#day 28: I should have never let it come this far/hospital stay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gallusrostromegalus · 1 month

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How old's everyone by the time canon bleach rolls around?

Well that's an interesting question that I have devoted way too much thought to.

Most people in soul society age at the normal pace of one year per year, so they only have One Age, but even a tiny excess of spiritual energy can make some age much slower, and in Seireitei, which is full of Spiritually Potent People, most people have two ages- Calendar and Living Age. Calendar is how many years someone has existed, Living is approximately what developmental age they're at. Most Shinigami age at about one year for every 2-5 Lived, with average "died of natural causes and not in the line of duty" lifespans coming to 200-400 years. Power Level has a HEAVY Inverse correlation to aging, but once you hit the power levels associated with Seated officers and captains, things get Weird. Also fatal. Very few captains have died of Natural Causes.

But re: Everyone's ages in June 2000, when the series starts under the cut:

Karakura Gang:

The Kids are not dead yet, so not Subject to the extended lifepsans yet, but I did age everyone up a bit- Ichigo and his Human Friends are all Juniors in High school- age 17... ish.

Ichigo's 18th birthday occurs a couple weeks after he meets Rukia. He was held back from starting Kindergarten for a year because he was too short to reach the drinking fountains.

Chad was tall and his parents were both working full time so his mom persuaded his school to let him in early, so Chad only had his 17th birthday the month before he meets Rukia.

Kon: CA: 132 (9 years in his body) LA: 3, but in cat years, so really more like 22 in human years. An grad student in charge of a pack of teenagers.

Rukia: A Member of the Karakura Gang by association (i.e. my staging notes), Rukia is CA: 73 and LA: 20. She and Renji entered the academy when they were CA:25 and LA: 16. Like many high-powered shinigami, her rate of aging is slowing as she accumulates power, so she will likely live to see at least 500 (unless something happens)

Renji: See: Rukia. Rukia is eight months older than Renji and NEVER lets him forget it.

Kisuke Urahara: CA: 328 LA: 32.4545454545- Urahara is aging at one year for every 11 lived which pleases him because at least once a century his ages will line up and he'll have a straight shot of numbers and that's CLEARLY an excuse to have a MEGA birthday party and give him extra presents! He'll be 333 AND 33 in 2005, so Ichigo should start planning his surprise party!

Yoruichi Shihoin: CA: 329 LA: 28 Yoruichi is 365 days older than Kisuke (He was born in 1672) a leap year) and NEVER lets him forget it.

Isshin Shiba: CA: UUUH- LA: UUUUUUUH- Isshin Shiba was born to the Shiba Clan in 1846, was 154 when he vanished in 1980, appears to be in his mid-forties now, and can only actually REMEMBER the last 20 years of his life with any Clarity. The battle with White left his soul so damaged that when he fused with Masaki, he lost all his spiritual powers and forgot damn near everything- he remembers his given name, the name and face of Kaien Shiba but not how he knows him, that shinigami and hollows exist... but when he overheard Ryuken Ishida lying to the hospital staff that this was his friend from medical school who had been in a terrible car accident, he believed him, and assumed he WAS a doctor that had been in a terrible accident. Masaki was just as frightened of the Shinigami coming after the Quincy. While she could keep her relatives at bay, she couldn't fool the shinigami, so she asked the others to make sure Isshin never tried to return to spirit world... and they went along with it. As far as Isshin knows, Urahara was a guy he worked for as a teenager who helped him set up shop as a doctor after the accident. Yoruichi really is someone he used to be on the intramural volleyball team with back in college. Shinji is some guy who knew his parents, and decided to stay a friend of the family even after after they died in the accident. He and Masaki were married in a beautiful ceremony some weeks ago... Shame they lost all the pictures... Ichigo's promotion to Substitute Shinigami and the confrontation about "You used to be a CAPTAIN?? Why didn't you warn me and the twins about anything???" is one HELL of a shock for him.

Soul Society:

Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto: CA: 2,146 LA: 75 He was enjoying a Long Prime Middle Age until his Divorce in 1196, at which point he went bald, went gray and lost a significant amount of his muscle mass in under a decade, and has looked like an Old Man since.

Chojiro Sasakibe: CA: 1,358 LA: 66 (debated). Chojiro was barely 100 years old when he turned up at Yamamoto's Post Officer Self-Defense Dojo and refused to leave. His Lived Age is a secret known only to Unohana- the debate rages because Sasakibe was born with his Silver Fox hair, and with that removed, shows very little signs of aging. He insists he "-Just keep myself very well." and refuses to elaborate. He has a standing agreement with the SWA that his LA over various years may be revealed after he dies, so they may let people lay bets, on the condition that they give him a percentage when laid to support his Black Tea Habit.

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Soi Fon: CA: 201 LA: 29 Soi Fon has genetically terrific skin and if her mother is any indication, she'll look like a twentysomething until she hits menopause. THEN she'll look like a Silver Fox.

Marechiyo Omaeda: CA: 102 LA: 24 Omaeda has only been Lieutenant for 14 years, taking over the position early after his father (the previous 2nd Division lieutenant) had an extremely unexpected stroke. He's recovering well, but doesn't want to return because he's so proud of Marechiyo.

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Ichimaru Gin: CA:DEBATABLE, but at least 357 LA: 21 Gin has several days that *could* count as his "Birthday" but he's existed in his current body for as long as Rangiku has known him.

Rojuro "Rose" Otoribashi: CA: 312 LA: 37 Rose was promoted to captain a bare 2 years ago when TBTP happens, and is considered Young for a captain. In terms of Living Age, he's one of the oldest Visored.

Izuru Kira: CA: 89 LA: 23 He was a bit older than Rukia and Renji in CA and LA when he entered the Academy. He could have entered sooner but he was the sole caregiver for both his parents, who died premature deaths of chronic illnesses.

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Retsu Unohana: CA: 804 LA: "As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth." According to the official records, Retsu Unohana enrolled in Shin'o Academy in 1198, and when asked her age, said "I became as I am last year" Which the intake officer interpreted to mean that she died and appeared as an adult in Spirit World in 1197, and she has absolutely failed to correct that misconception. Or update the public records regarding her age.

Yachiru Unohana: CA 1,497 LA: 37 To her credit, Unohana DID die when she was 17 and appeared in the afterlife at the age she died at. Then she barely aged by the time Yamamoto recruited her in 998. She served as Kenpachi of the 11th Divisison for 199 years, until her battle with an as-yet-unnamed young man in 1197. Shortly after her 200th year as Kenpachi passed, she came to terms with the fact she was no longer the fighter she was, and fell in battle to her lieutenant. With that, "Yachiru" Unohana died, and the following day she enrolled in the academy under the name Retsu to study medicine.

Isane Koetetsu: CA: 282 LA: 28 Isane and her sister Kiyone are unusual for Shinigami in that the Koetesu clan has some of the slowest-aging shinigami in it, and the slowed aging STARTS as infants. Isane couldn't even enroll in Shin'o Academy until her 100th birthday, and even then she needed special dispensation to let what was functionally a 10-year old take college classes.

Hanataro Yamada: CA: 141 LA: 23 Hanataro is the younger brother of Former 4th div Lieutenant Seinosuke Yamada, who now runs the Seireitei Medical Center i.e. The Rich Bitch Hospital. Hanataro entered the academy at a very young age like Isane and graduated with honors, but people tend to compare him to his more accomplished older brother, which both of them think is Unfair seeing as Seinosuke is a whole 112 years older than him. Hanatarou started in the 4th division at the tender age of 42/14, and some of the other medics decided to prank the lieutenant's baby brother by sending him to do the initial medical checkup of newly-appointed 11th division captain Zaraki. When he failed to return for six hours, Seinosuke went into a panicked rage and ran to the 11th, ready to make Zaraki the shortest-serving captain ever if need be, only to discover Hanataro patiently vaccinating and enthusiastic Zaraki for EVERYTHING, a process that was taking a while because Zaraki's spiritual pressure kept breaking the needles. Hanataro has been the 11th Division Pocket Medic ever since, to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure. Zaraki encouraged his interest in Toxicology by bringing him dozens of venomous snakes to milk while on field expeditions, also much to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure.

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Sosuke Aizen: CA: 432 LA: 47 Aizen was born an identical twin, but was the only brother to inherit any spiritual powers. The boy's mother was caught and killed by an enraged shopkeep stealing food to feed a half-starving Sosuke when they were young children. The boys managed to get jobs in another city working at a candy store, and did so well that the owner left the store to them when he retired. Sosuke's marketing talents and Sosato's culinary skills made "My Brother's Candy" a wild success, and soon they were opening franchise stores, and became popular minor celebrities in their district. Sosuke even married and had children- and grand children, and was an active member of his district government and merchants council, personally opening up several schools and water treatment facilities. Then, shortly after he and Sosato celebrated their 88th birthday, tragedy struck. There was a massive flood that lead to a massive crop failure that lead to a massive disease outbreak, which lead to major political upheaval, which lead to Sosuke and his brother having to flee their home. Unfortunately, Sosato dearly loved his brother, and when the hail of arrows came down on them from the soldiers pursing the civilians, Sosato decided that he was near the end of his life anyway, while Sosuke- still functionally in his 20's- had so much to live for, and put himself between his brother and the onslaught. And so Sosuke Aizen went from Revered Councilor, Celebrated Candymaker, beloved Great-grandfather and Twin to an Exile and the sole survivor of his name. He joined the Shinigami, determined to make the Soul Society a better place where what happened to him would never happen again- only to discover that he was at the mercy of a corrupt and incompetent government, and worse, an apparently uncaring God. Until one night when he had a dream- all the pieces of his study of Kido came together and he realized there WAS a way to fix all this- He just had to become God. With that, Gin slithered away into the night and deep into the far districts, so he could assume a human form and forge an identity Aizen wouldn't question when they met back up again.

Shinji Hirako: CA: 412 LA: 31 Shinji genuinely thought he could get away with impersonating a high schooler to spy on Ichigo- after all, he still looked like he was what, 22? With the right clothes and some recent slang- "Why is there some creepy old guy wearing the school uniform?" Ichigo asks his friends the second he sees Shinji. "He looks like some kind of weird hipster who's trying to relive his youth." Sighs Mizurio. "-Or a really deluded pervert who thinks he can sneak into the locker room." says Tatsuki, cracking her knuckles. "He doesn't look THAT old-" Keigo protests, and there is the briefest glimmer of hope for Shinji's Ego. "-Maybe he's some kind of super-senior who got held back a bunch because he's dumb as a brick." Shinji crumples to the ground, defeated by the direct hits to his insecurities.

Hinamori Momo: CA: 66 LA: 26 Momo has an extreme case of babyface but is secretly ripped under her uniform and well on her way to MILFdom from the waist down. The first time Hiyori sees her in shorts is a psychological and spiritual awakening.

Hiyori Sarugaki: CA: 126 LA: 20 Hiyori is the youngest Living Age and slowest-aging visored. She gets mad about her youthful appearance but also uses it to get children's discounts at theme parks.

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Byakuya Kuchiki: CA: 181 LA: 26 Byakuya was married quite young, and Widowed soon after. He's still in his prime, and exceptionally hale for a Kuchiki- Despite the exceptional spiritual power of the clan, the centuries of inbreeding have given them severe health issues and very short lifespans for their power. Byakuya's grandfather Ginrei only lived to 486, and his father Sojun died at 200 from Hemophillia. Byakuya is still working up the nerve to tell Rukia that she will likely outlive him by a considerable margin, and the fact that Rukia hasn't got a nibling to spoil was His medical problem, not Hisana's.

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Sajin Komamura: CA: 712 LA: 22 Komamura is somehow both Older AND Younger than everyone thinks he is, and that's not even getting into the "Wait, is that in human years or wolf years?" Debacle. When Yamamoto met Sajin for the first time in the 1400's he was extremely impressed with the giant warriors skill and courage, and before Sajin had a chance to greet him properly, asked the warrior to join his Academy. "I- I'm really old but I'm actually eight." came the voice of a small boy from behind the helmet and Yamamoto had to go stand with his face pressed into the wall for a minute.

Love Aikawa: CA:345 LA:33 Love Aikawa is one of the few shinigami who came into his spiritual powers so fast that he did NOT have a creer before becoming a Shinigami.

Tetsuzaemon Iba: CA: 154 LA: 30 Testsuzaemon was still a small boy when Komamura was appointed to the third seat of the first division, and got to know his mother Chikane Iba. Chikane worked extremely hard, but held Yamamoto in high regard, and Komamura in similar regard by extension. So now Tetsuzaemon is lieutenant to a man he still secretly thinks of as his "Favorite Babysitter".

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Shunsui Kyoraku: CA: 856 LA: 48 Shunsui was forced to join the academy before his 100th birthday by his noble family because they had not actually planned on actually having a third son survive to adulthood and didn't really know what to do with him. Both Shunsui and Ukitake are old enough to remember when Unohana was still Yachiru, and Shut The Fuck Up about that fact.

Nanao Ise: CA: 141 LA: 28 When she first arrives in Seireitei, Yachiru Kusajishi is LA Eight, and quickly makes friends with Nanao, who is the other little girl close to her age with spiritual powers: "You're my baby sister now, but you'll be my Big sister sooner than later." Yachiru explained. "What do you mean?" Nanao blinked at her. "You're what, Living Age Seven, right?" Yachiru asked, squinting at her. "Yeah, but I'm really Forty-One!" Nanao insisted. It bothered her when people refused to take her seriously because of her age. "Right. I'm like Living Age Eight, so I'm your big sister. But I'm actually Four hundred and six." "…What?" Nanao gaped. "but, but that means you must be aging at…" She frowned, trying to do long division in her head. "-I age about one year for every fifty lived, yeah." "You- oh god." Nanao realized. "You outlive everyone you know." "Not everyone! Ken-chan and I are both aging at the same pace." Yachiru explained, wobbling a bit as she walked the log over the creek. "I guess I'm lucky- there aren't that many of us who age this slow so most of us don't have anybody who's really a 'life-long' companion, and I might be only one with a parent that's got a similar lifespan!" She grinned. "I age at about one for five, so in- ...in less than ten years I'll be older than you." Nanao hummed with concern. "Yep! But until then, you have to do everything your Big Sister says!" Yachiru grinned.

Lisa Yadomaru: CA: 427 LA: 36 Even though they're not REMOTELY related, Lisa bonded very strongly to Nanao when she was Shunsui's lieutenant. This causes some dispute with Yachiru when she returns to Soul Society because according to yachiru, Nanao is her Little Big Sister, owing to the difference in CA, to therefore Lisa is her Big-Big Little Sister, and Lisa thinks she doesn't have to support Yachiru's Candy Habit.

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Kaname Tousen: Calendar age: 499 LA: 32 After the events of the Winter War, during which Kaname turned 500, Kaname disputes that he is only 350, because he spent the last 150 years under Aizen's Curse and "-You call that living?" Everyone (except Sajin) regularly forgets when Kaname's birthday is because he doesn't celebrate it- it was also his sister Kakiyo's birthday and he hasn't really felt like 'celebrating' since she was murdered, and Ichigo is the first person to REALLY understand his feelings on the matter, his own mother dyind so close to his birthday and how visiting her Memorial wasn't exactly a celebration, but it wasn't exactly mourning either.

Shuuhei Hisagi: CA:119 LA: 27 Renji entered the Academy the year Shuuhei was due to Graduate and still thinks of Shuuhei as his "Senpai". Shuuhei entered the academy the same year Rangiku was due to graduate, and still thinks of her as his "Senpai". Renji once called Rangiku his "Grand-Senpai" She and Shuuhei both beat him with shoes about it.

Kensei Muguruma: CA:469 LA: 29 Kensei supports Kaname's declaration that he's only 350 because finding out Kaname is older than him brings up all the insecurities Kensei developed from being the MUCH younger brother to five sisters, and he can't handle being "The Baby" again.

Mashiro Kuna: CA: 506 LA: 25 It took 47 rounds of Janken with Yachiru for Mashiro to finally be the first to get to three victories and declare herself The Biggest Sister. She also saw Kensei's meltdown about Kaname being older than him and is quietly holding onto the fact she's older than both of them until the moment it will cause her beloved captain the maximum amount of Psychological Damage.

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Rangiku Matsumoto: CA: 357 LA: 29 Rangiku measures her Calendar Age from the date she appeared in Soul Society at age 14, which is an accepted practice, but sometimes people want to add their years in the living world as well. Rangiku supports Kaname's claim to be 350 because they let HER knock 14 years off her CA for an even more arbitrary reason, and also it means she doesn't have to get him a belated 500th Birthday gift for another 150 years.

Toshiro Hitsugaya: CA: 60 LA: 12 Hitsugaya is FAR AND AWAY the youngest Shinigami to achieve a seated officer's position by any age, and this was 100% done as a political maneuver by Yamamoto. Hitsugaya is no Slouch- he graduated salutatorian of his class and is the youngest person ever to achieve Bankai, but Yamamoto slapped him into the lieutenant's position 20 years ago (Hitsugaya graduated within weeks of Isshin Shiba's Disappearance) SPECIFICALLY to put Rangiku between him and any unscrupulous noble houses looking to forcibly adopt him/marry him to a spare heir/straight-up kidnap Hitsugaya to prop up their failing genetic lines. One of the clans tried it anyway and the resulting smoking crater where the clan compound used to be put the fear of Haineko into everyone and has so far discouraged further attempts.

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Kenpachi Zaraki: CA: 1,477* LA: 42 Like Gin, Zaraki has several dates that could count as the start of his existence, but when asked how old he was at the first moon-viewing party he went to- "...How d'ya guys measure that?" Zaraki asked, studying Shunsui with his good eye in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "Uh- well, for most people, it's when you were Born in Soul Society, but if you died and appeared here it's the day you first existed in Soul Society." he explained, feeling like he was missing an important dimension to the question. "Oh! In that case I'm- wait, shit. What day is it today?" "It's November 18th." Unohana smiled. "Ah, fuck! With all the chaos I forgot-!" Zaraki laughed. "Turned 1,377 last Monday." The assembled Shinigami all stared blanky, save for Unohana, who appeared to be trying to not laugh into her cup. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard that correctly..?" Jushiro asked, entirely sure he had. "One Thousand Three Hundred Seventy-Seven." Zaraki repeated slowly, grin cracking across his face. "-Can't say I've done as good a job lookin' after myself as Sasakibe here though." "I- good heavens! The only person you're younger than is Yamamoto himself!" Aizen exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. Zaraki frowned at that for a moment and then nodded. "...If you say so." Unohana made a small snuffling noise as she tried to not snort sake up her nose laughing. "How old are YOU, Mr. Glasses?" Yachiru asked. "Hm? Oh, I'm 332! And how old are y-" Aizen began to reply before he was interrupted by Yachiru jabbing her finger into the tip of his nose, cackling. "HAH! you're seventy- uh- seventy four years younger than me! You're a little baby man!" She clapped her hands with glee. "Unohana-sama? Are you alright?" Ukitake asked as the chief medic coughed suddenly. "I'm having a great time!" She wheezed, eyes watering from accidentally inhaling her drink.

