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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months ago

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trolley problem

in which fem!reader has been gambling with her life and spencer reid is more than a little concerned

flangst, hurt/comfort warnings/tags: passive suicidal ideation from reader, she keeps risking her life, that really grinds Spencer’s gears, established relationship, existential dread, existential euphoria, lots of stuff about grief and death and self worth, not advocating for this, pretension from the author, blasphemy probably?, reader gets fuzzy from prescribed painkillers, arguing, hospital stuff, mention of sleep paralysis involving spiders, reader gets shot but she’s fineee, I pander to intro to philosophy takers, bau!reader, neurodivergent coded reader, if she’s not exactly like you I’m sorry, bean soup a/n: one day you’re in a writing slump literally the next you are in your notes app for six hours writing whatever the fuck this is but I think I love it even tho it’s weird and I hope u like it too!! btw this was gonna be called cotard's syndrome but then I never once talk abt cotard's but if u care that might be interesting context for the motif of not feeling human/alive, WC 3K

Spencer hasn’t spoken to you since the doctor left the room five minutes ago.

The air is antiseptic as you take it deep into the hollows of your lungs and trap it there for a moment, trying to optimize oxygen intake without actually having to breathe very often. Hospital smell is as universal as it is suffocating. It reeks of everything but death—flowers, blood, bleach, vomit. A humiliating, desperate scramble to defy the very thing that defines mortality. It’s pathetic. It reminds you of the worst instances of failure and loss and denial in your life. It curdles your blood. Literally rots you from the inside out.

You’ve had ample time to ponder that smell over the last few months because you keep ending up here, and some time ago you decided the institution of the hospital is inherently absurd. It’s stupid to think you could avoid the one absolute condition on your corporeal form: impermanence. It is the only thing that is promised, and people still waste their lives away running from it. It is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

So around the time you acknowledged that hospitals are simply monuments to the self-importance of man, you gave up on trying too hard to preserve yourself. You’ve seen death too much and too often. You’ve tried staving it off with prayer and the miracles of modern medicine, and it never matters in the end because it’s all magical thinking anyway. All the wallowing and the bargaining and pleading never got you anywhere.

You’ve accepted that from the moment you were born, you were marked for death.

But you’re not a complete nihilist. You’re not even totally resigned to the abject certainty of death—because you’ve found a loophole.

Everyone has as many chances at escaping death as other people are willing to offer them at the cost of their own lives. Not many people are willing to make that trade—someone else’s life for their own—but you’ve decided you are. Because if not you, then who?

It’s not that you don’t see the value in your own life, as Spencer keeps making it sound. It’s just the opposite. You understand that you’ve got an extremely valuable resource, and you don’t just have to sit on it. There are things you can do. Choices you can make. Ways to defy death.

Just… not yours.

Or maybe you’re just in deep denial.

Either way—this is a philosophy your boyfriend intentionally refuses to understand. He gets mad, or some kind of upset, every time you try to explain it. Usually he ends up leaving the room close to tears. You never feel good about it.

Right now he’s presumably trying to give you the silent treatment and not doing a very good job.

“Stop holding your breath. Why are you—stop that.”

Spencer’s frowning, skin sallow and milk-blue under fluorescent lighting. Purple seeps from around his eyes like spilled wine on a white table cloth. Your stomach turns.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t tell you not to apologize. You don’t expect him to.

“Why are you doing that? Does something hurt?”

Other than your entire bicep being on fire due to the 9 millimeter Luger it recently came into contact with?

“Not really. I just don’t like the smell of hospitals.”

At that, he gets stony again. Like, Medusa stony. You feel a tightening in your chest that has nothing to do with a lack of air. His arms are crossed. A silk lined blazer drapes over your lap, and you wonder if he’s cold in just that white button up. It’s translucent in this light, like onion skin, or maybe something less organic—the folds and wrinkles look like fabric, but lots of things look like something they aren’t. In the Pietá, Jesus lounges dead on his mother’s lap, his cheek pressed to her arm like either of them have warm flesh, and her skirts drape from her knees and fall to the ground in delicate folds just like Spencer’s jacket and looking at pictures of it you swear you could find comfort there too—but if you wanted to make space for yourself next to Jesus you’d have to do it with a chisel and mallet. You’re starting to think that’s what it’s going to take with Spencer, as well.

“So stop walking into active gunfire. You’ll spend a lot less time here.”

Every deep sigh (of which there have been several) calcifies you further. Ironically, you never feel less alive than you do in a hospital.

“I didn’t walk into active g—”

“I’m not debating it with you. It’s not a discussion.”

“So you’re just going to be pissed at me for the rest of forever? I mean, if it’s not a discussion—what are you gonna do? Break up with me?”

You feel yourself dripping poison in the well. Even as you say it. As his head tilts toward you slowly and intently from his spot against the wall, and his warning gaze is cold and unforgiving and weighs 3.35 tons.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Talk?”

