.

"Hi Mrs Baker this is Dr Lander..from last night at the hospital?"

"Oh hi Doc," Y/N said, "I'm going to get the driver to bring you tickets right away. Take care."

A few minutes later she heard a loud knock on the door; when the door swung open Slim, Jax and Byron were waiting outside. Y/N glanced at them and grunted a greeting before walking back into the bedroom. She had thrown on decent PJs and tied her hair in a messy bun. They trailed behind her quietly and stood at the door waiting for her to allow them to get in.

"Colson is sick," she stated in a flat tone, "I took him to the hospital last night but he seemed better and then he got worse. Fever, nausea-all of it," she leaned against the headboard and rubbed her forehead.

"Why didn't you call us?" Slim asked.

"He insisted that you all needed a day off and he was against the idea of calling any of you," she dug her hands into her luscious long hair as she pushed it back. Slim stared openly and shook himself before anyone else noticed.

"Let's not have this discussion here, we might wake him up. He needs his rest and so does Y/N," Byron led them back into the living room.

"So today is the last day of the tour and Colson seems out of it," Byron rubbed his chin worriedly.

"What do we do?" Jax asked as he sat down.

"We can improvise.." Slim suggested.

"How?" Byron asked in a low voice.

"We can give him a little pick me up.." Slim smiled slyly "it works like a charm.."

"No!" Jax said adamantly as he rose to his feet.

"Look-it's the last concert guys c'mon. We can't be refunding fans that got tickets already. Need I remind you it was a sell out show?" Slim whispered defensively, "Besides everyone in showbiz does it."

"What you're proposing will do more harm than good," Jax whispered fiercely.

"Guys let's take five shall we? Deep breaths everyone.." Byron raised his hands, "That's it.."

"Don't tell me you're in agreement with him??" Jax turned to Byron, shock registering on his face.

"Well..I.." Byron looked around in discomfit.

"You can't-" Jax looked distraught.

"I don't really need anyone's permission besides Col's. So I'm going to ask him what he thinks when he wakes up," Slim challenged.

"Why would you want to put him through that again? He's been clean and it should stay that way...Don't do it Slim," Jax glared at Slim, "Just because you're beyond redemption doesn't mean you should take Colson down with you."

"Well, we will have to see about that the, won't we?" Slim sneered and walked out of the hotel room. It was time to put his plans in motion..with a little help from unsuspecting friends of course.

"Hey Slim," Ashleigh opened the door and let him in.

"Hey Ash, listen..I think you need to take Y/N out of the house or something. She seems like she could use a friend right now you know?" Slim said with concern.

"Oh..is she okay?" Ashleigh asked as she sat on the couch opposite Slim.

"I think you should just go over and suggest lunch or shopping or whatever it is you girls do to de-stress," Slim shrugged as he leaned forward.

"Okay, I will do that..maybe Sommer can join us?" she said brightly.

"Yeah, that would be great. It will give the boys a chance to bond," Slim stood up and made to leave, "I'll go and tell Sommer to get ready, so long."

"She can just come over to Y/N's once she's done," Ashleigh said as she walked him to the door.

"Thanks Ash, you're a great friend," Slim said as a parting shot. He smiled to himself as he walked back to his hotel room. All the pieces were falling in place. He would get his revenge before he left and he wasn't going out without a fight. Colson would pay.

*********************************************

"Hey Byron..have you sorted out the venue for the after party? The Banquet Manager just sent me a text that there was a mix up with the booking," Jax looked at his phone and frowned.

"What? I thought she had sorted out the issue with the double booking??" Byron stood up and raked his hand through his hair in frustration, "this is just what I need! I need to get this thing sorted before Colson finds out," Byron grabbed his coat, "please make sure he's on time for the sound check," he said before he rushed out,

"Checkmate," Jax grinned as he made his way to Colson's bedroom. He knocked softly and Y/N's melodic voice told him to come in.

"Hey Y/N-we need to get Colson out of here. I'll explain later," he hurried over and effortlessly lifted Colson over his shoulder, "please get dressed quickly."