Yachiru Kusajishi: CA: 506 LA: 10 Yachiru was Very Loved by her parents. Zaraki tells her this. When he found her, he found her in an otherwise abandoned house, with her parents, who had obviously died protecting her from the late-winter cold snap. She was still in her mother and father's arms when he came to investigate her cries. Her parents were wearing kimono that had the bottom third cut off, just above their knees, even though it was the middle of winter. She was wearing a double-layered baby Kimono made of the fabric they had cut off, to make sure she stayed warm. He took her into the nearest village, in hopes someone there could nurse her and tell him what her name was. She was lucky- there was a woman nursing her own daughter who agreed to take on her as well. But the Village elder hung his head in shame- he knew the couple the vagrant described- they lived far up the mountain, and only went by the name "Kusajishi", the name of the district, as was the style of many poor and illiterate farmers. They only came down from their farm once or twice a year to sell the special herbs they grew up there- the elder had seen the woman pregnant, but they had not come down to tell him the girl's name for the village records. So that day, the vagrant became Kenpachi Zaraki, and gave to her the name Yachiru as any parent should name their child, and the name Kusajishi, after the parents that loved her so. She only ever calls her adopted father Ken-chan, and is the only person who is allowed to call him that, because a parent should be called something special by their child. In deference to her parent's sacrifice, she does not call him "father". That was another man, who died for her. Zaraki does not lie to Yachiru, ever. Everything he told her about how they met is true. He has omitted one detail from the story, however. Her parents died from the cold snap because they had to be at least eighty, and not blessed with spiritual power like her. She had outlived her parents as an infant. And after speaking to the village elder about how, to his shame, he'd never managed to ask the little girl's name, even since he was a little boy, and failed to send anyone up there to check on the family, The vagrant with no name sat near the fire in the village hall, holding the little girl with no name. He thought about how terribly lonely it was, to not have a name. and how lucky he was that he had a mother who also had an extremely long lifespan that was able to live through raising him, and that he could still visit and speak to. and how unlucky this little girl was, that she did not. "How d'ya get a name?" the vagrant asked the village elder. "Well, here you just tell me what your name is, and I write it down in the village records." the elder said, watching him with curiosity. "...if I tell you a name, will you show me how to write it?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Of course." The elder nodded. The vagrant was silent for a while. "Then her name is Yachiru Kusajishi." Said the vagrant. "...And yours?" The elder asked, picking up the record book and inkstone. "Mine?" the vagrant asked. "You're giving her a name because she hasn't got anyone else to do it, aren't you?" The elder asked, gaze steady. "If you name something, it's your responsibility forever, and you're going to have to be responsible for yourself if you're going to be responsible for her." The Vagrant considered this for a while. "My name-" he started and stopped, throat clicking like he was literally choking on the words. "-My name for her is Kenpachi Zaraki."

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Mayuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 132 LA: 267 Mayuri is the only shinigami aging faster than the expected rate. This is because he escaped from Hell, and Hell would very much like to get his ass back there ASAP.

Nemuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 20 LA: 20 Nemu has been twenty for twenty years now, ever since she was pulled from the goo of her incubation tube by her father Mayuri, and will be 20 for the foreseeable future. The static lack of aging is something Mayuri hopes to fix in future drafts- Nemu is the seventh Nemuri, and the most successful one so far- She's the second Nemuri to actually make it out of her incubation tube, and the first to survive more than a year, but Nemuri Hachigo is already developing in the basement of the 12th in case something happens to her. The knowledge of her 'Little Sister' is something that brings Nemu comfort, like already knowing what you're going to be reincarnated as. "That's really fucked up." Says Uryuu Ishida in the rubble of Las Noches as she puts his intestines back inside his thorax where they belong. He's on a lot of drugs he'd like to know less about. "-It's also kind of cute. In a away. but really fucked up."

Kirio Hikifune: CA: 617 LA: 35 Kirio is one of a handful of people in on Unohana's double identity, but would NEVER betray her beloved Senpai's personal information! She served under Unohana in the fourth and developed her flesh-to-food technique with Unohana's help.

Tama Nikuya: CA: 1,477 LA: 26 Despite being the same age as Zaraki and Unohana and was aging at the same slow rate, the process that turned her into a Puca also caused her to go into bio-hell-fuckery that has effectively stopped her from aging at all. Or rather, she IS aging but every time she dies, she reappears as the LA age she was when she underwent The Flesh Change. She says the process is not infinite- she WILL eventually run out of spare lives, and if she manages to live long enough to die of old age in this body, she will NOT respawn at all. Also- it HURTS! She does die, which hurts, and comes back, which hurts EVEN MORE, and each time she comes back, she's confronted with the prospect of either outling all her friends or putting them through a similar hell to stay together. All in all, DO NOT ATTEMPT. I am speaking to you specifically, Kisuke. Akon Akon: CA: 119 LA: 27 Akon only has the one name but the archives don't like that so he uses it Twice. He was imprisoned without trial in the Maggot's nest for being part Yokai when he was a small child, and sprung to work in R&D By Mayuri shortly after Urahara's disappearence. He's friends with Yachiru and Nanao because there weren't hat many kids in the social circles of the Gotei-13's upper ranks, and all three of them shared a mutual interest in the Dinosaurs that were being discovered at the time. He's friends with Shuuhei because he was forced to take Remedial "if you work in the 12th instead of just R&D you need to actually know how to be a shinigami" classes the same year Shuuhei was accepted to the academy and they were dorm mates. Akon intermittendly draws weird one-panel cartoons for the Seireitei bulletin under a pen name, often about strange scientific jokes and on one notable occasion, bovine anthropological artifacts.

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Jushiro Ukitake: CA: 857 LA: 44 Ukitake is genuinely unsure if, when or HOW he will die, given that he is host to a Divine Being. Once that particular cat is out of the bag, it gives him something to commiserate about with Tama. Already, Shunsui is starting to outpace his age- is he doomed to bury his friend? or will circumstance force Mimihagi to consume him entirely? Mimihagi is sympathetic- the Left Hand of God is also not sure what this fusion entails for him- it's possible that if Jushiro dies by any other means besides Mimihagi consuming him, that Mimihagi will die with him, and neither is sure what kind of impact that might have on the universe at large. Still, if it weren't for Mimihagi's intervention, Jushiro wouldn't have this time at all, and Mimihagi will never have had these experiences, so neither regrets the choice they made, regardless of how it ends.

Hachigen Ushoda: CA: 278 LA: 32. Hachigen is appearing under the 13th Division because the Kido Corps got absorbed into the 13th while he was away. Hachi consistently fools people into thinking he's way older than he actually is because he has to tailor-make all his clothes for his massive frame, so why NOT go all the way and make something Special for all this effort?

...this post is already three miles long, I'll do the Arrancar and Quincy next.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #Long Post #not kidding HELLA long post #There are more than 40 names to tag #I ain't doin' that shit #read for your fave tho everyone has a Fun Fact (TM)

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pigeonwhumps · 7 months

Text

Hospital stay

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch

Whumptember day 28: "I never should have let it come this far" | failed hero | hospital stay | begging for help

Set in the future, when Phoenix has been with Kai's team a while. After being kidnapped together and tortured for, Phoenix and Aaron have been rescued, Kai injured while doing so.

Joseph belongs to @i-eat-worlds, from their story Alex and Friends. Please go read it if you haven't yet!

1.5k

CWs: immortal whumpee, hero whump, caretaker turned whumpee, trans whumpee, mentions of superpower overuse, mentions of waterboarding and whipping, past torture, medical setting, coma, low self-esteem, self-degradation, wish to have committed self sacrifice, something that could potentially come across as a death wish but isn't, past self sacrifice, emeto, past temporary character death, past whump reveal (I guess? Idk how to label it)

Phoenix blinks back tears as they watch Aaron, still and silent in the medbay bed in front of them. He's lying on his stomach, trailing with monitors and IVs and all manner of medical equipment, swathed in bandages. They should've done better. They should be there instead of Aaron, but their stupid healing factor, their immortality that's been so useful in the past, means that he was the one who almost died.

It's not fair. He could've escaped if it wasn't for them. But they're stupid and they failed, and now people are worried about them, too.

"They're definitely out of the coma?" whispers Phoenix to the nurse currently taking Aaron's vitals.

"Yes. Just asleep now. They're safe, everyone is."

"It's my fault."

"No. No, it's not, kiddo."

"It *is*. They used me to control him, he could've, um, escaped. And to check they were right. If I'd died quicker then he would've been less hurt, I should've, um, I should've–"

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare talk about yourself like that."

Phoenix blinks, then bursts into tears. The nurse is so fierce.

"Why do you care? Aaron's yours, I got him hurt, you should–"

A hand falls onto their shoulder. "Do you think that after what we've seen of you over the past few years, how much you've helped, how much you've hurt, do you honestly think that we wouldn't care for you too?"

Phoenix cries. They watch Aaron's too-still body and they cry. Everyone else shouldn't care. But as they watch the nurse tend to Aaron, they can't bring themself to point it out again.

"You're sure they'll, um, they'll be okay?"

"Yes. He's recovering nicely. They should be awake in about six to twelve hours."

They're still too bandaged, too still, too too too, too little Aaron in there. Phoenix tries to comfort themself with the thought that he'll be awake soon, but it doesn't help much. What if he doesn't want to see them again? It's all their fault. They're a failure of a hero, a useless, stupid–

"Hey. Whatever you're thinking, that's enough. Joseph's sent you another cat meme if you want a distraction. Are you in pain?"

The answer is yes, everywhere still aches and hurts whenever they shift (and when they don't), but they can't say that. They know why the nurse is asking. But they're a waste of resources and they deserve this anyway.

"No, sir."

"Are you saying no because you really aren't in pain or because you don't want painkillers? I have standing orders from Aaron to remind you that, although you can of course refuse medication, it's perfectly fine to take painkillers or anything else and it's not a waste of resources."

"I'm, um, I'm okay without, sir," murmurs Phoenix, unsure whether they want the nurse to call them out on it or not. She sighs knowingly.

"Alright. Let me know if you need any. Do you want to see Joseph's cat meme?"

Phoenix nods. "Please. And, um, can I move over to Kai's bed? It's, um, it's his turn."

"Of course."

The nurse fetches Phoenix's phone and wheels them over to Kai's bed, then adjusts their saline IV.

"We'll start you off trying to drink again soon. No water for a while yet though."

Phoenix nods, feeling a burning shame. There's no physical reason they can't drink, they're fine. But mentally...

Mentally, they've spent too long without Kai or Aaron reassuring them on anything, and they didn't realise just how much they relied on that. They're useless on their own.

They clutch Mr Frosty to their chest, smiling weakly at Joseph's new message and making sure to reply. They barely see it, but they know now that he'll worry if they don't answer for too long.

It's their daily cat photo. They don't know what they ever did to deserve Joseph.

They slide their phone onto their lap and sink their chin down onto Mr Frosty's head, observing Kai. He's unconscious too, but a lot of that's because he overused his powers. The medics weren't worried about his unconsciousness so much as the stab wound.

Kai looks peaceful. Phoenix isn't sure if that's true.

They look between their two best friends and guilt wells up inside them. Guilt, and grief for something unknown, bubbling over like an old stone well, overflowing and unstoppable. They've both been hurt, everyone's been hurt, because of them.

"I wish I'd been tortured instead of Aaron," murmurs Phoenix, stroking Mr Frosty's fur. "He didn't deserve it. But it's partly so I wouldn't have to watch, so maybe that makes me selfish. What do you think, Mr Frosty?"

"Mr Frosty thinks you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," croaks a voice from the closest bed, and Phoenix looks up, heart in their throat, to see Kai squinting at them.

"Kai! You're awake! Oh." They press a small red button on the side of Kai's bed. "The nurse said to call if you woke."

"How long have I been out?" he asks weakly, as Phoenix helps him with a sippy cup of water.

"A few days? Not entirely sure," they reply quietly. "I was unconscious too for some of it."

Kai tries to sit up, a concerned look on his face, but he can't manage it. "Are you okay? I thought you'd be healing faster, what's wrong?"

"Dehydration, mostly. I'm fine." Kai's gaze flickers pointedly to the IV line in their arm and back, and they sigh. Can't Kai ever miss anything? "I'm... struggling to drink, after... well. It's simpler this way." Phoenix hesitates, and then reaches out a hand hopefully, laying it on top of Kai's uninjured one. Kai turns his own over and squeezes it gently.

Kai's hand is rough, and warm, and large, and it fills Phoenix with relief, to be able to hold it again.

"Where's Aaron? How are they holding up? I don't remember that well but I'm pretty sure they were in bad shape."

Phoenix's eyes dart to the next bed, and Kai struggles in another fruitless attempt to sit up.

"He... he, um, he took the last whipping for me. After everything else he took it, I don't know why, I'm, um, I'm immortal, I'd have been fine, but he– anyway, they're, um, they're out of the induced coma now. Asleep. They're healing. I've, um, been switching between you."

Phoenix is dreading the point where they have to find out exactly how bad things are, how much Aaron hates them now, but they know they deserve it.

"Okay. Phoenix? Firstly, being whipped and waterboarded counts as torture, yes, to you too. Stop being mean to yourself."

Phoenix frowns. "How do you, um, know about the waterboarding?"

Kai squeezes their hand. "They sent videos. To anyone who might care that they had you both. Our team, Joseph, Electrocus, Aisling and Gemma... and Aaron's parents and Alicia. Nobody's told you, huh?"

Phoenix shakes their head, but everything's muted, like they're underwater. They're drowning and they have no idea how to come up for air.

They understand why no-one would tell them. Everyone knowing... that's far too much for their mind to hold.

They gasp, trying to grasp onto something, anything, looking for a lifeline their mind can hold. Everyone knowing...

And they don't even know how much.

"My... my parents?"

"No idea. We haven't contacted them, they haven't contacted us. If they know they're not saying. But no-one can share either of your identities further."

Phoenix takes a deep breath, trying to steady themself. This means Aaron doesn't know either.

Of course he doesn't. Of course he wouldn't. He hasn't woken since the rescue.

"Stop, um, stop trying to reassure me when you were stabbed."

"Then stop claiming you weren't tortured."

"Wasn't bad torture."

They were experiments anyway. That doesn't count as torture.

There's footsteps from behind Phoenix and they cower down, throwing their arm above their head even though it'll do no good. He's going to hurt them, he's going to stretch their limits and kill them and hurt Aaron and–

"Easy. It's just me, I'm here to check on Kai, breathe."

Phoenix does so obediently, blood rushing past their ears still but seeing the medbay as if from miles away, someone in a white coat entering their field of vision.

"Hello Kai," the voice says warmly. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Tell Phoenix there's no such thing as "not bad" torture."

"There isn't. But Kai, I asked about *you*."

"Thirsty, tired, sore. Not dying." He coughs. "What happened?"

"Let me check your vitals and monitors." There's a pause. Phoenix puts their head between their knees, trying to remember how to breathe. "You remember the rescue? Well, you got Phoenix and Aaron, but you had a dagger thrown in your back on your way out. You're damned lucky you were in wolf form. The healers patched you up, but you had a way to go on your own."

"And the others?"

"Lian's been in and out of sleep, Morfydd's in a sensory deprivation chamber, and Santhiya's recovering in a power-blocking room. You all overused your powers drastically, but you'll be okay."

The floor is mostly white with splatters of colour, swirling swirling splatter, and Phoenix throws up on the medbay floor.

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iwritewhump · 7 months

Text

"I never should have let it come this far" + hospital stay + begging for help

day 28 of @whumptember

343 words

warnings: hospital setting, being abandoned

part one

---

Hero wraps the I.V. tubing around his fingers and tugs on it, watching the plastic flow over his finger and into his lap. The T.V. garbles in the background, cameras still filming over the charred remains of Villain’s apartment complex.

She sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair, a leg propped up on the seat with her head resting on it. Hero smiles gently and picks at the fraying edge of the thin blanket the hospital provided him.

Villain startles awake and jumps to her feet. For a second, her bandaged hands are raised in front of her, ready to fight. Then, she sees Hero laying on the hospital bed and the steady rise and fall of the line of his heart monitor and she calms down.

“You alright?” Hero asks, pushing himself up with his elbows. “You didn’t sleep for very long.”

She smooths her shirt and sits down, “I’m fine, just…hospitals. They give me the creeps.”

He chuckles, “Well then you’ll be glad to know that I’m being released today.” he coughs nervously and leans forward, “I was actually thinking…since your building burned down you could come stay with me for a little while? Just until you find somewhere to stay.”

She stares at him for a second, absorbing his offer. Then, she stands and shakes her head, “I’m sorry, I just. I mean, come on, kid. It wouldn’t work.”

“I’m not saying forever,” He interrupts. “Just a few days.”

She grabs her bag and throws it over her shoulders, “I’m sorry, Hero. But I don’t think it’s the best idea. I never should’ve let it come this far in the first place. I mean, you have Superhero and I…well. You know.”

“Geez, Villain. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Hero almost snaps. “I’ll need help. I can still barely get around myself. Superhero won’t be able to help me, so please. Stay with me for a few days while I get my bearings.”

She shakes her head and walks out of the room, leaving Hero alone.

#whumptember #whumptember2023 #whumptember day 28 #whump #whump fic #hero whumpee #hero whump #villain caretaker #whump writing #my writing

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fallenwhumpee · 7 months

Text

“I never should have let it come this far”

Day 28: Failed hero | Hospital stay | Begging for help • Masterlist •

Warnings: Hospital settings, implied suicidal intention(? Not sure, but better be safe than sorry.)

Villain never wanted things to turn out like this. They never wanted civilians to die, heroes broken beyond repair. Death would be a kinder fate for most of them.

They walked through the corridors smelling chemicals and sanitizers, sniffling every once in a while to get rid of the irritated feeling. They stopped before Hero's room, hesitant. Hero had been awake for a full day now, after holding onto life barely for months.

Villain let out a harsh breath, gathering courage and knocking the door.