“Don’t try and manipulate me by implying that there are no options between permissiveness and dumping you!”

“I’m not manipulating you. And I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

The first part is an incredulous scoff as well as a blatant lie. You are manipulating him. Chisel and all. At least, you were trying to. It clearly doesn’t work very well. His jaw clenches.

“Is this worth it to you? Fighting with me like we’re children solely so you don’t have to take accountability?”

“Accountability for what? I made a choice. I don’t regret it. You’re upset because I did my job.”

A beat.

Silence always makes you feel the gravity of your words.

“Do you believe that?”

His voice softens so much, so quickly, it splinters down the middle.

You’ve never been known for your light touch. For someone who sees eviscerated bodies nearly every day, and prides herself on her evolved understanding of mortality, you often forget other people are not, in fact, impenetrable marble—they are flesh and blood and bone, and you’ve splattered yourself in the evidence of that.

“What?” You murmur. You easily turn timid, when you’re afraid you’ve been too heavy-handed. Spencer’s seen you sob over the birds who hit the windowpane and never reappeared from the shrubbery—their delicate wings, their little beaks—he didn’t mean to, Spencer, and now he’s dead! He’s seen you spend forty minutes catching a spider with a cup and an envelope rather than smush it, even though you have reoccurring episodes of sleep paralysis wherein a giant arachnid is sitting on your chest, hissing and clacking its pincers. He knows you are, at your core, kind and good.

It’s a little scary for someone to know that about you. It’s a little scary when you see your own vulnerability reflected in their eyes and the way they speak to you, the way you see it in him now.

“Do you believe that the choices you make regarding your safety don’t concern me at all?”

“They’re… my choices to make,” you whisper, but you’re less sure than you were a minute ago.

“I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about how it feels like you are trying to kill yourself every time we’re in the field.” His voice shakes. You swallow. “You have been hospitalized for four serious injuries sustained on the job in the past five months. Every time I bring it up, you—you talk about life like it’s optional for you. Like you’re not only willing to give it up but are actively looking to throw yourself in harm’s way every chance you get. You think that doesn’t terrify me?”

There’s a small chip in the paint on the wall next to him roughly the shape of Africa.

“It’s not like that. I’m… I’m just having an unlucky streak.”

He snaps.

“Luck isn’t going to get between you and a bullet. Ever.”

“It’s my job, Spencer.”

“No. It is a risk of the job. Not a defining feature or requirement. But you keep running toward gunfire like you have a quota to meet.”

“Spencer, I’m not doing it at you. I’m not trying to get myself hurt.”

“Well it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to avoid it, either,” he shoots back immediately, and you feel the anguish radiating from him until it lodges in your own chest, like it was always yours. Maybe it was.

You want to make it better, but you don’t know how, and even if you did, he’s pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward the door.

“Where are you going?” You call, a little too desperately for your liking.

“You need to eat something.”

Which translates roughly to he’s pissed and upset and he needs to leave the room. You’ve done this song and dance before.

However, food and an absence of him are contenders for the absolute last two things you want right now.

“Spencer, please don’t—”

But the door is already whooshing closed.

You stare at the grey and white checkered floor. Light bounces off the waxen reflection—some sort of parallel universe you can’t reach, perhaps. The whole room is desaturated. A mechanical humming threatens to drive you insane. It doesn’t feel like a place for living humans. You’re not convinced you are one.

When he comes back, maybe ten minutes later, nothing’s moved at all. In fact you’re not even sure you’ve been breathing.

The door closes as quietly as it opens.

This time, wordlessly, Spencer comes to you. You see his shoes first—his serious adult shoes. You wish he was wearing his Converse.

Then you see the bottle of apple juice he’s cracking open for you. Blue lid. Same kind you always get.

“You didn’t bring food.”

“You wouldn’t have eaten it.”

Fair enough.

You take the bottle with your good arm and sip shallowly—all that adrenaline and the subsequent interpersonal strife has left you nauseous. The drink is too sweet. It clashes with the tang of metal in your mouth.

Still, you drink enough to satisfy him, and then you’re tossing his jacket aside before balancing the bottle between your thighs so you can screw the lid back on. He doesn’t go back to the couch or his spot on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t pull away when you lean into him, but it does take him a moment to reciprocate. You’re still grateful all the same when he cradles the back of your head to his stomach like you’re made of porcelain.

“I don’t think you understand how upset I am,” he says quietly.

Only Spencer Reid could be furious with you and still hold you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“That’s not good enough. You need to stop risking your life like that.”

He doesn’t get it. Your brows flutter as they try to furrow but even holding that expression saps you. Maybe the pain meds are finally kicking in.

“I just wanna help people.”

“That doesn’t explain to me or justify your urge to do it at the cost of your own life. We all want to help people, angel. The whole team. That’s why we do what we do. But we don’t run into shootouts. We don’t split off and provoke people with guns when we’re unarmed and unprepared.”