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" Y/N furrowed her brows as she threw the covers aside and grabbed her shoes.

"That's what I'm trying to do-make sure everything is okay..including Colson," Jax made for the door, "Let's go-hurry please!" he implored.

Jax hoped that they didn't bump into anyone as they escaped from the hotel room. There was no way he would allow them to manipulate Colson-they would have to kill him first. Jax had vowed to Colson's father to protect him at all costs and he would; no matter what the cost. He would deal with Byron and Slim later. He was actually disappointed in Byron, he didn't expect him to go along with Slim's pea-brained scheme. Clearly Byron was all about the dollar signs and didn't care about Colson's well-being.

"Please open the door for me?" Jax asked when they got to the car.

"Sure-sorry let me get it," Y/N ran forward; opened the back seat of the SUV and then jumped in from the other side. She cradled his head an her lap and he began to stir. Colson's eyes fluttered open and then he fell asleep again, oblivious to what was going on around him.

"So we're going to hideout at a guest house close to Genval Lake until this whole thing blows over okay?" Jax drove away quickly but cautiously.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Y/N pursed her lips in a grim line as she stroked Colson's soft platinum hair.

"I will but you're not going to like it..just promise me you won't confront anybody?" Jax stared at her through the rear-view mirror, "promise."

"Fine," she sighed.

Jax filled her in on the whole debacle and Y/N went from shocked to super-pissed. Jax had to tell her again that confronting the perpetrators was not an option. She argued with him until she was red in the face but Jax was adamant.

"Let me handle this," he insisted; then "please?" in a gentle voice.

It was inevitable that Colson would wake up because of the heated discussion that was taking place, while he was half-asleep.

"Stop the car!" Colson shouted as he scrambled to sit up.

Jax didn't hesitate he slammed on the breaks by reflex. Colson threw open the door and barely made it out. He spewed his guts as soon as his knees hit the ground. Y/N grabbed a box of Kleenex and a bottle of water then went after him. Jax was crouched close by rubbing his back with a concerned look on his face.

"I'm sorry sweets. I know you didn't sign up for this," Colson croaked as Y/N dabbed his mouth and wiped the sweat of his face.

"I said I do didn't I?" Y/N jabbed at a joke.

"Guess you did," he gave a lopsided grin and drained the water from the water bottle.

"I feel like a third wheeler," Jax grumbled as he stood and dusted his jeans.

"Nothing new," Colson muttered and Jax punched his shoulder playfully.

"You're ready to go?" Jax asked.

"Yeah..just give me a minute," Colson leaned on the car as another wave of nausea seized him.

"I've got your meds in the car. Should I get them? They kind of helped last night.." Y/N suggested.

"Baby, I can't tell you how sorry I am.." Colson said dejectedly; his face filled with shame and remorse. He pulled her into his arms and leaned his forehead against hers.

"There's no need to apologize..I know you would do the same thing for me," she kissed his forehead then pulled his hand, "Let's get out of here."

"Are you good to go?" Jax started the car.

"Yeah," Colson replied, "what were you two arguing about earlier on? The truth please?" Colson put emphasis as he held Y/N's hand.

"Well..if you really want to know.." Jax sighed deeply; his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"I do," Colson stated firmly.

Jax told him about the discussion that went on while he was in oblivion and didn't leave anything out. Colson clenched his jaw and didn't say anything until Jax was done talking. They even arrived at the house but Colson remained in the car and told them to go ahead without him, he would follow.

The house was a beautiful cosy villa consisting of an entrance hall, a bright living room with a wood stove and beautiful bay window overlooking the lake, a fully equipped kitchen with a breakfast corner, the floors had a sumptuous studio and its adjoining terrace. It had four large bedrooms, including a master room with a dressing room, two large bathrooms with bath and shower. A haven of peace, in a quiet close with outdoor parking included.