"Come in," a weak voice came. Villain couldn't believe it was Hero, but slowly opened the door.

Hero was sitting in the big hospital bed, a few IV on their one arm, and the counter filled with various pills. They looked tired beyond years with the dark circles beneath their eyes and an empty expression, their thin body buried beneath the white sheets.

"I never should have let it come this far," Villain whispered, horrified. They hadn't seen Hero after that day.

"No, you shouldn't have." Hero turned to them.

Villain took a nearby seat— or collapsed. Hero was even worse than Villain had first thought. They were looking too pale, their veins visible, and the wide shoulders Hero once had melted completely. Their eyes were dull, unfocused almost.

"I shouldn't have either." They continued.

With that, Villain averted their eyes.

"I should have either killed superhero, or died fighting. There is no place for an excuse of a hero."

"There's still much to do outside," Villain tried to sound hopeful. They needed help with Supervillain, and the only one they could think of for the job was Hero. "Much to protect, much to stand up for. I dont know if you know what happened after, but.."

They breathed. They never had to beg for something before. "We are desperate, need help, your help. I know things don't look good from there, but—"

"Don't lecture me," Hero returned, showing an emotion for the first time— anger. "It's over. Find yourself another rival. Or ally. Whatever messed up relationship we had. There's many others out there who can help you."

Villain opened their mouth to protest.

"Can't you see?" Hero cut sharply. "I'm done with all of this, drained. I will not even make it to the outside of this hospital. I will not fight again. And you can do whatever you want, I don't care!" They winced with pain after shouting but did a decent job with covering. Villain wouldn't notice if they didn't have the years of familiarity.

"Just leave me alone."

It was a plea. Not a demand, even if it sounded like one. Villain sighed and left. Perhaps it would be better to try this in another time.

#whumptember 2023 #whumptember day twenty eight #day twenty eight: failed hero #day twenty eight: hospital stay #day twenty eight: begging for help #hospital setting #implied suicidal intention

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squadron-goals · 8 months

Text

Finally off to Flanders

During summer 1917 Berthold sustained another serious injury, he was shot though the right calf.

15 August 1917

Now I have to start all over again. In Flanders, the English have so far dominated the air, so good fighter pilots are even more necessary than infantry. It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to my people of the Jasta 14 and go to Flanders alone. My new squadron first needs thorough flying training, I want to use the whole of August to practice. Already the English offensive begins to fizzle out like the French enterprise on the Aisne. At last my fight for a better organisation of the airmen is showing some success, since I have recently got the commander of the Flanders Army on my side: At my suggestion, four squadrons are always united into so-called fighter groups and these are placed under the leadership of old, proven fighter pilots.

20 August 1917

Today I received a picture and a few friendly lines from Prince Eitel Friedrich. A few weeks ago, when I was still with 14, I got to know the prince as a simple, natural person with a strict sense of duty. I had been to dinner with him one Sunday. There was only soup and a piece of meat with vegetables. No feasting and material ostentation, which might be a privilege for wretched parvenus, but downright Spartan-like, old Prussian simplicity! When I think of this, I realise that we Germans should be happy and grateful to have at the head of our empire a Hohenzollern dynasty that has not only led throughout the centuries, but also preserved a genuinely German way of life.

6 October 1917

My Jasta 18 has now become the core troupe. In September, it had already achieved 32 aerial victories. There is now no pilot without his own victory. This is not my doing, I merely trained them and led them to the enemy, showed them how to attack. The attack itself, the killing of the enemy, the main thing, is the achivement of the pilots. Their brilliant fulfilment shows what an outstanding spirit there is in the entire Jasta, in each individual! I quickly settled in at 18. Two old good friends are faithfully at my side: Seppl Veltjens and old Mr Dingel. If Seppl stays alive, he will achieve great successes. He is like a young hunting dog: he still hasn't got the hang of it, even though he has already made quite a nice number of kills. He still lacks the eyes and the calm, cold calculation in difficult moments. But I will teach him what is missing. Old Mr Dingel and Father Turck are loyal, they never let our Jasta down and, even if they don't shoot any more themselves, they often help more with their decent attitude. They are the guarantors that an impeccable tone, a decent conception and a right aviation spirit always remain alive in the Jasta. Every busy day of flying tires me out, so I can't devote as much time as I used to to the organization and the comradeship. Now it is the 4th time that the Jasta has cleaned up in the English bomb squadron which was considered unassailable! Apart from my opponent, 2 others have been brought down. It is my 28th! The mechanics are beaming. When we come back from a flight and there isn't a single enemy smashed up, they make a very reproachful face. The good guys!

Another severe injury!

On 10 October Berthold shot down his 29th opponent. In the process, he was shot in the upper right arm from the side, shattering the bone. He still managed to land safely, but had to be rescued unconscious from the machine. The serious injury could not be treated in the field hospital; Berthold was sent to a hospital in Berlin, where his sister Franziska was a head nurse. His wound is severe: the right upper arm is completely shattered, broken like an oak that has been struck by the deathblow. He has to spend 4 month in the hospital. On his insistance he returned to the front, where he lead the newly formed Jagdgeschwader 2. His arm was still not properly healed, painfull and lame. Still, on 28 Mai 1918 he shot down another victory. On 10 August 1918 he shot down his 44th victory but during the fight his plane is so damaged that he crashes. Badly injured again, with his right arm broken once more, he is taken to a field hospital from which he soon escapes. But soon wound fever sets in and he has to admit to himself that the war is over for him. He returns home.

#Rudolf Berthold

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Twisted 28 - Sunlight [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, hospitals, medicine.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Survival makes people stronger.

Everyone’s voices were so muffled that for a moment it felt as if you were under water. It came and went just like the warmth, just like the comfort—

One moment there, the other moment far away, and anytime you tried to reach through that haze, you were pushed back into the numbness.

You could swear at some point your father was there too. You were still at the cabin, in that dress, sitting across from him by the chessboard, and then back at the weekend house where your sister was chasing you around the piano, your mother calling out for you to stop running, then someone pushing you into the lake by the cabin before it changed again and your father handed you a knife.

If this is hell, I’d like to talk to the manager.

But eventually, it all came back to you. There was this heaviness on your hand, your chest and ribs hurt terribly and your forehead kept stinging as you tried to open your eyes to meet the bright lights of the hospital room.

Ah. You weren’t in the woods anymore.

You had made it after all.

The constant beeping of the machine caught your attention for a moment before you looked down to see Spencer’s head resting on your hand, his fingers entwined with yours. Your mother was by the couch, her eyes fixed on the ceiling with a crumpled tissue in her hand and Mina was resting her head on her shoulder.

“Mom?” you rasped out and your mother’s eyes whipped to yours, Mina sat up and Spencer’s head shot up.

“Oh thank God!” your mother jumped out of her seat to come to your beside and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making you wince. “Oh thank God you’re okay…”

“Hey,” Mina wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, “Welcome back brat.”

You smiled and turned to Spencer who was still holding your hand tight, watching you with bloodshot eyes.

“I know,” you said, “No eyeliner right?”

A small sob mixed with laughter rose from his throat and he pressed your hand to his lips, swallowing thickly.

“Hi.”

“Hey professor,” you tried to smile but you were in too much pain to do so, “Is there like…a morphine button or-?”

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Mina rushed out of the room and closed the door behind her, and your mother pulled back.

“How do you feel honey?”

“Like I crawled out of hell,” you said, “Is- is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine.”

“Where’s Lily?”

“With Kenzie and Nolan, outside.”

You let out a breath and turned to Spencer.

“You figured it out?” you asked, “The note?”

“Ophelia, yeah,” he sniffled and nodded fervently, “Cabin by the lake, we were on our way there when—” he stopped talking as if remembering it was way too heavy on him and you squeezed his hand.

“How did I….” you looked between them, “Survive? Erica shot me.”

“The helicopter,” your mother said, “We sent it with a medic and a sniper just in case.”

“You sent a helicopter with a medic and a sniper?” you repeated, “Mom, that sounds like a joke.”

“Well I’m glad you find it funny,” your mother wiped at her eyes again, “Because you’re grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Okay,” you shot a look at Spencer, “Ignore this.”

“No, not even your boyfriend can help you right now.”

“They still like you, no worries,” you explained and he shook his head slightly, reaching out to touch your cheek as if trying to prove to himself that you were real.

“I thought—“ he started and blinked back the tears, gritting his teeth and you rubbed your thumb over his hand.

“I’m fine,” you said and lifted your head when the thought hit you, “Wait what happened to Lincoln?”

A shadow crossed Spencer’s eyes and your mother flexed her fingers as if she wanted to throttle someone upon hearing his name.

“That monster is currently handcuffed to a hospital bed,” she said, “But not to worry, we put ten guards in front of his door, and I will make sure to ruin his life myself.”

“He survived?”

“Barely,” Spencer said through his teeth but before he could say anything else, the door opened and a doctor stepped in. Even you could hear Lily’s very loud protests, Kenzie trying to shush her and you smiled slightly before turning to the doctor who was checking the file in her hand.

“Hello Y/N,” she said cheerfully “Nice to see you awake, for a moment you had me worried we wouldn’t get to meet. So, we have head trauma, a bullet wound, broken ribs and blood loss. Were you trying to fill out a bingo of dangerous injuries or…?”

“Go big or go home doc,” you nodded and she raised her brows.

“Should I put in a psychiatric evaluation in here as well then?”

“Yes please,” your mother pinched the bridge of her nose and you heaved a sigh, making a face.

“Pain?”

“A lot.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” she said and Spencer stood up.

“Can I see her chart please?” he asked and she took almost taken aback before showing him the chart.

“I’d like to change these two meds,” Spencer said and started listing off his suggestions while you watched him with a smile on your face.

“Spencer,” you said, “Please let the nice and smart lady do her job.”

The doctor grinned at you, “That’s alright. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

“Two questions. One, when can I go home?”

“We’d like to keep you under observation for a couple of days, depending on how fast your body shows progress to heal.”

“Okay. Can I smoke here?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” your mother threw her head back, Spencer just stared at you and the doctor blinked a couple of times.

“Since this job taught me never to take any question as hypothetical,” she said, “I’m just going to answer it. No, under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to smoke here.”

You curled your lips, “It was worth a try.”

“We’ll give you some really good painkillers, don’t worry,” she winked, “I’ll let the rest of your family in and see you later.”

She walked to the door and opened it, and soon enough Lily rushed inside but as soon as she leaped at you, Kenzie caught her mid-air like a troublesome cat.

“No, what did I say outside?”

“But mama—“

“It’s okay Kenz. Hi bug.”

Kenzie gave you a teary eyed smile and slowly set Lily down, and she hugged her teddy bear before taking a step towards you, nibbling on her lip.

“Does it hurt?” she pointed at the stitches on your forehead and you tilted your head.

“Just a little, sweetie.”

She carefully put the teddy bear beside your bed and grinned at you.

“Mr. Chocolate Chip Cookie will be your friend here,” she patted the teddy bear’s head and you let out a small laugh.

“I really appreciate it bug, thank you,” you said and held the teddy bear in your lap before you turned to Nolan. “Hey man, thanks for the helicopter.”

“Thanks for the almost heart attack,” he replied and fixed his bowtie, “You keep me young with all this panic and adrenaline. Honestly Y/N, never do that to us again, please.”

“I’ll try my best not to get kidnapped by a maniac again,” you stated, “Besides, mom already grounded me so…”

“Good! No jet for you for a while young lady.”

A nurse came in to inject the painkiller into your IV, and you smiled at the sight of your family fondly, then cleared your throat.

“Hey, not that I didn’t miss you guys,” you said, “But um…can I talk to Spencer for a moment?”

Kenzie and Mina exchanged looks and Kenzie lifted Lily up.

“We’ll be right outside,” she said and walked to the door. One by one they left the room and your jaw dropped when you saw Mina squeezing Spencer’s shoulder before she left as well.

“Well, something changed,” you commented and Spencer came to pull a chair next to the bed before he reached out to hold your hand.

“She was the first one to talk to me when we landed,” his voice still didn’t sound so strong and you frowned.

“What did she say?”

“Go there and bring my sister back.” Spencer said and ran a hand over his eyes, “Based on the profile, I thought he’d already—“ he couldn’t even finish that sentence before he kissed the back of your hand, “I thought I lost you.”

“Nah, cigarettes will kill me, not serial killers,” you reached out to push a curl out of his eyes, “I thought you knew that. All looks and no smarts, aren’t you?”

He scoffed a shaky laugh and you licked your lips.

“What happened there?” you asked, “I heard gunshots after Erica shot me, is she—“

“Dead,” Spencer nodded, “She was shot right there.”

You could feel the goosebumps on your skin, “And Lincoln?”

“I was going to kill him,” Spencer said, “If I got there first, I would’ve.”

“Spencer you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he told you, a dangerous light gleaming in his eyes, “I do mean that.”

You heaved a sigh, now easier thanks to the painkillers, “Yeah well, I guess I know the feeling.”

“Um- the team is outside as well by the way,” he said, “Luke and Garcia has been here the whole night, and I’ve been instructed to tell you, word by word, no amount of pastries will excuse the worry you put them through.”

You grinned, the tired haze of sleep crashing on you, “Ouch, I’ll have to try harder I guess,” you said and yawned, making Spencer smile.

“Rest a little,” he said, “I’ll stay right here, okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head back to the pillows, then closed your eyes.

***

You were given the permission to go home after a week because your mother insisted on keeping you there until she was convinced you wouldn’t drop dead all of a sudden. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t raise hell when you told her you would be staying at Spencer’s place for a while, and for once, Mina agreed with you.

You really needed to ask Spencer what had happened while you were gone, in detail.

It was strange, but your sleep was much less disturbed after you had returned from the hospital. When you were in hospital you had just assumed it was because of the meds they had given you, but now, sleeping with Spencer in his bed, there was still no sign of any nightmares.

With you, that was. Spencer was a completely different story.

You still had to be careful because of your ribs and the doctor had told you to be careful with how you slept, so the moment you moved a little in your sleep and felt the pain shooting through you, you made a face and reached for Spencer’s side of the bed only to meet an empty spot. You opened your eyes, and carefully sat up in bed, trying to hear whether there was any noise to signal he was coming back to bed but there was none, so you slipped out of the bed and walked to the living room.

Of course he was there. Cradling a cup with steam coming out of it in his hands, staring into the darkness as if he was lost in his own mind.

“Spencer?” you said softly and he turned his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, trying to smile, “Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you tilted your head before you went to sit beside him and he ran a hand through his curls.

“It’s not important.”

“Nightmares?” you asked and he nodded silently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” he murmured, “How about you? Any pain? Do you need an ice bag?”

You shook your head, “Nah it’s fine,” you said, “It doesn’t hurt that terribly.”

“And your nightmares?”

You shrugged, “No nightmares. I mean—at least not like the earlier ones. Not where I’m turning into him.”

“Trauma works differently in everyone.”

“I don’t think it’s the trauma though,” you said, “I think it’s because…because I know now.”

He raised his brows, his whole attention on you, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not in me,” you said, “It’s just—it’s just not. I don’t think it ever was. My father killed people because it made him feel powerful. It wasn’t like that with me, back at the cabin. It was survival. For me and people I care about, that’s all. It doesn’t make me evil.”

That seemed to pull him out of his thoughts and he smiled.

“No it doesn’t,” he said, “You’ve never been evil. Even when he tried to turn you into that.”

Even your heart felt light, despite the pain in your ribs and your smile widened.

“I know he’s not dead but…”

“He’s locked away. Same difference from now on.”

You paused for a moment, “Speaking of,” you said, “I was thinking I could go and see him for the last time.”

He frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’ll help me put this whole thing behind me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want to see the look on his face when he realizes his small project failed,” you said, “Trust me. There’s no way he can get to me, not anymore.”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand and you leaned back to the back of the couch, still keeping your gaze on his handsome face.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you said, “If it’s too much.”

“It’s not that,” he rasped out, “Officially, I might not be allowed in.”

“Why not?”

“I’m leaving the BAU.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him, then sat up straighter.

“What?”

“I can’t anymore,” he averted his glances from you to look into space, nibbling on his lip, “Y/N, I was out of the city when they called me to tell me you were missing, that you were most probably taken by the copycat. And for the whole time until I found you…” his voice cracked, “Lincoln’s profile, before we even knew that he was Lincoln, it all suggested that he…killed his victims without spending any time with them. I thought—“ he sniffled and cleared his throat, “I can’t do that anymore. Imagining you like all those victims…”

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t,” he said, barely moving his lips, “Back there.”

Ah. The woods.

“That’s what your nightmare was about?” you asked and he heaved a shaky sigh.

“I couldn’t save you,” he said, “You died there, and I couldn’t do anything, I was too late—“

“Spencer,” you reached out to touch his cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

He turned his head so that his eyes would meet yours and you dragged your fingertips over the slight stubble on his cheek.

“You weren’t too late,” you told him, “And I didn’t die. Okay? I’m right here. Don’t leave the BAU because of me, do it only if you want to. I’ll be with you either way.”

He blinked back the tears and nodded. “I want to,” he whispered, “I can’t anymore, and I want- I want to be here. I’ll just…I’ll focus on teaching, and the team can consult me whenever they need to, but I need to be here.”

“And you’re sure about that? It’s not some…heat of the moment decision?”

“It’s not,” he said, “I’m positive.”

“Alright,” you smiled at him softly, “Okay then. I guess instead of talking about gruesome murders and copycats who were after me, we can be one of those boring, cliché couples who bicker about…I don’t know, dirty dishes in the sink, or how you forgot to put down the toilet seat or-“

“Your hair in the drain.”

“I’m going to pretend like you weren’t waiting for the opportunity to bring that up.”

He let out a teary laugh and wiped at his eyes before he pulled you closer and carefully wrapped his arms around you so as not to hurt your ribs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You brushed your fingers through his curls, as if trying to prove to him that you were there, that you were alright.

“I love you so much,” the confession left his lips in a whisper and you could feel the burning behind your eyes as you raked your nails over the nape of his neck gently.

“I love you too,” you murmured, “God, you have no idea how much.”

***

The BAU, upon your request, fixed a meeting with your father for the next week.

And throughout that week, everyone tried to convince you to change your mind. Your mother had made a whole scene during brunch, telling you that it was as if you liked torturing yourself, but you knew deep down that you had to talk to him for the last time.

Seeing your father after what felt like a life time, especially after everything that you had been through was strange at the very least. You didn’t have any goosebumps, you didn’t have that nervousness messing with your head, you didn’t feel like you were under the threat of being attacked any time, and most of all—

You didn’t feel like he was stronger than you. At all.