“But it worked. She got away.” You feel a spark of fulfillment at the memory of Gloria Sanchez in JJ’s arms just before the ambulance doors had slammed you into your first cage of the night.

“We don’t know if he was going to kill her. He might not’ve fired at all if you didn’t go running toward him. That wasn’t strategic, it was reckless and irresponsible and you know that. I know you do. So something else is going on.”

The pressure in your nose that usually precipitates tears comes as a surprise.

“I just—if that’s how I can save someone, why shouldn’t I, you know? Why do they have less of a right to live than I do just because they’ve been deprived of the choice? If I have a choice, and they don’t, I should choose to… to help them. That’s my job.”

For a long moment, you listen to your own breath, muffled by Spencer’s shirt, and the mechanical humming, and something dripping, and the low, buzzy chatter of nurses far down the hallway.

When Spencer next speaks you get the sense he’s holding a lot back. His voice is taut enough it wavers slightly. Taut enough that if he weren’t speaking so quietly he might be yelling. It’s like pinpricks all over your body—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

And yes, in theory, you do. But that doesn’t negate your original point. It only takes one life or death moment for you to utilize the most valuable resource you have. What happens after is no longer your concern.

“On the psych evals you helped develop it asks if you think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the one to save the many. The answer is supposed to be no. If you say yes you get flagged. The FBI frowns upon… lever-pullers. And that’s exactly what I’m doing if I let one person die when I could’ve potentially saved them.”

“Protecting your own life is not pulling the lever. What you’re doing isn’t smart or morally righteous. You’re just throwing yourself across the tracks, too. If you were to fail a psych eval right now it would be because you’re passively suicidal. And you know what? The FBI also tends to frown upon self-immolative delusions of grandeur and girls who like to play sacrificial lamb.”

“’M not a… sacrificial lamb…”

“No,” Spencer agrees quietly, stroking your hair. “You’re not.”

And you can’t react to the fragility in his voice, or the content of his words, and the fact that when he says it he means something different—you can’t do anything about it. You can only catalogue it. You can only know that he loves you, and feel a little guilty about it.

Some time passes. You don’t know how long he remains standing so you can doze against him. He does not smell like the hospital. He’s the antidote for whatever grief they distill from widows and orphans before aerosolizing it through the whole place.

“Baby?” He asks eventually. You know the lilt of it. He’s been thinking.

“Hm?”

He hesitates.

“Can we talk about you maybe taking some time off of work?”

“You heard the boss,” you mumble. “I can’t come in for at least a week.”

“I mean beyond that.”

You intend to respond, but by the time you open your mouth you’ve lost the prompt in all the brain fog.

“You’re so comfy,” you murmur dreamily. “Thank you for being mad at me.”

If he responds, you miss it.

You’re imagining the bed waiting for you at home, once the doctor is done observing you—warm, neatly made. Blankets woven with soft fibers. A mattress that will sink under your weight. You think of Spencer, who’s shaping himself to you, Spencer, who intentionally inhales when you exhale at night to make room for the rise and fall of your chest against his. You think of the imprint of his buttons on your cheek. You are both flesh and blood and bone.

Strange, pill-induced half dreams and visions and memories take over. You’re in that alleyway again. That man fires. You don’t blink or scream or feel.

Just before the bullet makes contact you’re standing in front of the Pietá. It’s massive. Spencer is there, too, holding your hand.

You can’t actually see him, only, you know he’s there. You feel his warmth, his presence, when he leans over to whisper in your ear. The way you know him goes beyond sight.

The Pietá—meaning the pity, in English—is 6’7” and six feet wide. It weighs 6,700 pounds. Michelangelo had to quarry the block of marble himself. He was only 25 when he finished. The Basilica keeps it behind bulletproof glass.

Jesus and Mary behind bullet proof glass.

God. Who’d try to kill Jesus a third time? He’s already dead.

Besides—they’re both made of stone. Bullets would probably just ping right off of them. Or maybe they’d shatter just like you did.

Probably not though. You’re not actually made of marble. You’ve no idea what it feels like to be a statue and get shot at. You sure know how it feels as a human, though—and it feels like shit. You don’t really know why you keep doing it. None of your reasons are good enough for Spencer, and he’s, generally speaking, pretty smart about some things.

Maybe you’re tired of being human.

Maybe you’re tired of sleeping on your arm funny and waking up to a hand in your bed that doesn’t feel like yours and remembering all the hands you’ve held moments before they couldn’t hold yours back. Or tired of those moments where you are being held and it’s so unbelievably perfect and then someone has to let go, or when someone you love hugs you goodbye and you realize that there will always be a final I love you, or simply getting older and watching potential life paths fall away like rotten fruit to the ground. Maybe life is sometimes so good it hurts and you can’t bear it. So you tempt fate. You walk a tightrope because even if you fall and it can’t ever feel good again—at least it can’t hurt either. At least you won’t lose anymore.

And yet.

It does feel good, sometimes. Sort of often, actually. Even when it’s awful.