Y/N went straight to the shower and afterwards proceeded to make brunch but Colson had beat her to it. He was busy cooking up a storm with the help of Jax. She stood at the door and just observed for a while before they noticed her.

"We're almost done here. Maybe you can help set the table on the terrace or the garden? You can choose," Colson turned back to the stove and busied himself again.

"He'll be fine. Don't worry okay?" Jax startled her and intruded her thoughts. He set the steaming, delicious food on the garden table, then put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah..of course," she gave him a stiff smile and proceeded with him back to the kitchen.

"I think we're all set. I'll take the coffee outside and you kids can bring the toast once it's done," Jax said.

"Have you taken your meds?" Y/N asked Colson as she leaned on the counter.

"Yes mum," he teased, "stop worrying okay?" he kissed her on the cheek and smiled, "can we go and eat now? I'm staving!" he tugged Y/N's hand and pulled her back outside.

They made small talk as they ate and Y/N noticed that Colson seemed to be in a better mood. Either that or he was a very good actor..come to think of it-he was. He even had an Oscar to prove it..

*********************************************

"Sweets-please stop worrying! I'll be fine okay," Colson reassured his wife for the umpteenth time, "beside you will be right with me on the stage-isn't that enough?" he chuckled and cupped her face. She tried to focus on his hypnotic blue eyes instead of his enticing well-toned body. He had just stepped out of the shower with a towel loosely tied around his waist; smelling so fresh and looking too sexy. His golden locks were still dripping with water that slid slowly down his neck and coursed down his chest. She had never been so turned on by him as she was at this moment. He could literally make her do anything right now and she would be more than willing to oblige.

"Alright, alright," she said weakly when she remembered that they were supposed to be having an argument, "but if I feel that you are straining yourself then I will be forced to do something about it," she was bit her bottom lip.

"Gees sweets! You're beginning to sound like a typical nagging wife!" Colson laughed and she broke out of his embrace. Y/N couldn't get over his laugh. He looked so young and carefree. His beautiful features really stood out whenever he was happy; which was very rare.

"Cut it out Baker," she swatted his arm and folded her arms.

"I'm just teasing Bambi," he pulled her closer and kissed her softly. Unable to resist him as usual, her lips melted into his and they became one. The kiss ignited something in them and it went from being a mere spark to an uncontrollable inferno. Without breaking contact, Colson lifted her and gently placed her on the bed. Her hands were deeply buried in his hair; his hands were tracing every contour of her body. Their bodies fit perfectly together and they were lost in each other. Caught up in a world of their own where only two of them existed and their need for each other was the main purpose of their existence.

"I need you Y/N," Colson whispered as he pleaded with his intense arctic eyes that bored into her very soul. She could see the need in them and she needed him almost as much as he needed her. He turned up the music on the iPod when she silently gave her consent with a silent nod. He was sure that things were about to get a bit loud and more heated.

He was bound to lose control once he got a taste of her because he had wanted her from the moment he laid his eyes on her. She pulled him back to possess not only her lips but her mind, her body and her heart.

𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆 

𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 

𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 

𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 

𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 

𝑾𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 

𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 

𝑰'𝒎 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖  

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

(Credit: Devil Within by Digital Daggers)

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

Jax checked his watch and noticed that Colson would be late if they didn't leave soon. There was no sign of either him or Y/N and by the sound of the extremely loud baby-making music streaming downstairs from their bedroom; he knew they were definitely not playing Karaoke.

Jax sighed as he made his way upstairs. He didn't want to disturb them but he had to. Nonetheless he still felt bad. He raised his hand and pounded on the door and got no response until the third knock. The music was turned down considerably and Jax could hear movement.

"Go away Jax! We're almost ready," Colson called out.

"Don't let me come back again," Jax called, "you have exactly one hour to get ready," he said before turning to leave.

"I wish we didn't have to go," Colson groaned as he brushed his lips on Y/N's neck.

"The show must go on Baker," she pulled the covers over her exposed body and sat up.

"Do you regret it?" Colson asked as he furrowed his brows.