You lit a cigarette in the interrogation room, then flipped the cap of the lighter and turned your head when the door opened and your father walked in, chains dangling from his handcuffs wrapped around his ankles. He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he didn’t expect to see you there and let out a breath.

“Petal…”

“You should sit down,” you said, exhaling the smoke and a guard helped him sit down across from you.

“We’re right outside, miss.”

“Thank you,” you said and watched as he straightened his back, his gaze focused on you.

“You look…” he trailed off and you raised your brows,

“Hm?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Ah I guess your outside source ending up dead gets you a bit behind on the news,” you said, “Erica is dead, Lincoln is never gonna see the sunlight again, and your whole project to turn me into your legacy with the help of them failed terribly.”

“I’d never allow them to harm you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling the smoke.

“But you fought your way out, didn’t you?” he asked you, “Looks like my training helped you after all. Even if you refuse to see that.”

“Did you seriously think I’d become like you?” you asked back, “Did you think Lincoln would manage to turn me into you?”

“Honey, Lincoln was going to be your companion at best, your first kill at worst.” he said and you clicked your tongue.

“Oh, that was your plan all along?”

“Some part of it, at least. I knew they wouldn’t be able to handle you, but I thought you could decide what to do with them. Could you kill Erica at least?”

“Didn’t get the chance.”

“You should have,” he said, “You would see, Petal.”

You twirled the cigarette between your fingers, staring at him for a couple of seconds.

“I keep thinking,” you mused, “You know what I said to Mina and Kenzie when they first told me they wanted to have a baby?”

He tilted his head, “Hm? What?”

“I asked them if they lost their minds.”

Your father pulled back slightly and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Because I mean… Kenzie’s parents are assholes, and there’s you,” you motioned at him, “Not that anyone else could take the cake on being a messed up parent when you’re in the picture.”

“I take offense to that.”

“I don’t care,” you said, “But then it hit me, back at the hospital. I was looking at this whole mess from the wrong perspective.”

“Which is?”

“They had a point,” you said, “Back then- before all this I mean, I thought when someone decided to have kids, their first priority was to be the perfect parent. That’s stupid, it’s impossible to be the perfect parent, our own parents mess us up in one way or another. But I get it now.”

“You get what?”

“The first step is being better than your own parents, not starting out perfect,” you said, “That’s why every generation is different, we’re all trying to be better than our parents, and some of us actually succeed.”

“And you think you’d be a better parent than me, is that it?”

“Shouldn’t take that much of an effort to be honest.”

“Are you…?” he motioned at you and you scoffed.

“No,” you said, “No, but what happened back there made me think. I’ve been living my whole life so convinced that you messed me up beyond my own control, beyond saving, but that’s not completely true, is it? I mean, just because you’re in my past, doesn’t mean I’ll have to include you in my present.”

“But I am in your present Petal.”

You pursed your lips together, then gestured around you. “Debatable. Nolan is buying this whole place, did you know that?” you asked, “All your guards are on our paychecks, so it should be harder to…use them to contact outside. We control everything that’s happening here, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

He blinked a couple of times, trying to catch up with your train of thought.

“And you think that will be enough to put me behind you?”

You shook your head, “No, I don’t think it’s that easy,” you confessed, “But it’s a start.”

He moved his hands on the table, the chain rattling.

“I raised you.” he said, “I’m inside your head, whether you like it or not. You’re my legacy—“

“I’m my own legacy, you fucking idiot,” you said with a small chuckle, “That’s who I am. Just because your expectations of me will not leave me, doesn’t mean I’ll let them haunt me.”

“And you think that will be enough.”

“I will never see you again,” you tilted your head, “Should make things easier, to be honest.”

He smiled, “But you already hurt people,” he said “You know how it feels now, don’t you? That fire? Now you know what you’re capable of.”

You thought for a moment.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah I do. Now I know that if it ever comes to that point, I’m capable of protecting myself and my family. It doesn’t make me a monster, it makes me a survivor. Me and mom have that in common, after the shit you’ve pulled.”

He stared at you and you took a last drag of your cigarette, then checked your wristwatch.

“Well I should go. You may have all the time in the world, but I actually have a life, so…”

You stubbed your cigarette and walked to the door but as soon as you opened it, he said your name, making you stop.

“You can’t escape from this,” he said, “Even if you never see me again, you still won’t escape, you know that, right? Why do you think I chose you and not your sister? Even when you were a child, you had…something in you. Something dark, something dangerous.”

The idea was very familiar to you. You had been saying the same thing to yourself for many years and hearing it from him for what felt like a hundredth time was supposed to make you feel bad, you knew that. If it were any other time before your kidnapping, before saving yourself in that cabin, before surviving everything your father and his followers had put you through, it would probably have more effect on you.

The last time he had done that, you had ended up in the stairs, shaking until Spencer had found you.

But it wasn’t that time.

It was as if something had clicked inside your head after everything, and your father’s words held no strength in them.

“Come on honey,” he told you, “Some people are just born twisted.”

A small smile pulled at your lips and you raised your brows, looking at him for a couple of seconds, etching the sight of him in chains into your memory.

“Maybe,” you said and took a step towards him, opening your cigarette case to pull out the small jasmine flower out of it, then put it on the table, eyes locked to his before you leaned in slightly.

“But I wasn’t.”

With that, you turned around and walked out of the interrogation room for the last time, ignoring the way he was yelling your name. Your smile widened as you made your way out of the building, your heels echoing in the halls before you stepped out, the fresh air filling your lungs.

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, leaning back to your car and reached out so that you could step into his embrace as he pushed your hair out of your face, “How did it go?”

“As expected,” you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips and he heaved a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said “Yeah I feel like…he’s gone. He’s gone, I’m here and I’m free and I know myself now. I finally woke up from that nightmare, for good.”

He smiled and brushed his lips against yours, “That’s a good start,” he commented, “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m open to suggestions,” you said and he tilted his head before he held up your keys.

“What do you say we drive away and never return here?”

You let out a small giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I like that idea,” you said, “Let’s drive away and never return.”

Chapter 29

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #twisted #spencer reid imagine #spencer #reid

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 28 – You Can Never Go Home Again

Chapter 1 Chapter 27

“Okay Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” the doctor said pushing away from the hospital bed in the birthing center and pulling off her gloves. “You are completely effaced. We are definitely ready to go.”

Marinette looked up at Dick, an absolutely panicked expression on her face before looking over to the doctor. “What? What about an epidural? We had a birthing plan. It included an epidural.”

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look and shook her head slightly. “I understand, but it appears the universe had other plans. We are too far along for an epidural. You’re going to be pushing before the anesthesiologist will even be able to get here.”

“Fuck you,” she scoffed. Her eyes immediately widened at her words. “I’m sorry that was… I’m sorry. Doctor Graham, was it?” she clarified. The doctor nodded. Marinette smiled in response, which quickly turned into a grimace and scream as another contraction hit. “Fuck you, Dr. Graham,” she growled.

“There isn’t any way to get the anesthesiologist up there faster?” Dick tried, desperate for any way to help Marinette feel less scared and less pain.

Dr. Graham chuckled at Marinette’s outburst. “I get that a lot. Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing I can do. The anesthesiologist is with another patient right now and won’t be able to get here for about twenty minutes or more. I expect at least the first baby to already be born by then, maybe both,” she informed them earnestly. “Sorry. It took too long to get you here.”

“Well sorry for getting kidnapped by some bird obsessed cult,” Marinette gritted out after another contraction passed.

Dr. Graham looked over to Dick who shrugged at her. “The bats just saved her and we rushed right here.” Dr. Graham shook her head. Honestly, not the strangest thing she’d heard in Gotham. “We will need extra security because of it,” Dick added.

“We can have police in with the babies,” Dr. Graham assured him.

“Oh Hell no,” Marinette grunted.

“Police officers were the ones to deliver her to the cult,” Dick explained, running his hand up and down Marinette’s arm in a soothing motion.

Dr. Graham nodded, again, not too surprising. “Do you have an alternative?” she asked as she gave orders to the nurses to get the room set up for the birth.

Dick shrugged distractedly, his focus on the pained expression Marinette was making and the way her body was curling in pain. “We can work something out. The bats seemed to know something about the cult. They might be willing to help keep watch.”

“Yeah, maybe we can focus on the baby trying to come out right now, yeah?” Marinette growled between pants.

“Of course,” Doctor Graham said kindly. “We’re already getting everything ready and I’ll let you know when to start pushing.”

Marinette nodded silently. She looked over to Dick, her look of annoyance with the situation turning to a look of panic. She was not ready for this. She was not ready for the twins to be born. She didn’t have everything settled. She and Dick hadn’t talked. She didn’t know where they stood. They hadn’t talked about where they were going to stay. She hadn’t even processed the kidnapping yet.

“It’ll be okay,” he cooed at her soothingly. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his chest as he wiped her sweaty hair away from her face. He looked lovingly in her eyes and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “You can do this. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re amazing.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll be right here to support you however I can. Feel free to try to break my hand while you push.”

Marinette huffed out a short laugh. “I might take you up on that.” She breathed through another contraction, squeezing his hand and groaning loudly as it crested.

“Go ahead,” he assured her. “I can take it. I have the easy part.” He gave her a soft smile, until she turned to face the doctor and grimaced while her focus was elsewhere. She might actually break his hand at this rate. “Just focus on the end. When this is all over, we’re going to have two beautiful babies just as amazing as their mother.” She looked back up at him, uncertainty clear, but fading. “The universe can’t take you down. The Court of Owls couldn’t take you down. You can do this,” he whispered confidently. She nodded at him, a look of determination settling in as she felt the start of the next contraction.

“Alright Ms. Dupain-Cheng. It’s time to push,” Dr. Graham informed her with a smile.

<><><><><>

“I’ve been thinking…” Dick started, looking over cautiously to Marinette. She was sitting in a glider in the twins’ NICU room attempting to nurse Robert. Robert was doing extremely well, but his sucking reflex was still developing, making latching on more difficult for him than it was for Lucy. Lucy was resting comfortably on Dick’s bare chest, enjoying skin to skin contact under the simulated sun lamps. Her black hair sticking up above the blanket wrapped around her and Dick.

Marinette gave him a tired smile. “About?” she prompted.

“Living arrangements when Lucy and Robert are ready to go home. Robert’s doing a lot better now. I think he’ll be ready to go home in a few days. Lucy will probably be ready sooner,” he answered, turning to be able to make eye contact with Marinette while they talked. It had been a few days since the twins had been born and they still hadn’t had a chance to really talk. Between the coordination of taking care of the twins and making sure there were eyes on them at all times and the exhaustion on Marinette’s system from delivering the babies and after the kidnapping, there hadn’t really been time.

“Dick, I…” she started looking away guiltily.

“I know you’re not ready to date let alone move back in together,” he assured her gently, “this isn’t about that,” he assured her gently. “This is about their safety. The Court of Owls isn’t eliminated. They have multiple strongholds. This was a hard hit, but they aren’t gone.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked away nervously. “I don’t even think the apartment is safe.”

“The prophecy,” she nodded, tickling Robert’s cheek to try to get him to open his mouth wider. “This isn’t over is it?”

Dick shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’ll take a while for them to recover, but I think they’ll be back.”

She sighed sadly and tried to focus entirely on Robert so Dick wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes at the thought of them returning, the thought that they would never truly be safe until the Court was completely eliminated. She ran her hand over his curly black hair. Whereas Lucy had gotten her mother’s straight, thick black hair, Robert’s was closer to his father’s. Little curls licked his face and curled away. “So, what were you thinking?”

Marinette may have turned away from Dick, but he still knew her well enough to know she was terrified and trying to hide it. He could see it in the way she hid her face. He could see it in the way her shoulders curled around Robert. He could see it in the way she held him just a little closer. He moved so he was sitting next to her and could cup her face with his free hand.

“We’ll keep them safe, Marinette. We won’t let anything happen to them,” he assured her. The fierce determinism in his voice made her want to believe him. They would do everything they could to protect their babies. She leaned into his hand and nodded. “So, what I was thinking was… we should make sure they are as safe as possible.” She gave him a confused look, unsure why he suddenly sounded so tentative. “And the most secure place I can think of… is the manor.”

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape in surprise. “You think we should move into the manor?” she whisper shouted. “Dick, I don’t want to live in Bruce’s home for the rest of our lives.”

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal,” Dick conceded. Before the kidnapping, he certainly would never have expected to propose returning to the manor. He had moved out for a reason and now, with Marinette and the twins, there were even more reasons not to. But, there was one overwhelming, overpowering reason they should. “But, it’s the safest place in Gotham, probably New Jersey, possibly in all of America. He has a ton of security to ward off cults, rogues, magicians, assassins, and everything else he could think of.”

“And it’s so big! What if the twins play hide and seek in a few years and we never find them? That place is too big,” she exclaimed.

“Okay, good point,” he allowed. It wasn’t and they both knew it. There was no way they, Kismet, or Alfred wouldn’t be able to find them, but he wasn’t going to argue that point. His focus was to get the twins under the best security they could manage, not get lost in the details. Not to mention, he had actually gotten lost in the manor a few times when he first moved there, so he knew getting lost was a possibility. It’s just that they wouldn’t stay that way. “But what if we take Bruce up on allowing him to build us a secure home. Our own home, with just as much security.”

“Dick!” she exclaimed loudly and immediately regretted it. She startled Robert off his finally successful latch and woke Lucy up. “Sorry,” she grimaced apologetically.

Dick chuckled at her and started bouncing Lucy to lull her back to sleep. “I know. I don’t really like the idea of asking him either, but we need some place safe. The Court of Owls is dangerous, extremely well connected, and apparently obsessed with our children. We need top of the line security and I don’t think we could afford it otherwise. I think it’s the only way to keep them safe.”

She stared at him silently for a few minutes. Not really sure how to react. He was right. They would need security, more security than they could afford otherwise. However, they did have built in security with the kwami, not that Dick knew about that yet. But it also wasn’t entirely reliable. The kwami couldn’t do much more than warn them if something was happening. They couldn’t act on it without potentially devastating consequences.

Dick spoke up after a few minutes, misinterpreting her hesitation. “I… I can live somewhere else. The most important thing is for you and the twins to be safe,” he offered.

“But they might come after you as well. You’re a Grayson,” she protested. If anything, he and the twins needed to stay under the security’s protection.

“I can stay at the manor,” he assured her.

Marinette concentrated on Robert while she thought it through, running her fingers over his curls. She wasn’t ready to go back to the way they were. She didn’t trust him completely yet. Or rather, she trusted him, she just didn’t know if she trusted him with her heart. But she did trust him to keep her and the twins safe. She did trust him to protect them and to act respectfully. She trusted him to want to do what was best for them.

“No… why don’t we… why don’t we stay in the manor until we figure out where we want to go? Relationship wise.” she finally offered resolutely. Dick nodded in understanding. There was no reason to build a home for the two of them if they weren’t going to live together. Marinette and the twins would need security whether she stayed with him or not, but if they decided they didn’t want to get back together she should have a home of her own, away from him. “We can have our own rooms and the twins can stay in mine for the first few months, until the likelihood of SIDS is lower.”

“Bruce has a few very large rooms in the manor, would you… how would you feel about us both staying in the room with the twins, but in different beds? That way I can help better and you don’t have to do all the work by yourself,” he offered cautiously. He didn’t want to scare her off by pushing too hard or rushing her.

Marinette studied him uncertainly. That seemed awfully intimate, but at the same time, it would allow her some rest. He could change diapers and help get them back to sleep… “We can try it…”

“But if you start to feel uncomfortable, I can move to another room, immediately,” he assured her.

Marinette nodded in agreement. “Okay”

Dick smiled again, a relieved, excited smile. He knew there was a lot to do. He knew he still had a long way to go, but they were making progress. They weren’t as bad as he thought they had been. “I know I have a lot to make up for and a lot to prove. I know I messed up and I want to fix it.”

“What do you think you messed up,” she asked curiously.

“I think I was so afraid of losing you, I got obsessed with eliminating any threats that might hurt you. I… I couldn’t lose you like I lost my parents,” he answered honestly. “That’s not an excuse,” he insisted quickly. “It’s not an excuse because I know it doesn’t excuse my behavior. It’s just my reasoning. I didn’t even realize it until Lucius pointed it out at the fashion show. He also pointed out that you wouldn’t have let me go. You would have pulled me out of my obsession, and I knew that. So that’s why I didn’t tell you.

“I think that’s what I need to fix. We’re supposed to be a team. We were supposed to be in a relationship, but I was cutting you out. I saw that I was hurting you, but I convinced myself I was saving you from something worse. I think I messed up by cutting you out of my life. I’m going to change that.”

She nodded at him with tears in her eyes. “Okay. You know it wasn’t the secrets, right? You were allowed to have secrets. I didn’t begrudge you that. Hell, I have secrets I haven’t told you yet.” She looked down at Lucy when she started making whimpering noises. “Trade me,” she motioned for Lucy and held Robert out for him to take. He gently handed Lucy off to Marinette to nurse and took Robert, loosening his swaddle so they could do skin to skin time. “I want us to get to the point we don’t have secrets from each other, but we both deserve the time to figure out when we’ve reached that point.”

After a few minutes bouncing Robert, Dick looked back to Marinette with an open, vulnerable expression. “I spoke with Commissioner Gordon,” he started slowly. “And I quit the Titans. I’m going to become a police officer in Gotham. I’ll be here from now on. There might still be things I can’t tell you because it’s police business, but you’ll know why I can’t tell you now. And I know that doesn’t make up for everything I’ve done, but it’s a start.”

“Dick! You didn’t have to give up something you love for me! That’s ridiculous. Whether we get back together or not, you shouldn’t give up things you love to make someone else happy,” she exclaimed desperately. The last thing she wanted was for him to give up parts of himself, parts that mattered to him, parts he might be bitter about having given up later.

Dick shook his head emphatically. “I didn’t do it for you. Well, not just you. I was miserable whenever I was away. I hated missing you and the twins. I… I didn’t want to miss out on their lives like I missed out on the pregnancy. I don’t want them growing up without me.” He sat back down next to her again to look her in the eye again, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. “I won’t lie. I want to go back to the way we were, but without the leaving and the lies.”

He brushed her bangs out of her face and gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “I love you and waking up to you in my arms is one of the best parts of my life in the last few… years really. Kissing you, touching you, seeing your smile. All of the things I got to do with you were magical. I’d love to get that back, but I know I have work to do to get there. And I’m willing to put in the effort.”