Dead Jesus and Mary, with their marble skin and their bulletproof glass and their holiness and their virginity and all the other things they have that you don’t. Nobody can hurt them anymore. Not ever.

Maybe that’s something you envy.

But you doubt they’ve ever been so terribly, wonderfully alive as you’ve been, or as comfortable as you are like this, leaning into Spencer’s warmth and his softness, in the hospital, or the Vatican, or your dreams. Your bicep was ruined but it’s healing. You are capable of ruin and rebirth in the same lifetime. In the same day, in the same hour.

You doubt that in 520 years, behind bulletproof glass and unyielding, eternally flawless skin, they’ve ever felt as invincible as you do now.

You doubt they ever could.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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pathologicalreid · 10 months ago

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sense memory | S.R.

After eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

part two

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: flangst content warnings: general cm violence, peter lewis, prison reid, cat adams word count: 2.64k a/n: i have no idea if i like this or not. it might be too cheesy. but i like cheese.

Second floor, apartment 23.

You leaned against the wall and slid down until you were sat on the ground. You left your bag draped over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, sweetie,” someone said, causing your head to snap up. “Here to see him?” Spencer’s elderly neighbor asked as she passed, carrying a grocery bag in her hand from the market down the street.

Nodding, you smiled softly at her, “I was on a trip. I’m just waiting for him to come home.”

She hummed and kept walking to her door, apartment 24. “He went on a trip too, huh.”

Waving halfheartedly as she disappeared into her apartment, you leaned your head against the wall. Yeah, you went on a trip – a trip to witness protection, and Spencer went to prison.

Spencer went to prison. The words still felt foreign to you, you hadn’t heard them until two weeks ago after Peter Lewis died. Since he didn’t know where you were, he sent letters to your old address, and they were forwarded to the marshal assigned to protect you. When you left the program, you got the letters. 178 letters.

Some of them were several pages long, some of them were as simple as an I love you or an I miss you, and some of them had doodles, usually equations.

You wondered if he’d gotten your mail yet. The letters and pictures you’d collected for your marshal to send to him once you were out of WITSEC. You weren’t even sure if he’d want to see you, but your dad encouraged you to try anyway.

You had left in October, just after his birthday, and now it was May.

After being separated from your dad and Jack for so long, you went to stay with them for a week, but you knew you wanted to return to the district. You wanted to see Spencer, for closure if for nothing else. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, JJ,” you heard him say from the first floor, and panic washed over you. The nerves of seeing him again had you wondering whether or not you could survive a jump out of the second-story window.

But the hallway windows didn’t open, you were left panicking, and then there he was.

You shouldn’t be here; you didn’t know what to say to him. The first person from your past should’ve been someone else. You could’ve called JJ or Penelope.

You saw him before he saw you, he was too busy digging in his bag for his keys. Pulling yourself up to your feet, you stood up and wiped your clammy hands on your jeans.

When he looked up and saw you, his expression went from confusion to disbelief to shock. Not once did he look happy, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he, like you, had been finding it hard to be happy lately.

Your chest ached as he walked past you and put his key in the lock. Spencer opened the door, and you held your breath as he held the door open, and you stepped inside of the apartment.

For months, you had imagined this moment in your mind, wondering what you would say when you finally got to see him again. He set his keys down on the entryway table before he turned around and faced you.

Familiar honey-colored irises studied you as if he was comparing the last time he had seen you to now.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like you were imposing on him.

Slowly, you walked backward out of the still-open door, resorting to the idea of never seeing him again. Until he spoke, “Please don’t leave me again.” His voice was soft, timid in a way you had never heard before.

You spun around and your lips parted in surprise. Tentatively, you stepped back toward him before you were right in front of him, inches apart, “I won’t.” It was a promise.

You weren’t sure who reached for who first, but the next moment your arms were slung around his neck and Spencer’s were around your torso, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground.

He’d bowed his head so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, whispering your name like a prayer that had been answered.

Propping your chin up on his shoulder, you took a deep breath, “I’m right here, Spence. I’m right here.” He was the same, and yet entirely different. Maybe more muscular, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell him that you would never leave him again, not as long as he didn’t want you to.

Everything had changed in the past eight months; you knew you couldn’t make him that promise. That I’ll never leave you promise. It wasn’t real.

But Spencer was real. He was real and he was clutching you the way you were clutching you, his fingers digging into your skin so hard that you might bruise. “I got your letters,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You felt tears seep through your clothes as you took a deep breath and gently pried yourself away from him. “222 days,” he told you matter-of-factly. “I haven’t seen you in 222 days because you were in witness protection and you’re apologizing to me.”

“Of course, I’m apologizing to you. God, I left the program, and my marshal was like ‘Oh, by the way, here are hundreds of letters from your friends and your boyfriend wrote to you while you were gone. And just so you know, your boyfriend was in federal prison for the last three months.’” You took a few deep, uneven breaths. “What am I supposed to do with that, Spencer? Stop looking at me like that!”