"Never," she said with pure conviction.

"Neither do I," his face broke into a smile, "I just wish I could do you all day.."his skilled hands started to rove again.

"Colson.." Y/N gasped as his lips found her weak spot.

"I love it when you say my name like that..it makes me want to take you over and over again.." he trailed her body with feather-light kisses and once again she was at his mercy.

Jax checked his watch again and shook his head. It's a good thing he told them they had exactly an hour to get ready instead on two hours. He knew they would disregard his warning. He stood outside the door and pounded on it once again. The door flew open and Colson stood there fully dressed but cussing him with his arctic orbs.

"That scowl on your face tells me that you're happy to see me," Jax grinned, "it's a good thing you're ready though..where is that dangerously gorgeous wife of yours?" he peered over Colson's shoulder.

"She's almost done," his face softened, "can we go and talk downstairs?"

"So what's on your mind?" Jax sank onto a nearby couch and stretched out his long legs.

"Did you make doubly sure that security will keep Slim out? I don't want him anywhere near the stadium," Colson stressed.

"Yeah I did. We got everything covered. It's under control okay?" Jax reassured him, "if you can step outside, you will see that we have beefed up the security around you as well."

"Good," Colson nodded and ran back up the stairs.

"I didn't know what to wear so.." Y/N shrugged as Colson gave her a once over. She was dressed in full white- ripped jeans, t-shirt and matching converse sneakers.

"You look good baby..you always do," Colson stepped forward, "except there's one little problem," he undid her messy bun and her beautiful, lush hair came tumbling down her back, "I prefer your hair like this," he kissed her nose and smiled.

"If it pleases the master," Y/N bowed her head and they laughed.

"Let's get out of here before the master throws you back on that bed," Colson jerked his head towards the bed.

"Not if I do it first.." she purred as she traced her finger suggestively down his chest. With that she exited the room without another word.

Colson stood there gulping down his own drool; every fiber of his being on fire...

Tagged: @kellysimagines

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #fan fiction

[rosysugarr]

sorry if i might have come on a bit too aggressive there, i can see u didnt actually mean bad, but like, it was kind of a miscommunication there also the c!phil quote made me see red bc i hate him and im tired of people taking using his words to shit on c!wilbur and c!tommy so i got very defensive pretty quick. it was just way too close to other takes ive seen villainising ctommy and cwilbur so i was like BRUHHHHH

i think im starting to understand what u were trying to say, idk, im still a bit confused out here, but i can see u didnt actually mean anything bad so i just wanted to say this bc i dont actually like being mean

Oh no that's completely fine! I'm sorry my response was so confusing slkjdfa like. Again, it was one of those things that made sense in my head, but, y'know. Autism and all that.

To try and clarify exactly what my original post was trying to say, like... it isn't at all that I was trying to villanize or shit on c!Wilbur. I've actually said for months now that c!Wilbur isn't all evil or all good, but somewhere inbetween-- he's someone who's been so hurt and so damaged by the things that've happened to him and his own apparent mental illness that he struggles a whole lot. He has done things that were painful for people close to him, but I don't think he would hurt them intentionally, other than when he was at his lowest, most delusional and paranoid point during Pogtopia.

I don't think c!Wilbur is a bad man. He's a very sick man whose experiences have only made his paranoia and delusions significantly worse. But my intention was never to say that he's a bad person. The intention was much more to point out how, like... he has the charisma and silver tongue of a leader, but he just isn't emotionally stable enough to stick the landing once he gets something started, you know? Even if he wins, he can't seem to handle just accepting that win, he's always got to try to push it further and do more until it inevitably falls apart. Which could absolutely be due to his being so damaged and feeling as if he doesn't deserve stability and happiness.

I hope this helps to clear things up a little more, and please, it's okay! I understand that sometimes my thoughts come out only partially-formed-- it's the kinda thing where it's like... I know what I'm thinking, so I speak thinking everybody else will get what I mean, and end up leaving out something super important so everyone is just confused as fuck skdfjla