“Dick…” she rested her head in the crux of his neck, angling Lucy away while she did. “It’s going to take a while.”

“I know. And I know we might never get back there, but I want to try.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his head on hers.

Marinette looked back up at him and nodded. “Let’s focus on getting the twins healthy and learning how to be parents. Then we can see how things feel.”

Dick smiled gently. “Okay.”

She shook her head and turned her head back to rest against his neck. “I owe Adrien 100 euros. I bet him I wouldn’t end up with a hero.”

“Technically I’m a vigilante. And we’re not together,” Dick corrected with a smirk, “… yet.”

She stared at him for a few moments before nodding resolutely. “You know what? I’ll take it.”

Chapter 29

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - home

107 notes · View notes

sunflowerspecter · 4 years

Text

any moment, any time (a.h.)

summary: being in love is hard, in your line of work. you only hope you can tell him all of your feelings before it’s too late. unrelated, his brother is your best friend.

warnings: yep, this part is angsty too... but there’s so much more fluff, i promise.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (gender neutral)

words: 2408

part: 2/2 part one

note: i forgot last part that if i italicize something on my doc, it won’t transfer onto tumblr. however, now that there are no italics last part, why start now? i’m sorry

Everyone took shifts waiting, while the others went back to the hotel and rested and recharged. You almost didn’t, because you wanted to be there for Aaron for every last moment, but Emily practically forced you to (you only ended up being gone for an hour, and then you fell asleep in the chair beside his bed). It was your third day of sitting and waiting. Except for the daily hour in which the team forcibly removed you and made you eat and rest, you sat beside him for three days. You did paperwork on your knees as you sat there, waiting for him. You tried playing a game on your phone after the paperwork had finished, to not seem quite as bothered as you were, but in the end, it was three days of sitting, holding his hand, and waiting for him to wake up.

On the rare occasion you were alone with him, you whispered things to him.

“Wake up,” you said. “Please, wake up. I’ll fight for you, I will, until the day I die, I swear. I’ll never turn away. Just wake up.”

“I love you, and I didn’t tell you, and I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll hold you every single night, all you have to do is get better.”

It didn’t ease your soul to say such things, but you hoped it eased his.

Other times, you would sit alone with JJ. She also didn’t want to leave Hotch’s side, but not in the same way you did.

“You know, he’s going to wake up,” JJ said. She was sitting across the room, by the window, one knee pulled to her chest.

“I know that,” you said.

“You’re staring at him like you’re trying to force life into him with your mind.”

You shook your head as Rossi walked in the room, handing a coffee to both you and JJ.

“No movement?” he said, sitting by the door.

“Nope,” JJ said. Your phone rang, then— it was Sean.

You stepped out of the room, just far enough that your conversation couldn’t be heard, but close enough that you could watch Aaron through the door.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hi,” Sean said, “How is he?”

“No change. How’s Jack?”

“He misses his dad.” There was a shuffle on the other side of the phone. “He wants to talk to you, is that alright?”

Tears brimmed your eyes (how were you supposed to talk to your comatose boss’s son?) and you turned away from the room, but you said, “Yeah, of course,” nonetheless.

“Ms. Y/n?” the boy's voice said, shaking.

“Hey, Jack, how are you doing?”

“I am worried about my dad,” he said quietly, and your heart wanted to burst.

“He’s going to be okay, I promise. He’s resting, right now, but he’s going to get better.”

‘Hey, if there’s anyone up there listening, please ensure that I did not just lie to a child.’

“I trust you,” the quivering voice said, and you broke. Hot, heavy tears down your cheeks, as silently as possible because you cannot let Jack know that you’re upset.

“Hey, bud, it’s kinda late, right? I think your dad would want you to get some rest, yeah?”

The boy yawned loudly. “‘Kay.”

Sean was back on the phone, then. “Can you keep the promises you made him?”

“I don’t know, Sean,” you muttered. “How are you holding up? He is your brother.”

“I mean,” he hesitated. “I don’t want to lose him. What about you? JJ told me you were a mess on the ride to the hospital.”

“You were talking to JJ—no, wait, of course you were.”

“Well, plus, I mean, you’re in love with him, so I figured.”

“I’m what?” you said, too loudly. A few nurses looked over at you, and you could feel JJ’s eyes on the back of your head.

Sean laughed. “Come on, you’re my best friend, Y/n, I know when you’re in love.”

“Wait, so you aren’t upset?”

“Why would I be upset?”

You sighed. Of course he wasn’t upset, you felt silly for even thinking he would be. “I’m in love with my best friend’s brother. That’s like, a high school trope, isn’t it?”

Another laugh (at least you were getting laughs out of him. That had to count for something). “I suppose, but I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, haven’t I?”

“That you have, Sean Hotchner.”

“I gotta go put my nephew in bed, but you should call me later, okay? Love you, bye!”

You smiled as the phone clicked off. Leave it to Sean to make you feel better in the middle of a very serious situation.

Speaking of which, there was a commotion of noise behind you (a heart rate monitor was beeping rapidly). You turned and Aaron was awake, looking rather discombobulated.

(“Is the team okay? Is Y/n okay? Here? Where?”)

“Hey,” you said, walking in the door. He looked at you and his eyes softened, and JJ and Rossi froze.

“See, I told you Y/n was right outside,” JJ said to him, patting his shoulder lightly. To you, she said, “I’m going to go get the nurse.”

You and Rossi sat on opposite sides of Aaron as he gathered himself.

“Everything hurts,” he mumbled, and it made your heart ache, so you grabbed his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, love,” you said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” he asked, looking between you and Rossi.

“No, Aaron,” Rossi said. “We got the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and JJ walked in with the nurse. “Let’s give the nurse some space, help me call the team?” JJ said, and you and Rossi nodded, standing. Aaron didn’t let go of your hand.

“Stay?” he murmured, and you shook your head, kissing his forehead.

In his ear, you whispered, “Tell me in the morning if you mean it.”

And as you pulled away, he gave you puppy-eyes (he was very obviously very drugged up) and you blew him a kiss.

JJ elbowed you as you stood in the waiting room. “So, you and the boss-man?”

“You sound like Morgan,” you said.

“I agree with JJ,” Rossi said, and you groaned.

“Okay, but that’s how you’re supposed to act when people were just shot and are now really drugged up. Sensitive.”

“Does sensitive include kissing him and calling him love?” JJ asked, smirking.

Maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, you picked up your phone and dialed Reid. “Hotch is awake,” you said.

“We’re still talking about this, later,” JJ said.

~~~oOo~~~

He wanted to hold your hand.

He was helpless in the eyes of the team, all surrounding him, but you could tell he wanted to hold your hand again. His palm was open toward the ceiling, right in front of where you sat.

And, hell, you would have held his hand, if not for JJ, staring daggers (well, more appropriately, cupid’s arrows, because Garcia was fueling JJ’s matchmaking tendencies) into your soul.

“When do we get out of here?” Aaron asked, clearly already restless after having been awake for less than an hour.

“When the doctor says it’s okay,” Rossi said. “We’ll probably end up driving you back.”

You could see the look of horror on Hotch’s face. “That’s like… a lot of time.”

“About 28 hours, to be exact,” Reid said, and no one on the team said anything, they just smiled.

“Well, sorry Hotch, but you’re on your own for that one,” Emily said, and you giggled, elbowing her knee.

“I’ll drive with you,” you said, and he smiled dopely at you. JJ checked her watch.

“It’s late, we should let Hotch rest,” she said. “He needs to get better so that hopefully he can fly back.”

The team slowly said goodnight and filed out, save for you.

“There goes me being in the field for a while,” he joked. You laughed halfheartedly, then sighed.

“I thought I lost you,” you mumbled. “I was so worried, Hotch.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap.

“It isn’t your fault, not at all, love.” You dropped your elbows onto your knees and then your head into your hands. “Sean’s taking care of Jack, by the way. I’ve been calling with him. Jack misses you.”

He glanced up at you, then said, “Is it too late to tell you I love you?”

“Hmm,” you mused, grinning (and trying to ignore the blush crawling up your neck). “No, I think it’s okay if you tell me now.”

“Well,” he said, and you could see him almost shying out of it, “I… I love you.”

“Good,” you said, “because I love you, too.”

He smiled at you, a big goofy grin, and you stood halfway, kissing his cheek, and then pecking his lips.

“Go to sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.” You made to leave the room, but he stopped you.

“Please stay?” he asked. “Just until I fall asleep?”

You nodded, sitting back in your chair. “But only because I love you.”

He grinned and closed his eyes as you ran a hand through his hair. “That feels nice,” he said.

“You know what else would feel nice? Sleeping.” He laughed, and you pressed your finger against his lips. “Go to sleep, my love.”

“Do you promise to come back?” he said, opening his eyes. You practically melted under his gaze.

“I promise.”

You didn’t have to pray to know you would keep that promise.

~~~oOo~~~

“Remind me again why we do this when we could spend the evening by ourselves,” he whispered, pressing soft and sweet kisses against your neck from behind you, his hands on your hips as you set the table.

“Because neither of us can cook and Rossi offered?” you said, turning around in his arms, kissing him quickly. He smiled lazily down at you, hair in his face. “And also because we promised to let them see you everyone once in a while while you’re on leave? We’ve done this every other week for the past six months, Hotchner.”

“You know, we probably have time before anyone gets here,” he said, right as the doorbell rang. “Damn,” he muttered, and you stepped away from him, giggling.

“Hey Spence, hey Emily!” you said, ushering the pair inside. “Emily, it’s unlike you to be so punctual. I expect this behavior from Spencer, but—”

“Spencer offered to give me a lift,” Emily said, shaking her head. You were going to shut the door, but a car pulled up and you recognized JJ’s car. She and Will stepped out, Henry in her arms. She set the boy down and he ran to you, and you bent down to hug him.

“Jack’s in his room, you know where it is,” you whispered to him, and he ran off.

Soon, your kitchen was full, Garcia and Morgan having a heated debate with Reid about… something, you weren’t exactly sure, JJ and Emily bothering Rossi while he cooked, and Will and Aaron discussing… crime, probably. Or children.

You smiled, throwing an arm over Garcia’s shoulders. “I’m just saying that it would probably be cheaper for us to fly commercial,” Reid said.

“Yeah, that’s not a conversation I want to have,” you giggled, and Garcia poked your side.

“So, I know you said we’re not allowed to ask in the office, but how’s Hotch?” Morgan asked.

You shook your head. “You ask about Hotch all the time; he’s doing fine. Getting stronger.”

“He means,” Garcia sighed, “how are you and Hotch.”

“We’re good,” you said sighing, realizing you would have to tell her sooner or later anyway. “We’re really good.”

The group of you moved to sit at the table, and Aaron sat beside you as everyone settled into chairs, squeezing your shoulder. JJ came in with the kids, who sat next to each other at the far end of the table.

“So, Hotch, when are you coming back?” Emily asked the inevitable question.

He shrugged. “Soon, I hope. I’m becoming domestic.” The table giggled, and you shared a look with Reid.

“We miss you,” he said, and Aaron smiled.

“I miss all of you, too, but we’re here now, so,” he said, and the conversation took three million different turns, then.

After dinner, the group moved to the living room, where you all were set to watch a kids movie (about so-and-so who wanted to do something or other and then met so-and-so who inspired them, according to Rossi). Jack sat on your lap and you leaned into Aaron’s side, and across from you, Will, JJ, and Henry practically mirrored you. Morgan and Prentiss were sitting practically on top of each other, and Garcia and Rossi were being respectable and sitting normally, and Reid was sitting between you and JJ, holding the hands of Jack and Henry.

Family.

The doorbell rang, and Aaron looked at you, raising an eyebrow (who could that be?). You grinned and put Jack in his arms, running to the door.

“Sean!” you said, throwing yourself into his arms. “God, it’s so good to see you.”

He laughed, hugging you back. “Good to see you too, stranger.” You pulled him through the door and into the living room.

“Sean Hotchner, everyone, everyone, Sean Hotchner!” you said loudly, glancing over to see Aaron.

Jack ran to his uncle, getting a hug, and Sean looked at you.

“You didn’t tell him,” Sean said through his teeth in your ear.

“It was a surprise,” you said in a smile.

But then Aaron smiled and embraced his brother (being exclusively domestic for so long had made him go a little soft, having not had to go into work-mode in so long, and you absolutely adored him like this). “Good to see you, Sean,” he said.

“You too, Aaron,” he said. Then Sean turned to you, and said, “I feel like this speech goes for both of you, now, as my brother and my best friend, but if you hurt each other, I’m going to hurt both of you.”

You threw your head back and laughed and Aaron pulled you into his arms, grinning at his brother. “Not a chance.” He kissed your temple, and Sean made a face, going to introduce himself to Garcia and Morgan. “Thank you,” Aaron whispered in your ear.

“Forever and always, love,” you said.

“Good, love.”

hotch taglist (lemme know if you want to be added or removed)-

@quillvine @winterscaptain @genevievedarcygranger @word-scribbless @angelsbabey @agenthotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #hot cheetos #hotch x reader #hotch imagine

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

@fuck-yeah-nalu Naluween week 2020 Apocalypse prompt

Lucy POV

The further I run, the softer the screams become, dying away into garbled choking and haunting ripping sounds as the zombies tear away at the flesh of their hapless victims. I wipe away the tears that cloud my vision, don’t look back Lucy, I cry a mantra in my head, don’t look back and see your family... it’s too painful to know you are the only one who made it out alive. I can only be grateful that my mother never lived to see this day or become one of the undead. Oh god, please don’t tell me corpses will reanimate too! I shake the thoughts away. Don’t you do that!

How did this happen? I have no idea what is going on because it came on so suddenly. A plague that washed across our town, the state, is the world like this? Where do I go? Is there anywhere safe? Is there anyone I know that’s still alive? I call these creatures zombies because it’s like a horror movie come to life! I saw with my own two eyes a servant killed by one of the creatures, literally her throat ripped out and blood spurting everywhere, suddenly come back to life! Then they both went after our butler...

It was only by the grace of skill that I escaped with my life. Years of running track and a conditioned body allowed me to out pace these ravenous beings. They weren’t slow nor fast, yet deadly focused on their unquenchable hunger. Is that all we have left for our futures? Whether today or 60 years from now to turn the moment I die into a zombie? I have no idea. Is it just in the bite? Was it an airborn virus unleashed into the world? Has Mother Nature forsaken us? And can we blame her for it?

All the sounds of carnage have ceased and I’m left to my own thoughts as I walk the back roads from our country estate. I have no clear direction except to avoid areas of population. It was a good thing that we lived outside of the city itself where there are less people. The heart of town must be crawling with zombies by now. Yet distant gun fire or explosions, and occasional screams remind me to stay focused at least until I find somewhere safe to hold up in.

I hear a car approaching from behind and turn to look. As it gets closer, the vehicle looks awfully familiar... It grinds to halt a few feet before reaching me and I hear the best sound I’ve heard all day!

“Lucy!”

“Natsu!”

I run to his open trucks door and launch myself into his arms. “You’re alive!” The tears stream down my cheeks as I bury my face into his chest.

“I’m so glad I found you baby! I went past your house looking for you, but it was over run.”

“Everyone’s gone!” My sobs increase. Dead or undead, no longer the people I cared about.

“At least we’ve got each other.”

“But... your family?”

“Gone too,” he grits out.

His voice tells me he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake. “I’m so sorry Natsu.”

“Can’t be helped at this point. Come on,” he ushers me, “let’s get out of here.”

I jump into his truck and we take off again. “But where do we go?”

“No idea. Right now my main concern is doing what ever I need to keep us alive.”

Ever wished you’d watched more horror movies when you had the chance? Before today, it’s not something I would have ever considered. But it sure would be handy! As Natsu drove, different scenarios ran through my mind. Would this be like a 28 Days Later type zombie that eventually starves? Or more like a classic George Romero, never dies type, that finally stops because their body has completely rotted away? But let’s just hope it’s not a Resident Evil plot line with mutant zombies and a corporation behind the whole thing. Government... maybe... The current President does have a screw loose. Anyways, I guess the cause could be irrelevant at this point. We needed to figure out ways to survive this, however long it would last.

What are the common ideas in the movies? Find a secure building, preferably easy access for scavenging food and water. Avoidance as much as possible... Oh! And weapons! Guns, ammo, a big knife. Hmm, tactical clothing, comfortable and durable. But wait?! What if the outbreak came from contaminated food?! Ugh! This is so frustrating!

“Do you still have your cellphone Natsu? I wasn’t able to grab mine.”

“I do. Sent out a group text but so far no one’s answered.”

“At least that’s still working... for now.”

We drive and drive searching for supplies if we’re lucky enough to come across them. Gasoline, food, water, weapons, clothes, and bedding. Natsu’s truck is a blessing to have in times like this to use less travelled dirt roads or even no roads at all. These zombies are everywhere! How did it spread so quickly?

I use his phone to Google what’s happening and sure enough this pandemic is sweeping across the Americas but has not yet jumped across the oceans. The world’s response was to immediately shut down borders. Planes were turned around and grounded and ports grind to a halt. Military vessels from Asia and Europe were on their way to create blockades to stop boats from leaving either American continent, and fighter jets in the sky ordered to shoot down any planes...

“Oh my god...” my hands fly up and cover my mouth. “Natsu were trapped.” The world has turned its back on us. “This really is an apocalypse for our country.”

So many theories and stories about the cause of this infection fly around the internet. Best anyone can tell it started somewhere near Maryland and quickly moved across state lines. Several articles mention a government research hospital called Walter Reed as a possible link. We’re they working on something that caused this outbreak? Why doesn’t this surprise me?

“Why? What are you reading Luce?”

“In order to keep the pandemic from jumping continents, the world is basically cutting us off. I mean I can’t blame them, but what about survivors? Is no one gonna help us to escape?”

Damn! It could be like the 28 Weeks Later scenario! Are they going to bomb us, try to eradicate us! Oh look, at least the President is confirmed dead. That useless fat bastard was a plague of his own on this country.

Ping.

“Omg Natsu, Gray answered! He said he and Juvia made it out of the city, as well as Erza, Jellal, Levy, and Gajeel too! Right now they’re holding up at an abandoned warehouse in Clover. Natsu that’s the next town from here!”

“Should we go?”

“I think so, there’s safety in small groups.”

Natsu takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Then we have a plan.”

What the future will hold is still to be seen. Will we survive it? You know what? I shut off Google and realize no one else is going to protect us but ourselves. We have to work together if we hope to live another day, but at least we have each other and our friends.

I smile back, he was right. “We have a plan!”