He was smiling at you, his eyes were still watery, but he was giving you a doting smile even so, “I missed you.”

You dropped to a crouch at his words, and he followed you down. Those were the only words you had needed to hear over the last eight months. Meekly, you looked up at him, kneeling in front of you. When you left, Spencer had seemed like he was on top of the world, his mom had been accepted in that clinical trial, and the two of you had been talking more and more about your future. Now he seemed… heavier. A more burdened person. “I missed you so much,” you cried.

Reaching over to you, Spencer gently wiped the tears from your face before pulling you close to him, “You look as beautiful as you did the day I lost you.”

The two of you toppled over as a result of focusing on holding each other instead of balancing. He laid back on the floor, holding you close to him. You looked up, resting your chin on his shoulder, “You never lost me. You could never lose me. I always knew I’d come back; I always knew you’d get Scratch.”

“I didn’t, though,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

You hummed, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your palm. “We’re here now, doesn’t that count for anything?”

Spencer pushed up so that he was being supported by his elbows, “That counts for everything.” He studied your face, “Where did that scar come from? It’s new,” he said, his voice still quiet, like you were an animal, and he was trying not to scare you away.

“Oh,” you murmured, “bashed my head on a door. Only me, right?” You brushed him off before clambering to your feet. What were you supposed to do now? Ask him if he wanted to talk? You used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose. God, he had called you beautiful with snot running down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, staring at the floor. “I know, I know you’re going to say that I don’t have anything to apologize for, but I’m apologizing anyway. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry that Morgan, my dad, and I all left within the same few months.”

He shook his head, “If you hadn’t gone, you’d most likely be dead now. I’d rather miss you for eight months than grieve you for a lifetime.”

You stepped away from him until you backed into the couch, “I thought about calling you. I had no idea that I wouldn’t have been able to. I just thought that-“

And just like that, he was kissing you. It was inevitable, just a question of who would make the first move. A small, shocked noise bubbled in your throat before you leaned into the kiss. It was gentle, tentative even. You gripped the lapels of his jacket as if he’d fade away, but you kissed him gently until he pulled away. “You showing up is the best thing to happen to me all year,” he murmured, sweeping your hair behind your ears. “You remain the most important person in my life.”

“Second most important,” you corrected. “How’s your mom?” Some of the information in his letters didn’t seem overly optimistic, mentioning him bringing her home to stay with him and a medication that he was getting in Mexico.

Spencer gave you a tight-lipped smile, “She’s good, I just went to see her with JJ, actually. She’s staying at a home in the district now.”

You smiled, “That’s good, keeping her close will be good for the both of you, I think.” Spencer reached around your body and pulled at your jacket, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your coat off in an attempt to coax you into staying,” he answered candidly.

Humming, you allowed him to pull the coat off of you, watching intently as he hung it on the coat rack. “Spence?” His name still felt foreign in your mouth as you moved to sit down on the couch.

He looked at you once he finished hanging his own coat, “Yeah?” Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. A calculated decision, giving you space, but not sitting in a different chair.

“We should talk about it,” you responded, swallowing thickly. “All of it. Everything,” you continued. Millburn. Cat. Mr. Scratch.

Spencer went first, talking to you intently about what happened in that hotel room in Mexico. When he told you what Lindsay had done, you had to swallow your anger. Every once in a while, he’d trip over his words, and you encouraged him to take a break. You laid down on the couch and Spencer nestled in right next to you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and enabling you to play with his hair.

Eventually, he told you about Scratch’s takedown. How Luke had watched him dangle from the ledge of that building before he fell to his death.

You sniffled at the end of his story, “I’ll have to thank Luke next time I see him.” You said, closing your eyes and reveling in your sense memory. The smell of his shampoo – tea tree – and the smell of his apartment – stale coffee and old books.

“Where were you?” He whispered, reaching up and skimming the scar on your forehead with his fingertips.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to find his brown ones watching you. “Minnesota,” You whispered, “St. Paul.” Taking a deep breath, you continued, “Then Sacramento, for a while.”

His brows furrowed, “Why did you leave St. Paul?”

You hesitated, afraid to speak about the event. One of the worst things to have ever happened to you, right on up there with the death of your mother. “My uh…” you cleared your throat, “my location was compromised.”

“Does it have anything to do with the scar?” The one you had lied to him about hours ago.

Shutting your eyes, you nodded almost imperceptibly, “It has everything to do with the scar.”

You could see him starting to put a story together on his own, there was a scar on your face that hadn’t been there last year. A scratch. “What happened?”

The memory was there, you wanted to bury it, but it would stick with you forever. The scar on your forehead would fade, but the scar on your soul was permanent. “I did it, I put the scar there,” you admitted. “I don’t know how he found me,” you whispered, that same feeling of defeat rising in your chest.

You were lucky that there was no one else in the house for you to hurt because if Peter Lewis had turned you into a murderer, it might’ve pushed you over the metaphorical edge. As you spoke to Spencer, you told him as much. You were in a bad place while you were in WITSEC.

The two of you remained curled up together in a mess of tears and limbs and fistfuls of shirts and the overwhelming fear of being separated. Looking at him simultaneously broke your heart and put it back together again. “Sacramento was nice, but I missed the East Coast,” you whispered.

“What about your dad?” Spencer asked softly. Part of you wondered if he wanted to go to sleep, it was dark outside now, but you couldn’t be bothered to check the time.

Nodding, you sniffled, “he’s in Philadelphia with Jack, has been the whole time. That’s where I’ve been, with them.”

Spencer lifted his head to look at you, “Where are you staying tonight?”

Sighing, you shifted on the couch, “In a hotel, I’m apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“No,” he said simply, a frown forming on his face.

You laughed lightly, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

He shook his head, “I mean don’t go apartment hunting tomorrow, stay here with me. Stay here tonight, too.” He said, voice bordering on pleading.

“Spencer, we were together for almost six years and never moved in together,” you told him, arching one brow in suspicion. You had talked about it, it just never seemed to happen.

He sat up fully, “I’m tired of making excuses about breaking leases and travel times, Y/N. There’s not enough time in life to keep avoiding it,” he gestured wildly with his hands as his voice slowly rose.

You tried to wrap your head around the idea, “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through before making a decision this big.” Folding your hands in your lap, you noticed the first real change in him. This was impulsive.

“I spent three months in prison thinking about you!” He said loudly, “Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going.” That was quieter like he realized how loud he was actually being. “I knew there was my mom, I knew there was the team, but seeing you again… that kept me going.” He studied your face and based on the emotions you were feeling you could only imagine what your expression was, “Is it me? Is it everything I told you that I did? The poison? Cat? Do you not love me anymore?”

Your breath hitched, “I love you. Of course, I still love you.” Finally, you saw it. He was different, but at the same time, he was still the boy who hid his feelings from you – afraid of upsetting your father. The two of you had a long way to go before you could be together in way you used to be, and maybe things would never be the same.

His shoulders slouched forward in relief, “then move in with me.”

Nodding, you leaned your head on his shoulder, “okay.” You took his hand in yours, expertly intertwining your fingers as if no time had passed. “Okay,” you whispered. It certainly didn’t hurt to try.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “I love you too.”

please remember to reblog, like, and/or commend if you enjoyed!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out)

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fluff #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian season 2 spoilers

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meenah-chan · 4 years ago

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Brothers and a Broken Bone

An OM! GN! MC fanfiction (OM! Brothers & Now-dateables + Luke)

2.42k words

Genre: flangst probably

Trigger Warning: blood, broken bone, violence (probably) Self depreciation? Still, read at your own discretion.

A chaotic family. A fight broke out and then... "Snap!"

They were on the way to the Demon Lord's Castle. Being like their usual selves, seven demons of varying personalities is chaotic.

"I'll definitely kill you Mammon if you're not able to get my platinum Seraphim figurine back!"

"Stop fussin' around already! It's just a figurine—"

"Just a figurine?! That's the last limited edition platinum Seraphim figurine released during the final episode of Seraphim of the End! There are only 5 of it ever produced in the whole three realms!" ...extremely chaotic.

"Shut it, you're so so damn loud."

"Loud?! Then let me rip that useless ears off you!" Whilst just a few blocks away from the castle, the purple demon suddenly transformed and spring towards his scummy brother.

"Stop it already. You're making a scene—" Before Satan could finish his sentence, the book he's holding was hit by Mammon's stray hand and flew, knocking Beelzebub's burger off his hands.

"My... Burger..." Losing concentration he lost grip of Belphegor, who is on his back.

On his fall, Belphegor squash Asmodeus to the ground, who then broke a nail.

"My book..."

"My beautiful nails..."

"Mngh... the hell..."

A burger splattered on the floor. A dented book coated with mayo and ketchup. A broken nail. An interrupted sleep.

... Extremely chaotic indeed.

Simultaneously the demon brothers transformed, ready to join the brawl.

"Stop this, you fools!" A riot is the last thing Lucifer wants a few blocks away from Diavolo's abode. Yet, his words falls on deaf ears, causing a set of horns and wings to sprout from him.

And the eldest joins the battle.

Then there's MC, a mere human. "Hey! No fighting guys!!" ...with no one who want to listen to.

"Don't hurt each other!!" Still nothing.

They move closer and took a deep breath, but this time, they're eager to use a bit of force through their pacts. "CUT IT—Aww." yet before they could, they fail miserably. Knocked by whoever the brother is, MC lost their balance.

They twist to hopefully resist their fall. Still, MC's footing failed and instead fall face first.

Snap!

As if a twig cracks, Leviathan and Mammon's attention was drawn to the unsettling sound. And as if on cue— Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan and Belphegor's eyes followed.