#naluweenweek #naluween week #naluween 2020 #apocalypse prompt #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu AU #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fic #yes it was a jab at COVID and the US #sorry not sorry

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trueromantic1 · 3 years

Text

The Myth of Me and You Is Fiction Turned To Truth

Summary: After the events of both seasons (SVU 22x16 and OC 1x08), Olivia and Elliot find themselves in the unique position of knowing where there love story will end up, but having no idea what exactly will transpire to get them there. One thing they do know? Their love can only grow deeper, and that they’re bound to enjoy the journey.

Author’s Note: For the purposes of this story, SVU 22x16 ended on May 28 (canon) and OC 1x08 ended on June 4 (not canon). This picks up on June 7.

Title comes from Great Ones by Maren Morris. It’s definitely an EO song.

Rating: M, possibly Explicit eventually

ff.net: here

AO3: here

Her phone beeped, drawing her distracted gaze away from the paperwork in front of her. Seeing the text message notification lighting up the screen, Olivia took off her glasses and put her pen down, picked up the phone, and leaned back in her chair with a sigh as she unlocked it.

Can I buy you dinner? There’s news.

She frowned, trying to tell his mood from those few words. Realizing it would be impossible, she glanced out at the nearly empty squad room before hitting the call button instead.

“You didn’t have to call. I know you’re at work still Liv.” Judging by the voices she could hear in the background, he was still at work as well. She knew they’d been dealing with the lawyers and IAB ever since Morales turned out to be a mole and decided suicide by cop was the best way out.

“It’s fine El. I needed a break from the paperwork for a minute anyway. The one thing they never prepare you for is just how much paperwork you do when you’re in charge of a squad. So, what’s going on?”

He chuckled, and she could hear the creak as he leaned back in his own chair. “That’s what dinner is supposed to be for Liv. If I tell you now, what would be the point of dinner?”

She smiled, recognizing his tone as the slightly flirty one she’d been hearing more of ever since what was supposed to be Fin’s wedding. Neither one of them was ready to jump into a relationship, but they’d come to a silent understanding that night by the water. “I don’t know Elliot. We’ve never needed a reason for dinner before. Why don’t you just tell me the news now, and then you can come over to my place later and we’ll get Chinese. Noah’s taking advantage of it being summer vacation and is at a sleepover so his friend’s mom can take them to an early show of a ballet she worked on costumes for. Apparently, they allow friends and family to come for free on Tuesdays, but it’s normally during the school day.”

“Oh, I bet he’s excited. Sleepover during the week and going to a professional ballet performance?”

“Yes, he’s thrilled. It’s all he talked about all weekend. Now quit stalling Elliot. What’s going on?”

“I never could get one by you, could I? Okay. Well, Angela Wheatley woke up earlier today, and is expected to make a full recovery. Bell and Washburn went over to the hospital once they cleared her for visitors. And we’re finally supposed to be done dealing with IAB and the lawyers over this. We still have to wait for IAB’s official report, but I got the feeling none of us were going to get in trouble for what happened. They told Bell they’d already spoken to you as well, so you should be done with them for now too. And then on a more personal note, you remember I told you I was looking at apartments in the city? At Fin’s not-wedding and then that I had some more appointments the rest of that weekend? Well, I found one, and I went down and signed the lease today during lunch.”

“El, I’m glad things are working out with the case, and that IAB will be out of all of our hair. It’s still bothering me what exactly Richard Wheatley was planning with that fake text sending me to the hospital. But I guess we won’t know unless he decided to tell us. But way to bury the lead! El, that’s great! I can’t believe you found a place in just a week. You didn’t just settle for something did you? You need a good place for you and Eli to make a home.” She knew he’d been anxious about getting out of the one bedroom short-term he’d rented after Kathy’s death, so she hoped he’d taken his time to find something he really liked.

“It’s nice, knowing you worry about us. And thanks. Don’t worry, it’s actually a great place. Rent’s a little higher than I’d planned, but I can make it work. It’s about halfway between here and the one six actually. About two blocks from the school Eli will be going to, assuming they’re back to in person by then. And it’s a three bedroom two and a half bath, which I figure will come in handy if any of the kids decide to visit and don’t want to drive home ever. And it’s near a park, in case anyone else wanted to visit. I take possession this Sunday, and Bell gave me Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off so I can get some stuff moved in. I’ve got some furniture scheduled for delivery on Monday.” The calm she’d been hearing more and more in the last few weeks shone through, which she knew was at least in part because he’d finally started talking to someone. But she thought a lot of it had to do with settling back into the city, since he’d confided that as much as they’d been happy in Italy, the energy had just never been exactly right to him.

“I’ll always worry El, you know that. I’m glad though. Now you and Eli have all summer to get settled in. Hopefully he’ll meet some of his future classmates, so he won’t fell so new when school starts back up. And you know, it just so happens, I might know someone who could come help you get things set up. You know, if you were interested.” She made sure to infuse her voice with a hint of suggestion, upping the playful flirting they’d been indulging in just a bit. She mentally patted herself on the back when she heard the hitch in his breath followed him clearing his throat. His next words, voice lowered and with a hint of a growl, proved he hadn’t lost a step either, as she felt herself flush with arousal and a corresponding dampness between her thighs that she was fast becoming reacquainted with that caused her to cross her legs and shift in her seat to try to alleviate the pressure.

“Is that so? Well, far be it from me to turn down someone willing to work up a sweat with me. Why don’t we discuss it more over dinner? I should be able to be to your place by 7, if that works for you.”

She checked the time, then the stack of papers she needed to finish, then glanced into the squad room. Seeing her people were now at their desks, folders open in front of them, she quickly calculated it’d be at least another hour before she could even think of leaving, especially if she planned to take three days off next week. “Make it 8?”

“8 it is. Want me to pick up our usual on my way over, or are we having it delivered?”

“Hmm, better pick it up. You know how busy they get. If you call it in when you leave, it’ll probably be just about ready by the time you get there.”

“Sound good. I’ll let you go so you can finish up all that paperwork. See you in a few hours Liv.”

“Alright. Bye El.” Hanging up, she pressed the phone against her chest a moment, savoring the warm feeling she always seemed to get when she talked to Elliot these days, before standing up and walking out into the squad room.

“Anything you guys haven’t finished by 7, you can leave until tomorrow. Short of a new case, you can all clock out then, since we’re currently between cases.” She turned to head back to her office and the stack of paperwork, but turned back around when Amanda spoke.

“Are you clocking out then too Cap? I know Noah’s at that sleepover. You shouldn’t stay late finishing paperwork anymore if we aren’t.” Her detective’s voice was concerned, and she realized just how much her stress and worry over the last three months must have shown, despite how hard she tried to hide it.

“Yes, he’s already called me to say goodnight, because apparently they will be too busy the rest of the night with sleepover stuff to worry about me. But don’t worry, I’m clocking out then too. Even if that pile of paperwork is only going to grow when you all turn in your paperwork.” She turned again, hoping to make it into her office before anyone thought too hard about her clocking out when she didn’t have to, but Fin’s teasing voice told her she was too late.

“You? Clock out early when you don’t have Noah waiting at home? What’s up? You got yourself a hot date or something?”

She was a Captain. Had been a police officer for over twenty years. She’d had to keep her cool when being questioned on the stand by lawyers all the time. But she knew, she knew, that she couldn’t hide the hitch in her step or the slight wince as he asked his question. Even as she turned back around, her face carefully blank, she knew he’d caught her. “Date? No, I don’t have a date. Who would I even have a date with?” Internally, she winced again as she heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Elliot Stabler tell her that asking that many questions just made her sound defensive, and therefore all the more suspicious. Registering the varying degrees of shock on the three’s faces, she smirked to herself for surprising them at least.

“Oh, I don’t know. A certain Detective, maybe? I saw you two together at the ceremony, off in your own little world by the water. Almost like old times, ‘cept the flirting was a little too obvious.”

Trying to control the embarrassed flush she could feel, she internally cursed. She’d hoped everyone had been too preoccupied to pay attention to her and Elliot, but knew that had probably been too much to hope for. She knew the rumor mill had picked right back up when he’d returned, and people realized they were talking again. “Alright, yes, I’m meeting Elliot for dinner. But it’s not a date. We’re just going to do some catching up over Chinese. We haven’t really had much time to just talk since he came back.” She ignored the pointed look he shot her, and appreciated that Amanda and Kat at least pretended not to be interested, as she finally made it back into her office. She heard his footsteps though, saw him shut the door behind him as she sat down behind her desk.

“You sure about this? I just don’t want you getting hurt. Don’t forget, I was here when he left.” She could see the worry clouding his face, and resigned to give him the truth. After all, he’d been there for it all.

“I’m sure. We’re…Taking things slow. We’ve talked, and while neither one of us is ready to just jump straight into a relationship, we’ve discussed it, and have agreed that’s where we’re heading. So we flirt some, and we spend time together, and we talk. We’re not defining it yet. I know it sounds like dating, and maybe in a way it is. But what’s important to us is rekindling our friendship, first and foremost. We’ve already talked about why he left, how he left. And I’ve told him not only what it did to me, but I’ve told him what he missed. He was…Devastated. It turns out the whole family was in France at the time, and by the time the kids came back, it had already become old news. He swore he would have come back had he known, and I believe him. I’d always wondered if he’d just stopped caring, but if you’d seen how he looked, you’d have had to believe him too. So yes, I’m sure about this. We’re going to take things slow for now, but we know where we’re going to end up, even if we aren’t sure when that will happen. Speaking of Elliot though, I’m going to take a few personal days next week to help him get moved into his new place. He gets the keys on Sunday, and his furniture comes Monday.”

He still looked a little worried, but she could tell he would take her at her word. “If you say so. I have to say, I’m surprised you guys already talked about that. But I’m glad. You deserve to be happy Liv, and I think he’ll make you happy. And don’t worry, I’ll cover next week for you. And I’ll let the others know you’ll be taking some time, and make sure they don’t ask you any questions.” He turned and left the office, leaving the door open behind him as he went back to his desk, stopping to talk to Amanda and Kat on his way.

Putting her glasses on and picking up her pen, she smiled to herself as she went back to her paperwork. She still had a lot to work through before it was time to head out, though she was hoping the anticipation would make the time pass faster. Afterall, it wasn’t every day she got to head home to a hot meal and an even hotter man, not that she’d tell him that. His ego was already inflated enough.

#olivia x elliot #law and order fanfiction #olivia x elliot fanfiction #law and order: svu #law and order: oc #fanfiction

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Note

Since your last post implied it I would love to know about your AU recommendations ❤ I am obsessed too!! Thanks in advance 🙏🏻

hello! I hope you don’t mind if I just make a basic list of some of the AU stories I have read or want to read. Not in any order I just went through my bookmarks on AO3 :) Also I need to read more...Under the cut because it got too long!

Angel's Wild (not gonna lie this is my favorite fic. I have read this almost a dozen times now)

Summary: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Checked Out

Summary: Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

A Ghost Story

Summary: Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Patient Love

Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. How do you deal with losing half of yourself when your whole life always revolved around the two of you, like yin and yang and black and white? How do you deal with a broken soul and old demons looming over you with no one to hold you back anymore?

After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator and more than a dozen deployments in both Afghanistan and Iraq, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. When he learns about his friend Jimmy’s death, Dean makes his way back to Kansas with his heart in his throat and broken pieces at his feet.

Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Unbroken

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

While You Were Sleeping

Summary: A Destiel version of While You Were Sleeping! Castiel is alone and floundering. He has a crush on one of the passengers who passes through his subway station every morning. When the man gets pushed onto the tracks, Cas saves him. But when they get to the hospital there's a mix up and Cas finds himself engaged to a complete stranger. Enter, the rest of the family, including big brother Dean. How will Cas navigate the relationship with his supposed future in-laws? What will he do when Sam finally wakes up? And why can't he stop thinking about Dean?

Purgatory, director's cut

Summary: this doesn’t have a summary but it is dean and cas in purgatory and it’s soooo cool! I promise it’s amazing and worth the read!

Basic Lessons in First Aid, Magical or Otherwise

Summary: Most people probably wouldn’t take the naked, heavily wounded man they found in an alley home with them. Most people probably wouldn’t also offer that man a place to stay and become his best friend after realizing he’s suffering from an intense case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. Most people probably wouldn’t then risk almost everything they know to save said man, and maybe save the world in the process.

But then again, Dean Winchester, RN (with a specialty in supernatural care), has never been like most people. He may not have a magical bone in his body, unlike his brother Sam, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help. Even if Castiel has questionable opinions about Star Trek.

What Greater Gift

Summary: Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

From a prompt found on Tumblr. Saw this and I couldn't resist a Destiel AU, and I've been wanting to write Witch!Cas for ages.

I know when you go down all your darkest roads

Summary: Dean and Castiel go undercover as a couple going through therapy, in order to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain.

They end up going through a lot more than a case, unfolding feelings left untold for so long, discovering parts of each other they never intended to uncover.

But will the feelings raging inside them be enough to bring their walls down?

A Fish Out of Water

Summary: To tie up the loose ends of a hunt, Dean is forced to go undercover and visit Brock Pleasure Ranch, a horrifying establishment that markets its inhabitants to people with ‘monstrous’ tastes.

It should have been a simple thing, to persuade a mer to give him a few scales for a spell. All part of the usual Winchester byline: saving people, hunting things.

But Castiel is far less of a ‘thing’ than Dean expected. He might not be human, but he’s definitely a person. And that means he needs saving, too.

The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Chlamydia

Summary: Dean doesn't expect to see his one night stand again, but then again he also doesn't expect to find out he has an STD. Sometimes life is hilarious like that.

Just as lost as I

Summary: Dean's been in love with Castiel for centuries. He keeps it buried, never letting himself get too close, but when Castiel goes missing he doesn't hesitate. He's going to find him if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Love Bites

Summary: Cas Novak graduated with a 4.0 in Mathematics, but not even Naomi Novak’s money could help him at job interviews. Anxious and dissatisfied with life, at nearly thirty he’s still washing dishes in the back of his best friend Hannah’s café.Until one night when his cat drags an injured bat into his apartment.

Dean may be a vampire, but he’s not an asshole (well, not much.) He feels like he owes the awkward guy for rescuing him from the cat’s clutches, so he sets about changing Cas's life.

A silly story about families who aren’t quite what they seem, fake boyfriends, and falling in love with someone who’s never, technically, met you.

The Bad Cop, Worse Cop Adventures of Freckles and Feathers

Summary: Miami. A place with beaches, babes, palm trees, and a growing drug-fueled crime organization. To help combat the drugs littering the streets, Captain Singer puts together a Tactical Narcotics Team composed of Miami's two finest and fearless officers. Charming casanova Dean Winchester has fought tooth and nail, rising through the ranks for this position. Trench coat toting Castiel Novak knows more hand-to-hand combative techniques than he does people skills. Between Dean's big mouth and Castiel's take-no-shit attitude, their introductory meeting ends on a less than stellar note and a couple of hard to shake nicknames.

After six months of partnership, the nicknames have stuck and so has the sexual tension. When a murder in the middle of the night launches their biggest lead on a cleverly evasive drug lord, Dean is shocked to find Sam at the center of it. Sam comes clean with his involvement and Charlie, their witness, seeks revenge against the man responsible for killing her friend. As the stakes rise higher so do Dean’s feelings putting everything in jeopardy. Is a cop with everything to prove, a cop with everything to lose, one computer hacker witness, and a damn good ADA enough to save the day?

The Care and Feeding of Castiel

Summary: Dean’s quiet time in the bunker is interrupted by some stranger-than-usual behavior from his angel. Oh, and feathers...there are a lot of those, too.

First Gentleman Wanted

Summary: President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

The Graveyard Shift

Summary: Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

The Path of Fireflies

Summary: After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Summary: Heaven is white.Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.-Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

Doing this made me realize I need to read more longer fics. I usually just read the short ficlets on tumblr but I need to broaden my horizon and read more. But yes! These are the AU’s currently in my bookmarks. Hope you find one to enjoy :)

#fic rec #answering the q's #lalisfandoms

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aliveanddrunkonsunlight · 4 years

Note

Date tag - January 28

January 28 - Angst with Confessions

Author’s Note: So one of my weird, obsessive interests is war correspondents. I’ve read lots of books by them and lots of articles, including this amazing one about female war correspondents. There really was a “reporter hotel” outside Baghdad during the various wars in Iraq, which is oft cited as being a place that is falling apart and may suffer from rubble from bombings and blackouts, but offered an array of black market booze for the reporters. I really admire war and conflict correspondents, so I hope I don’t make light of the harrowing situations they put themselves through in order to do their jobs well. Also, this was oddly inspired by a convo with @theunpaidcritic about reporter!AUs for JB.

Slightly NSFW.

***

“Fuck, Hyle, how many times do I have to tell you? Your job is to send our editor the photos we choose together. Not your favorites.”

Jaime looks across the crowded hotel ballroom, where Brienne’s usually calm voice is raised above the normal level of ruckus of the room. At any given time, the Orange Coast Hotel, is a temporary home to numerous reporters and photographers from across the known world who cover the war raging in the Disputed Lands and beyond.

The nearby conflict has not left the hotel unharmed, and at any given time, there are bombings and blackouts. Correspondents hunker down in the ballroom, swearing over stories or taking calls on their various phones, both the slim mobiles if there’s service available, and the chunky satellite phones when in an emergency, which for them means a deadline.

Brienne sorts out whatever issue she’s having with her colleague after more raised voices and wild hand gestures, before she huffs across the room and sits down next to him. “I don’t know why you put up with him,” he says calmly.

“He has a lot of conflict experience,” she sighs, her voice a near grumble.

“But you don’t get along. In this line of work, you need someone who has your back, and not just with your editor.”

Brienne narrows her eyes at him and takes a swig from Jaime’s half finished glass of whiskey. “It’s only a six week assignment. I’ll make do.”

The first time he met Brienne, he called her too innocent to be a war correspondent. She’d been green, he hadn’t been wrong about that, but she found her footing quickly. Brienne scarcely backed down--not from her editors or a story--and over the years, their admiration for each other had only grown. Reporting on conflict and trauma made you bond quickly, and sometimes in unhealthy ways, with your colleagues. “You could come work with me,” he offers easily.

“I already want to kill Hyle,” she grouses, running a hand through her hair. “You think that wouldn’t apply to you?”

Jaime chuckles. “Probably doubly so.”

She allows a small smile at that. “Where’s Dacey?”

“Off on a world tour,” he shrugs, but catches Brienne’s worried gaze. “She’s having a tough time, after what happened in Qohor. So she’s taking a break. A long one.”