A few feet away from them sits MC, blood profusely dripping off their nose.

MC rose on their feet but in a second, "Ahh..." They glanced on their lower right and lift their arm, as if nothing is bleeding.

Following the human's line of vision, blood suddenly drained from everyone's face. Well, except for the human themself.

"AHHHH!!" A shriek from Mammon and Asmodeus.

"Y/N!?" A shocked yell from Lucifer, Beelzebub and Satan.

"..." And a choked silence from Leviathan and Belphegor.

"...It broke." at the end of their arm limply dangles their forearm from the elbows. MC just looked at it as if nothing's out of place. They then glance to the stiff brothers a few feet away from them. "So, y'all cool down a bit?"

The brothers are anything but cooled down. They are so terrified they couldn't even move on their s spot.

And as if to trigger the demon brothers alot more, they swish their arm a little bit, the dangling forearm swinging like pendulum.

The first one to return to his composure is Lucifer, pulling out a handkerchief to stop the bleeding of Y/N's nose.

Satan followed, removing his blue jacket and sling their right arm around their neck. "I can't find anything hard to support your arm so please make do with this for now... damn, that fucking hardbound book's useless..." He mumbled the last phrase gritting his teeth.

"... Let's head to the Demon Lord's Castle first." Lucifer may looked he is composed outside but inside, he is a total mess. Everytime he loosens the pressure of his hand on their nose, blood will come dripping off with no sign of clotting at all. Just a bit more of ant stimuli and he will certainly be panicking like his brothers.

Noticing it, MC took the handkerchief from Lucifer and hold it in place themself.

Beel on the other hand towers over them and carry them.

"Does it hurt? Am I the one who hit you?" A crying Mammon hovers over them, hesitant of touching a single strand of his human.

"O-Of course it hurts, you idiot! We just broke MC's arms!" Leviathan is also a crying mess, standing beside Mammon.

"Not really. It is throbbing but numb." They reeled their arm once more, alerting everyone.

"DON'T DO THAT!!" They all yelled in sync.

"Hahahahahaha!! Looked at that priceless faces. Are you in a choir?"

"Hey, no fooling around! You're injuries are serious!" Asmodeus snaps.

"What if you worsen it?! You want to lose your arm, huh?!" Belphegor added.

"Why would I listen to any of you?" MC raised an eyebrow.

"Stop being childish and unreasonable. We're just thinking about you."

"Ohoh~? Did I heard it right? Childish and unreasonable? Aren't you describing yourselves awhile ago before injuring me with your bickering?" Condescending laugh. They received an insulting laugh from a mere human, yet no one utter a single word for defense.

Amidst the chaos, three forms appears opposite to their destination. "Hey guys, aren't you going to the Demon Lord's Castle too? What are you doing in the middle of the road?" As Simeon, Luke and Solomon approached the frozen brothers, MC jump off Beel's grasp and went to them.

"MC, what's with that jacket?" Luke held the hem of their shirt with a concerned look.

"It's nothing, just broke my arm. Come on, let's go to Diavolo and leave that matured and reasonable bunch." MC is smiling but the three could hear the spite in their voice.

"Wait—You WHAT?!" The eyes of the three almost bulged out of their skulls in surprise.

"Don't worry, I can't feel it. Let's go before the numbness disappears."

Through Solomon's magic, they manage to stop the bleeding and hold the arm from swinging. The four arrived at the the Demon Lord's Castle safely, leaving the brothers behind.

"MC, what happened?" As soon as he sees their state, Diavolo react fast and guide them to the nearest sofa.

"It was an accident. Is it possible to fix this?" Barbatos entered the room from a door different from what they used. He is carrying with him a first aid. Their guess is either— he left the room as he saw them or, he already predicted this will happen and came prepared. Either way, he didn't questioned them and instead act calm and efficiently as ever. Though when MC look closely, they can see an ever subtle crease between his brows.

Shortly after Barbatos appeared, the seven brothers arrived to the room, silently stayed in the corner.

"Solomon, I believe you have knowledge of healing spells, don't you?" Barbatos asked, wrapping the injured arm carefully yet fast.

"Yes, but it will take a few days to completely heal a torn ligament."

"I also have some speeding-up spells under my sleeves. I think combining it will heal MC's arm by daybreak." After Barbatos patch them up, Luke approach MC, with Simeon a step behind him.

"Are you o–okay? Does it hurt?" Teary-eyed he hold their knee, looking into their eyes.

With their uninjured hand they caress Luke's cheek, wiping the tears off his eyes. "It doesn't hurt at all. I will be alright in no time. A sweet little angel is blessing me after all."

"That's right Luke. Solomon and Barbatos are also forming a spell to return MC's arm to normal."

"Now, listen everyone." Diavolo stood in the middle of the room, calling everyone's attention. "I believe MC and the brothers have something to discuss in private. While Barbatos and Solomon are constructing a spell in the next room, I hope Simeon and Luke to come with me to give them privacy."