“So you’re out here by yourself?” He sent in his photos an hour ago, but prefers to stay in the midst of the fray rather than return to the quiet of his room. He nods. “That isn’t safe, Jaime.” Her hand falls to his knee and he tries not to think of all the times they’d turned to each other for comfort. This godsforsaken place.

“It’s alright,” he replies, a little too cavalierly. Brienne’s blue eyes slice through him, practiced and observant.

It’s practically a rite of passage at the Orange Coast Hotel: reporters and photographers drinking heavily and then winding up in each other’s rooms. Some of those nights have destroyed long distance relationships, a few marriages, but never, as far as she knows, anyone’s career. War reporters are far too proficient at being damaged. They might fuck a colleague, but their moral obligation is to tell the story, to let people know of the world’s horrors and injustices, to challenge them not to look away.

So when Jaime shows up at Brienne’s room after midnight, she’s hardly surprised. He steps into her arms without so much as a hello and then her hands are undoing his belt, and fuck, she’s forgotten how fun it is. It feels wrong to say she missed this, but it rises up on her tongue all the same, Jaime kissing her in reply. He fucks her, Brienne bent over, her hands against the wall. When she drags him to bed, they slow things down, the closest to loving she’s ever had.

Afterwards, he falls asleep, his soft snores keeping her company as she lies awake, wondering what it would be like to work together. Jaime is the best in his field, and has been since before she graduated. Brienne never told him that when she was still in university, he came to give a lecture on war photography. All the other girls were swooning over his brooding nature, his devil may care smile, but she thought he was full of himself, and he proved her right the first time they met in a conflict zone. Never meet your idols, she remembers thinking, and now, she sleeps beside him, trying to puzzle together when she may have fallen in love with him.

In the morning, she’s surprised to find him there with coffee, orange juice, and toast brought up from the bar downstairs. His camera bag is by the door. “You don’t even carry a suitcase now?” she teases, starting to reach over him for a piece of toast, but he snags her wrist and to her surprise, pulls her down onto his lap, kissing her. “Jaime, is everything okay?” They’ve never done this. The morning after. At most, they would give each other a nod or wave in the hotel lobby, one or both of them with bags under their eyes.

“I have to go to the Painted Mountains for a couple weeks,” he tells her, voice gravelly and still thick from sleep. “But when I get back we should talk about this.”

Brienne blinks, thinking she’s dreaming it. “About what?”

“You and I,” he chuckles, his green eyes twinkling.

“Working together?” she asks, confused.

“Brienne.” He says, exasperated, but he’s laughing, and then leaning in for another kiss, longer this time. Oh. Her hand tentatively traces his cheek, skin weathered from the time spent outdoors in the desert sun, her fingertips burning over his scruff.

When they pull apart, Brienne nearly laughs, she’s scarcely felt this happy. “Why now?” They’ve been doing this for years.

“Why not now?” he replies, not giving much away, but understanding slowly dawns on his face. She wants a real answer. “Because I miss you when you’re gone.”

A warmth pulses through her, realizing the kernel of truth in what she said last night. Brienne doesn’t just miss the sex, their connection. She misses him, she misses them, when they’re apart, each off on assignment. “I miss you, too.” He wraps his arms around her then, Brienne resting her chin on the top of his head. “You’re coming back here in two weeks?” Jaime nods.

She and Hyle return to the hotel after a long day. Covered in dust and mud and possibly blood, all she wants is to take a shower, but Brienne stops in the middle of the lobby when she sees Catelyn Tully at the hotel front desk, looking frazzled. Her heart rate picks up. Why would Jaime’s editor be here if he’s not due back for another week? It’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other, but Brienne steps over to where the older woman is standing. “Catelyn, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Brienne, thank gods. I’m trying to find someone to take me to Slaver’s Bay. Jaime is in the hospital there.” Everything happens in slow motion after that. Catelyn must lead her over to one of the lobby’s couches, because that’s where she finally returns to herself, a stiff drink in her hand. “You didn’t hear?” She shakes her head. “There was an ambush in Khyzai Pass. He was with the company under attack.”

“Khyzai Pass?” It was incredibly dangerous, much more so than the Painted Forest.

“I didn’t know either,” the older woman says, her tone somber. “I wouldn’t have let him go.”

Jaime’s sudden need for clarification about their relationship takes on a new meaning and Brienne curses herself for being so stupid. “I should have realized.” The whole area is in such tumult that for years, Slaver’s Bay has been cut off from most means of transportation. The only way they might be able to reach Jaime is by boat, but traversing the straits of Valyria would take days. “Did you talk to the hospital?”

Catelyn nods, her face pale. “They said he was stable, but he’d lost a lot of blood. He...his hand got hurt. There may be nerve damage.”

She nods, her throat thick with emotion, tears welling up in her eyes. If he couldn’t take photos, Jaime wouldn’t want to live. An urgency rises up in her chest. “We have to get to him.”

A shadow falls across the two of them, and Brienne looks up to find Sandor Clegane looming. “I can take you there.”

They spend the next two days in an armored Jeep, barely stopping, but Clegane is true to his word, they breeze through checkpoints, and Brienne can barely thank him before she’s racing through the hospital corridors, a name echoing in each heartbeat. Jaime Jaime Jaime.

#jaime x brienne #war correspondents au #date tag writing meme #sometimes my brain is an odd place

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zewninz · 4 years

Text

Dialogue Prompts #2

(italic/bold-colored texts = different person)

1. I only have one emotion and it’s anger. Last night you drunk-texted me a hundred heart emojis. Out of anger.

2. I don’t have time to explain how wrong you are . . . actually, it’s going to bother me if I don’t—

3. *name*, I started seeing someone. As in dating or hallucinations?

4. You know what 'fine' stands for? Fucked up, insecure, needy, and emotional.

5. Hey, *name*, I just got home. Where are you guys? The hospital . . . What? Why? *name* swallowed a watermelon seed. So? It’s not like it’s going to start growing in their stomach. . . . we’ll be home in ten minutes.

6. Today, I'm going to show you how not to be a noob at Fortnite.

7. Can we please stop saying the word 'sugar daddy'? Glucose guardian.

8. Have you ever considered . . . not breathing?

9. Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly. Honestly, fuck you.

10. I've spent far too long doing this damn makeup to start fucking crying right now.

11. Everyone, hold your horses! Hold them close, cherish them— What? I don’t know, I haven’t slept in three days.

12. I love your eyes, but I love my eyes more because without mine, I can't see yours.

13. Take me to art museums and make out with me. But they said to not touch the masterpieces. That was the smoothest shit I've ever heard.

14. I look at *name* and I just . . . it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes.

15. Question is; do I stay in bed or get out of it? Both. You get out of bed and get in mine. Why are you suddenly so smooth, I—

16. I can't talk to cute people, okay? I don't know how to fucking flirt!

17. Do you guys realize that we never stop tasting our own tongues? How about I taste yours for a change? That was smooth as fuck.

18. How many fucks do I give? Oh, yeah, zero. Therefore your comment is irrelevant.

19. Fuck you. If you want, go ahead.

20. Being single sucks. Maybe we should just marry each other.

21. I'm going to shower. Pfft, I don't get an invite?

22. I'm no longer a human being. I identify as a chicken nugget.

23. What's your favorite thing about me? Probably your smile. Seriously? Okay, fine, I love how you can kill a man in only two seconds.

24. My microwave is smarter than you.

25. Aside from cooking, what basic life skills do I not have? Oh, *name* . . . I’m not sure we have time for that.

26. Alright, guys, this doesn't have to be a big deal. Whoever ate my muffin, come forward and all will be forgiven. *nobody does* Smart. You knew I would never forgive you.

27. They’re tiny mints that live in a plastic prison. . . . I said let’s talk TACTICS.

28. I think your cat wants to kill me.

29. I can't believe we're finally here, I never thought we'd make it. Oh, for fuck's sake, my driving isn't that bad.

30. You don't need to kill off any more brain cells.

31. On a scale from 'Damnnnn, Daniel' to 'Fre sha voc ado', how are you feeling? It's between, 'It's an avocado, thanks!' and 'how did you defeat Captain America?', but as a solid answer I would say, 'I don't need no degree to be a clothing hanger'. How about you? Probably 'road work ahead'.

32. My number one rule is ignoring everything you said.

33. Why do you guys hate each other? We do not! It's just . . . if you offered me 500 dollars to stab him, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd do it for 5 bucks.

34. Shut up, your IQ's probably lower than a fly's.

35. Water can solve many problems. Want to lose weight? Drink water. Clear skin? Drink water. Get rid of someone you hate? Drown them. *name*, no!

36. Sorry, the wind must've blown away all my fucks.

37. When life gives you lemons, you— Squeeze them into your enemy's eyes as you watch them suffer in agony, while you squeeze more lemons so they can't see. *name*, no!

38. I wouldn't call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.

39. I accidentally ate *name*'s muffin . . . how much time left do you think I get to live? Ten. Ten what? Nine . . .

40. You're going to burn in a very special level in hell—a level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.

41. Don't break someone's heart, they only have one. Yeah, break their bones. They have 206 of those.

42. I'm listening to you, I'm just not paying attention.

43. You fell and hit your head. Do you remember anything? Uh . . . only the ambulance ride to the hospital. That wasn't an ambulance . . . But I hear a siren? Oh, that was *name*. He was screaming all the time. I was worried!

44. Oh, but sweetheart, you already look like a fool.

45. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, are you awake yet? Fuck off. That sounds like a yes to me.

46. Since my dog likes you, then I guess I like you too.

47. Alright, *name*, what does a yellow light mean? Slow down. No, it means ‘speed up, red is coming’.

48. Why did you two stop? Keep flirting.

49. You’re useless. Not totally. I can be used as a bad example.

50. I'm sorry, did you just order fifty pieces of McNuggets for here, for all yourself?

(I don’t own any of these. Credit to their respective creators. I simply made a list.)

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supernatural-freek · 4 years

Text

Knife To My Throat

Dean x Sister!Reader, Sam x Sister!Reader

Synopsis: Hello! I have a very angsty request!!! Winchesters x sister!reader. The reader is the boy's half sibling and always seems to be forgotten. She goes through memories of them forgetting about her for early years to present. [Never picked up from school, left behind on a hunt, having to clean up after them,stuck with research,chores,ect.] It makes her snap when she was put in a life threatening situation[kidnapped for a couple of months] and they didn't even notice she was not in the bunker.

NOTE: This is a lot sadder than I thought it would be, I’m so sorry. I’m also sorry if this wasn’t quite what you were looking for but once I started I couldn’t stop and- I mess around with the ages too, so don't worry about the canon ages.

There is a trigger warning for this one. It’s not the happiest of one shots.

REQUESTED

MASTERLIST

Your life passes in snapshots.

You’re 12, the product of something between your mom and a man whose two sons stare at you with blatant resentment. You’ve slandered something, soiled someone’s image or reputation. They’ve come to your school, you see, and they know who you are. They don’t take you with them when they leave, and you’re not sad to see them go.

When you tell your mom that the Winchester boys can’t possibly be your brothers, she laughs sadly until she starts crying and holds you tightly throughout the night.

She dies when you’re 14, two years after Sam and Dean had taken one look at you and decided that didn’t want you. Someone contacts John, and you hear the Impala before you see it. It’s a majestic beast, big and proud and growling. You desperately want to touch it.

John does’t let you stay for the funeral. He’s not being cruel, he’s just gotta get back to something. You sit in the back with Sam while Dean sits in the front with John.

“I don’t really hate you,” Sam whispers, sneaking you a lolly. You take it shyly. Sam smiles. “I’m Sam.”

“I know,” you say, and his smile grows instead of wavering, and you know that things won’t be too bad if Sam’s around.

Sam leaves when you’re 16, a teenage girl who’s prone to flinching at sudden movements but can stand next to a firing gun and have a spine of steel. Sam storms out the front door in a flurry of anger and deadly hate. John shouts something about not coming back, and Sam shouts back that he doesn’t care, and then the door slams.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

Dean comes to your bed that night, wordlessly asking for comfort. You roll over and let him lie next to you before you’re cuddling in to his side and crying as silently as you can. Dean’s body shakes, but the darkness hides if he’s got tears too. You fall asleep like that, and when you wake up, Dean’s already moving around the room and there’s no way to tell if last night had been real.

When you, Dean and John pile into the Impala, you think that it’s awful lonely in the backseat.

You miss your brother.

You’re almost 18 when you and John have your first real fight. You’ve argued before, fuck knows John can’t be around another living thing without arguing with it, but this time there’s a slap from you and a threat from him and Dean has to step in the middle.

He picks John over you.

You can’t say it doesn’t hurt, but it’s expected. You stare at them, so alike in their feelings and their actions and their pain, and you scoff and shake your head and say, “I hate this family.”

“You aren’t hunting, Y/N, and that’s final!”

“And why not?” You shout back, and Dean groans because here you both go again. It’s the same argument you’ve just finished, but the anger is still rippling under your skin so you don’t walk away. “Am I just some glorified nurse? Here to clean up the messes?”

“You weren’t supposed to be my responsibility,” John seethes. He’s said it before. It doesn’t really hurt much anymore. “I’ve already lost Sam because of this life. I won’t lose you too.”

You give up fighting. It’s too tiring. You can’t be bothered.

When you’re 19, Dean comes back half-dead and without John.

You keep calm and stitch him back together again, going through too much alcohol and too many strips of cloth. You run out of dental floss for stitches, but you make fucking do, because if Dean dies on your watch, you may as well die too.

He’s not coherent the whole time he’s with you, mumbling about ghouls and blood and John, but you can’t spare a second to worry about John now, not if you want Dean to live. You manhandle him, pretending that he’s just drunk and not concussed and bleeding out.

“Fuck you,” you hiss at him as you cover him with the sheets on the bed, sitting by his side as he sinks into a troubled sleep. “You problematic fuck.”

John doesn’t come back until three days later. He’s not horribly injured, but the claw mark on his chest has smeared blood all over his front and he looks like death incarnate. He sees Dean, still unconscious on the bed, and grunts, settling into the seat at the table and closing his eyes.

“Fucking ghoul,” he sighs, and then you’re attacking him with whatever medical supplies you have left.

Dean wakes up the next day, takes the keys, and drives you and John far away from that little town. You never tell him that you left your story book on the bedside table.

It had been the last thing you’d had of your mothers.

You’re 22 when Sam truly settles back into hunting.

You know he misses Jess, know that he’s got too much weight on his shoulders, know that he wants to find Dad just so he can go back to pretending he doesn’t miss his old life. But he settles into it after a while, sitting in the front seat with Dean.

It’s still lonely in the back.

You’re 23 when John dies.

Dean and Sam are without injuries. You have a broken arm that doesn’t get properly treated before you’re leaving the hospital in the dust, the taste of ash still on your tongues.

Everything goes to shit when you’re 24. There’s something about Sam, him being a Chosen One, and Dean says that John had wanted him to kill your brother, and it’s all so confusing. You know about the visions, and you trust the visions, but then Sam and the other kids like him are mutating into something else and you’re afraid.

You know it’s the Demon, good old Yellow-Eyes, but you don’t matter to him. You don’t matter to anybody. Bobby sees you sometimes, but that’s because Bobby is an old soul in an old body and knows what it is to be in the background.

Ellen sees you too, but only because you remind her of Jo. “Don’t let them boys walk all over you,” Ellen tells you one day, when you’re sitting at the counter at the Roadhouse after the boys had taken off on one of their adventures without remembering you. “Honey, you aren’t a doormat.”

“I’m not much of anything,” you tell her and then you finish your beer and motion for another.

You’re 25 when Sam dies and Dean sells his soul and leaves you with two brothers who are forever tainted with the cold tang of death.

Dean shoots the Demon.

You’re 25 when you look at schooling options for adults.

The Hellhounds come for Dean sometime after you turn 26, and you have nightmares about Sam’s cries and Dean’s blood until you have to start taking extreme measures, like pills and alcohol and concussions.

You and Sam crash at Bobby’s house once, and you sleep easier than you have since your brother went to Hell.

When you wake up, Sam is gone and he doesn’t come back. Bobby looks at you with pitiful eyes, but you keep your head down and make yourself a list of permanent chores to do just so you have a purpose and won’t have to kill yourself.

Dean comes back while you’re still 26. You’ve given up on schooling, which is good, because Dean wants to look for Sam, and you have to scramble to get in the back seat of the Impala before he takes off with a squeal of the tires.

Bobby sits in the front. It’s not any less lonely in the back. You seem to care less now, and you wonder if it’s because the nightmares have sucked out your soul and no you’re just hollow and beaten and sad, and you don’t care anymore that your brothers don’t really care about you.

Sam causes the Apocalypse. You’re turning 28 the next day.

You meet Cas when you’re 28, but you aren’t important so he doesn’t see you. The angels don’t see you, your brothers don’t see you, and Bobby loses sight of you somewhere along the way. You slip through the cracks.

You go on a hunt on your own and it goes fine.

You’re disappointed that you don’t die.

You’re 29 when Sam jumps in the Pit with Lucifer and Michael. Cas isn’t God, and you aren’t important enough for anybody to take as leverage. Zachariah had taken Adam and Sam, but he hadn’t taken you and that should tell you to quit while you’re ahead, but you’ve already decided you’re a lot cause with school and there’s nowhere else for you to go.

Dean goes to Lisa and Ben. Cas disappears. You float around and you pretend you have purpose. You think your name becomes a legend amongst the hunters. Something about you being a ghost, here one moment and gone the next.

You’re too cold to cry, really.

You’re 30 when you attempt to kill yourself and fail.

Nobody comes to get you until you’re 32. Sam loses and gains his soul in that time. There’s someone named Samuel. There’s Alpha monsters and Death and walls in minds that shatter far too easily, and then Cas is the new God, but he’s sick.

You run into the boys on a hunt. Dean says your name with the reverence of someone who has seen God and laughed. He talks to you, and it’s nice, and then he tells you about Leviathans and Cas and your heart breaks and you crawl into the back seat of the Impala and stare out the window.

Hunters still talk about the Ghost.

Dean doesn’t know that it’s you.

You’re 33 when Dean and Cas go to Purgatory, and you’re 34 when Dean comes back.

You’re 33 when Cas comes back, too.

You’re 35 when Metatron casts the angels out of Heaven and Sam fails the Trials. It’s a mess, but there’s Kevin and the Bunker, and the angels falling look like dying stars and it’s oddly beautiful.

Kevin likes you. It’s strange because Kevin doesn’t really like anybody else. You think that its nice to be seen, but then there’s Crowley and demons and your brothers are important again and you quietly make enough food that nobody stares and clean up afterwards.

Your room stays bare. Nobody comments. You don’t think Sam or Dean could point out which room you claimed as your own anyway.

You’re 37 when Dean gets the Mark of Cain. It’s scary and it makes him into something harsher and more unstable. You try and keep quiet around him, because he seems almost hyper-aware of you now and he keeps eyeing you.

You make food and you do beer runs because that’s the role that they accept, and that’s the role you know. Charlie braids your hair once. It feels like something a sibling would do.

The Darkness brings Mary back when you’re 38.

Mary looks at you once, understands who you are and what you represent, and then she turns to her boys and smiles. You are 39 years old in a world that doesn’t want you, and you’re invisible to everybody in the damn room.

You can’t harbour any anger for Mary though.

You’re just so unbearably tired.

You’re on the cusp of turning 39 when someone steals you off the road when you’re waiting for the boys to come out from questioning a witness. You don’t know who they are, but you know they want information on your brothers, they want someone to experiment with.

They want a hunter.

They want the Ghost.

Torture becomes old soon enough, so they play mind games. It takes them a while to adapt to your apathy though, but once they understand that forcing you to imagine your brothers being nice hurts more than making you think they hated you, things get going.

You don’t talk. But you hurt.

You hurt, you hurt, you hurt.

You’re 39 when you make your escape, killing everybody there and returning to the Bunker covered in blood and wounds and you are afraid.

“What the fuck,” Dean says in a tight voice as you stumble down the stairs. Cas is already charging towards you, a glowing hand held out. You flinch away. but he’s persistent, and your wounds close slowly. “Y/N?”

Sam stares at you with wide eyes. You stare back without saying anything. Cas gently brushes his hand over your shoulder. You croak miserably and he pulls away.

“Where were you?” Dean asks.

(You’re 39 when you realise that nobody had noticed you were gone.)

You turn away, intent on going back to your plain little room, but someone holds your arm and you can’t take the touch. “Stop,” you beg and whoever is holding you lets you go.

“What-” Sam gets cut off by the guttural wail that rips from your throat.

“I was gone for months!” You seethe, voice cracking and rasping. You are 39 and you are breaking, breaking, breaking. “You didn’t come for me, you’ve never come for me.”

The Ghost, the Ghost, the Ghost.

“I am nothing and I am nobody, but I should have been somebody and you took that from me and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Cas reaches for you again. “Let me ease your troubles,” he says and fingers touch your forehead and nothing happens. “You are in too much pain.” he murmurs. “I am sorry.”

“So am I,” you whisper, and then you turn away from your brothers and you go to your plain little room.

You are 39 and half-Winchester when you press a gun to your temple and pull the fucking trigger.

#supernatural #supernatural dean #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural sam #supernatural angst #angst #sad #like seriously its sad #supernatural oneshot #request #sad supernatural imagines #supernatural imagine #sad supernatural one shots

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fidothefinch · 4 years

Text

Homeward Bound

For Whumptober Day 28: Mugged (because I am really late for the “lost” prompt and this is close enough).

Warnings: blood, injury, concussion, one moment of implied solicited child prostitution, homophobic slurs, police officers, briefly implied domestic abuse, briefly implied animal injury Despite the warnings, this is, like, mostly soft.

Read on AO3

“Hey, kid, I think you dropped something.”

When Damian turned, he was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He frowned, unimpressed with the ruse. “I do not carry such crude weapons on myself.”

The man jabbed the barrel of the gun forward, toward him. “Shut up or you’ll figure out just how much damage my crude weapons can do.”

Titus growled up at the man, and the man glanced down just long enough to lose his concentration. Damian sprang forward to attack.

- - - - - - - - -

Damian’s head was pounding. He groaned despite himself and tried to pry his eyes open. They wouldn’t focus as well as he would have liked, but he was pretty sure that he was not waking up anywhere familiar.

He took a moment to assess himself, before broadcasting his return to consciousness. There was a cool breeze running down his shirt, and moisture collected on the places where his bare skin had been touching the air. He wasn’t wearing his Robin gear; that narrowed things down, at least. He didn’t hear anybody near him, either, so risked opening his eyes.

Even as they fought to bring the world into focus, he couldn’t figure out where he was.

There were spindly branches above him, silhouettes against a rapidly-darkening sky. The air smelled of damp earth and decaying leaves; autumnal. He could hear birds chirping, all around him, the low hum of traffic beneath that. A lamppost somewhere past his feet flickered on.

He levered himself up with his elbows. He was sitting on a soft patch of ground. When he lifted a hand to his head to stop the beating there, he found dried blood and several blades of grass in his hair.

What the hell had happened?

He racked his memory, but the last thing he remembered was the taste of the orange juice he had had with breakfast. It was clearly the evening now, and the few people he saw around him were bustling homeward.

Home.

He should get home.

With some work, he managed to get himself all the way to his feet, not even needing more than a single tree to catch his balance when he wobbled on tingly legs. He had been out of it long enough to let his limbs fall asleep, at least.

He reached for his phone; Richard would be worried about him by now, surely. But when he got the device from his pocket, a pit dropped in his stomach. The screen was cracked, and when he tried to press the button on the side, it read “Critical Low Battery,” and turned off again.

He would never hear the end of this.

He sighed, tucking the phone back into his pocket so he could harvest its spare parts for later. He would just have to walk, then, until he found a bus stop – or train station – or ferry – that could take him home. And maybe he would figure out where he is, too.

The pavement he had woken next to stretched off in two directions, and he randomly chose one and walked. It wasn’t like it would make much difference, since he expected it to be a long night, anyway. But as he took his first few steps, he staggered sideways.

Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. His hand found the bleeding again, and with searching fingers he found a large knot on the back of his head, where the flesh had swelled. Looking around, it didn’t look like he had hit his head on the pavement, and there had not been a significant amount of blood in the grass where he had gotten up. Maybe he had hit his head, and moved before passing out?

It didn’t matter, now.

The air was getting colder, and he hadn’t brought a jacket with him. He didn’t want to spend the night outside, so he quickened his step.

A familiar tinkling followed him down the path. He turned, too abruptly for his failing sense of balance, and nearly fell into his loyal friend.

“Titus,” Damian breathed. The dog whined at him. He was limping, one of his front paws held up. Damian knelt next to the dog and took his injured paw. “What did you do?”

He carefully felt around the pad and found no thorns or irritants, but when he felt around the knee Titus yelped in pain.

Damian hushed him. “I apologize,” he whispered. He rose to his feet again. “I will have Pennyworth take a look at you when we return.” As he tried to rise, another wave of dizziness hit him, and he fell backward, nearly hitting his head again.

“Hey, kid!”

Damian whipped his head around to the source of the noise. A man was walking toward him, down the path. Damian hadn’t heard him approaching.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, then stopped short as he spotted the blood on Damian’s head. “Oh, man.”

Damian waved a hand over his shoulder flippantly and rose to his feet. “I am fine.” Gotham citizens weren’t usually so. . . hospitable, and Damian couldn’t help being suspicious of him. Damian would deal with this on his own. “I am on my way home.”

“Are your parents around? I don’t think you should be—”

A hand landed on Damian’s shoulder, and without thinking he tugged the man down and around into an arm lock. “Don’t touch me,” he warned.

The man’s breath caught. “Let go of me!”

Damian blinked, and he released the man’s hand. The man stood to his full height, rubbing his wrist where it had been bent at an awkward angle. His eyes were wide, now, with something like fear. “H-hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Damian stepped back unevenly, and Titus stepped in front of him. His ears pressed flat to his head and his teeth glinted in the light form the lamppost. A warning growl emitted from his muzzle.

The man, wisely, backed away, hands held high.

Damian watched him move away until he was satisfied with the distance between them. Then he clicked his tongue, and Titus’s posture shifted as he glanced back to Damian. “Come, Titus,” Damian called. He mustered enough energy to make his voice steady and commanding.

Titus gave one sharp bark to the man before turning tail and obediently following Damian down the opposite path.

They didn’t make it out of earshot before he heard the man pull his phone out. “Yeah, I’m Robinson Park. I think I’ve found a homeless kid.”

Damian wasn’t close enough to tell whether the man was calling the police, and he certainly didn’t want to be dragged into another kidnapping. He forced his feet to move faster, and he ran.

The man had said something about Robinson Park, right? That put Damian almost an hour’s walk from the penthouse, and that was assuming he was moving in the right direction.

He tried navigating with the stars, but there was too much light pollution; the one star he thought he had found turned out to be a plane.

“Where are we,” he asked Titus.

The dog huffed, but despite Damian’s greatest wish, was not able to respond.

Moving at all was better than staying in place. He would be able to figure out where he was when he got out of the park.

The walk felt like hours. Whether it was fatigue, or dehydration, or his concussion, the world would slant sideways occasionally, tripping him up until Titus’s warm flank would help steady him. His mouth was incredibly dry, and his stomach empty. He grimaced when they got too close to any lamplights, as the glow would make the icepick in his head dig harder. It was better that they stay away from the walking paths, anyway; as it grew dark, the people wandering the park became, in Richard’s words, “shadier.”

He could smell the road before he could see it. Hot asphalt, gasoline, and spent cigarettes wafted from beyond the tasteful brick ledge cornering the park from the rest of the city. The sun had set completely by the time he reached the road beyond.

He reached the sidewalk and peered up at the stared up at the street signs, trying to make sense of them. To his great frustration, his brain refused to make words from the letters. There were still a handful of cars idling at the stoplight. One of them blasted bass music loud enough Damian could feel it under his feet. The more tasteful lilt of classical music spilled out from a different car.

One car pulled up to the curb next to him. Damian couldn’t make out the shadowed face of the man driving, but he knew enough to be wary when he asked, “How much?”

Damian shook his head, despite how it made the world spin. As Robin, he would have taken him out on sight. As Damian, all he could react with was a “No,” as pointedly disgusted as he could make it.

“Faggot,” the man sneered.

Damian didn’t have time to reply before a cup burst against his chest, soaking his shirt and pants in ice-cold slush. His gasp was lost under the squeal of tires as the car pulled away. He didn’t have the thought to memorize his license plate until he was too far away.

The light was green, and cars raced by faster that Damian could track, though he was beginning to think that reflected more on himself than their driving habits. The movement paired with the sticky-sweet cherry smell from the ICEE was making him nauseous.

Titus licked the syrup from his bare wrist in commiseration. His tongue was warm against the cooling night air.

Damian shivered, the breeze from the handful of passing cars cooling his wet clothes even more. He needed to get inside soon, or he risked hypothermia.

He waited until there were no cars before crossing the street, and he walked another block, parallel to the park, before finding a small store and slipping inside.

The heat was a blessing, but the lighting was harsh enough he had to squint. Damian’s fingers tingled as they warmed up, and he perused the small aisles for something warm to wear for several minutes.

“No dogs.”

Damian looked up, and the cashier, who was the only other person in the store, had finally looked up from their magazine.

“He has excellent behavior,” he started.

She rolled her eyes. “Out.” She pointed toward the door.

Damian scowled. He wanted to protest more, but he couldn’t summon the brain power for it. “Very well.” He gave her his best glare on his way past.

Leaving the store was difficult, as the outside temperature felt even colder when he hadn’t had time to acclimate to it.

He shoved his numb hands in his wet pockets. His wallet was missing; he could not have purchased anything, anyway.

He voiced his thoughts out loud as he walked down the street, more to keep warm than with a destination in mind. “If my wallet is gone, somebody may have taken it,” he mused. “I may have been the victim of a mugging.” He felt for that tender place on his head again and winced. “Gone wrong.”

Titus loped along next to him, ears high and alert for any sign of danger.

Damian lost track of time and how many blocks he had walked before he spotted the bus stop. Inside the sheltered benches was a large map. “Titus, look,” he mumbled. Titus did not look, but wrapped himself around Damian’s legs, watching his six o’clock while Damian studied the graphic.

It took far too long for him to find the “You are Here” star, and then he couldn’t make sense of the rest of the lines and letters. They seemed to float around his point of focus, blurred around the edges.

“We’ve got him,” somebody said. A radio blipped. Acknowledged. Over.

Damian turned around when a shadow fell over him. It was a police officer, wearing a sympathetic smile. “Hey, kid.”

Damian didn’t reply, looking him up and down. When he saw his hand resting against where Damian knew his Taser to be, he tutted. “You are not going to Tase me, are you?”

The officer’s hand flexed, then relaxed, but didn’t move from the position. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”

Damian shook his head as much as he dared. “You are the one approaching me.” He turned back toward the map in dismissal.

“Got a name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Where are you headed?”

“None of your business.”

“Look,” and the officer stepped toward him, but Titus growled. “Somebody called in some kid acting confused and wandering the city.”

Damian’s shoulders tensed. “I am not confused.”

“Easy, there. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

Damian turned again and crossed his arms. He hated to admit it was more for the warmth than for the intimidation. “Please go on your way. I do not require your assistance.”

The officer whistled under his breath. “That’s a nice bruise you’ve got there. Did you get in a fight?”

Damian’s hand flew to a second, slightly less painful knot on his forehead, but it was too late. The officer had seen.

Damian had been there long enough. The last thing he needed was to be forced into a physical examination. Without saying anything, he moved to duck around the officer and excuse himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Wait a minute, young man.”

Damian stiffened, and the hold relaxed but didn’t release. “Titus, heel,” he commanded, stopping the pending attack. He gave the officer what he hoped was a measured look. “Let go of me.”

“Is there some place I can take you? Do you need a ride home?”

Damian hesitated, and the officer jumped on it. “I can give you a ride in the squad car. I’ll let you try the sirens.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but despite the patronizing, he asked, “and my dog?”

“We’ll call animal patrol to take him to a shelter, and you can go pick him up—”

“No.”

“He’ll be safe, you have my word.”

“Titus stays with me.” The dog sneered at the officer from where he sat by Damian’s feet, clearly still a threat should the officer choose to lunge.

The officer looked at the dog, and back up. He released Damian’s shoulder, and Damian would feel more relieved if it didn’t make him feel less steady on his feet. “If something happened at home, you can report it—”

“Nothing happened.” Not that he remembered, anyway. Damian’s chin rose. “I will return myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, son.”

Damian didn’t think; he bolted.

“Hey!” The officer shouted, giving chase.

Damian breathed harder, through the nausea and the pain flaring in his head. His blood was roaring in his ears. He demanded his body move faster.

Titus guided him, a second, ghostlier mirror-Titus weaving in and out of his body. The loyal dog stuck exactly to Damian’s pace so they wouldn’t lose each other. The streets at this pace looked more familiar, and Damian thought he recognized an alley opening ahead. “Left,” he directed, and Titus ducked into the alley, as instructed.

“We’ve got a runner.” He could hear the officer behind him huffing into his radio. “I’m going to need backup.” He was gaining ground; Damian was lagging.

He had just slipped into the alleyway when Titus pivoted around, barking angrily at the officer.

“Titus,” Damian wheezed. The world spun around him, and he had to brace himself against a grimy brick wall. “Come here.”

But the dog ignored him. In fact, Titus suddenly lunged forward, out of his sight, and the officer shouted.

Titus yelped.

“No,” Damian moaned.

He had to keep running. He couldn’t let the officer take him. He couldn’t remember why, but there had been a reason. . .

He stumbled down the alley, turning blindly around corners until he found himself back out on a dark street. There were a few lights on in the windows above him, but not a soul in sight.

Damian’s head felt like it would split in two, like there was a wedge being driven between the hemispheres of his brain with every thump of his heart. He squinted through the darkness until he made out the shape of stairs, leading down toward a basement floor and locked door. It would at least get him out of the wind.

He got two steps down before he tripped over his own feet, flipping down the last six.

He allowed himself to groan at the bottom, feeling all the new places that stung and throbbed.

He must have hit his head again, because he had to blink black spots out of his eyes as he half-crawled, half-dragged himself (his arm, at least, was definitely broken) to the corner under the stairs.

He curled his knees up and tucked his head down, conserving as much body heat as possible.

He blacked out.

Something wet was tugging on his face.

Damian scrunched his nose. There was still a dull ringing in his ears.

No.

That was whining.

Prying his eyelids open felt more difficult than lifting the Batmobile. The world swayed, and he immediately had to shut them again.

“Titus,” he whispered. And it did not sound like a whine. “I am alright.”

Titus continued licking his face, nuzzling his nose underneath Damian’s arms so he could get a better look.

“Damian?”

Damian tensed.

“Damian!”

There were feet pounding down the short stairway. “Alfred! I found him!”

Damian winced at the noise. It was much, much too loud.

“Damian,” Richard breathed again. His voice dropped into something much softer. “Can you look at me?”

Damian lifted his head with gargantuan effort, and lifted his eyelids again.

Richard’s face swam into focus, a deep wrinkle in his forehead. He gasped, when he saw the lump on Damian’s forehead. “What happened to you?” he asked. His hand rose to the lump’s twin on the back of his head and lightly brushed away some of the grime.

It had grown more tender since last night. Like it had opened a floodgate, Damian was suddenly bombarded with all of the aches and pains of the night before. His left arm and head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, slightly syncopated.

Richard clicked his tongue, and leaned back to shout up the stairs. “He hit his head.”

“Oh, dear.” Pennyworth must have been standing at the higher level, but Damian couldn’t look that high up for fear of getting lost in the nausea. “And he is soaking wet. I will fetch a change of clothes from the car.”

As Pennyworth’s voice got distant, Richard leaned in closer. “We’re going to get you home, okay?” He didn’t wait for Damian to acknowledge him; he slipped his arms under Damian’s knees and behind his back and lifted him smoothly. “It’s okay.”

Damian tutted, but even he could admit it lacked his usual passion.

Richard tucked Damian’s head under his chin as he walked up the stairs, and though it was an awkward angle Damian was thankful for the body heat he was able to absorb from it.

Titus followed right at Dick’s feet, not taking his big brown eyes off Damian for a second. He was still limping.

Richard must have caught him looking, because he explained, “Animal Control found the chip, called us out here to pick him up. He wouldn’t stop whining until we followed him.”

Damian reached down to pat Titus’s head with his good hand. “Good boy, Titus.”

Pennyworth fussed over him until he was in clean, dry clothes. The heat was already blasting in the car, and Damian immediately felt himself melting into the seat beneath him.

Richard would not let go. Titus collapsed in his lap in a furry, warm heap.

Damian wouldn’t have it any other way. He was finally home.

#whumptober #no. 28 #mugged #fic #dc #damian wayne #a boy and his dog #fido writes #titus the dog

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