"I bet they are the one who caused MC's injuries! I don't want to leave MC alone with them!"

"It'll be okay Luke. They will be careful and won't do it the second time. Am I right, guys?" Simeon spoke calmly to soothe Luke but a hint of distaste still managed to reach the ears of the brothers. "Now come, let's leave them for a while." A reassuring smile from MC to Luke, and a thankful nod from Lucifer, to Diavolo and Simeon are passed before the others left the room.

"MC..." Approaching them, the brothers line up in row a meter away from them, Lucifer speaking in the middle of the line. "We would like to apologize for our... foolishness. Won't you forgive us? We're ready to do anything to earn you again."

"... I'm not really angry with you guys. Just upset and disappointed, with myself. Well, maybe I'm also sad because of you."

"MC..."

"Quarrels are normal with siblings. But it hurts to see you guys on each other's neck, ready to kill each other any moment. I mean, we're family. I should be able to stop you guys from doing something you'll definitely regret later. Yet here I am, a mere weak human who couldn't even do anything about it."

"It was like you guys calling me a family is nothing but a title. That without the pact, I am but a useless design that would crumble at a slight flick. I'm so weak and useless it's so upsetting."

"You're not weak nor useless!!" Mammon yelled.

"Yes I am. Look at this arm that snapped like a flimsy twig." MC slightly raised the arm with broken bone, which is starting to throb in pain. Pain that will definitely cause their tears anytime soon. Yet despite the pain still not surfacing completely, a greater pain within their chest caused tears to fall anyways.

"Look at me MC," Lucifer knelt in front of them, wiping the tears away from their eyes, "You, by any means, are not a weak person."

"Staying by our side after everything that happened, shows that you're a strong person." Satan strokes their head, smiling.

"That's because I really love you all. Because I want to be with you."

"We love you too, MC." Asmodeus also knelt beside Lucifer, taking their hand to his lips for a kiss.

"You're the most precious person to us, MC. We don't want you sad so please smile."

"Y–You know you're the Henry of my life! I vow I won't cause you pain. No–I'll protect you from all the sufferings in this world the best that I can!" Standing behind Lucifer, Leviathan fist-pumped.

"You're the best cuddle partner for me. Get well soon so we can take a nap without any problems." hugged MC from behind, burrying his face on the crook of their neck.

Mammon had enough. "Let go, you pricks! No touching to my human! What if you worsen their injury, huh?!" He especially tried peeling the fifth and seventh born from their intimate touch with MC.

"You're just jealous you couldn't hug them."

"Or kiss their hand." Asmodeus planted another peck onto their palm.

"N–No, of c–course not!" Mammon blushed profusedly while he held his hands over Asmodeus to stop him the third time.

"Pfft—Hahahahahahaha!" Being able to lift the pain off themself and hearing the brothers cheer them up, MC laughed with light heart, also lifting the veil of sadness and guilt from the brothers' chests.

The room was filled with smiles and laugh, fortifying the bonds of the big family they have.

"I'm sorry for interrupting everyone,"

"GWAAAHHHH!!" Leviathan and Mammon screamed in surprise as Barbatos appeared in the room with neither warning nor sound. Not only the purple and whitehead was taken aback. Everyone went stiff for a second except MC who is facing the door directly and saw Barbatos enter.

"The spell is done in the other room. If you may allow me, I would like to take MC."

On the doorway stood Solomon, holding back his laughter from the scene, engraving the comical shocked faces of everyone to the back of his mind.

"You could've knocked before entering you know..." Satan sighed.

"Forgive me for my rudeness, but I would like to bring them as soon a possible." Barbatos slightly bowed with his usual formal smile.

"... I see. Please do." Lucifer held his temple for a second before rising on his feet and giving way to the butler. If he knew, the butler definitely did it intentionally as a payback.

"If you'll excuse me." Barbatos took MC's other hand and in a snap, sling it to his nape, carrying MC in his arms like a princess.

"Oi! Let go! I'll carry them myself!" Mammon yelled at Barbatos' action. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"Yeah, you might drop MC from being too flustered." Asmodeus agreed, squealing at the thrilling sight before him.

"Beel, you carry MC." Belphegor nudged his twin. "Okay, I will."

"No, I don't think that's possible." Diavolo entered the room, interrupting any more attempt of the demon brothers of taking MC. Simeon is with him, while Luke made a beeline to his baking teacher and MC.

"Now that you settled everything with MC, we will now discuss your punishment for the incident."

"...What?" Belphegor and Satan raised an eyebrow from the Crown Prince's statement.

"Yes. Punishment. I entrusted MC in your care thinking you can protect them. Instead you caused them pain. I'll be lying if I said I'm not disappointed."

Although Lucifer thought of the possibility of punishment but to hear the word disappointed from Diavolo's lips, directed at him, his loyal prospect hits him hard.

"...Yes. I understand, Diavolo."

The stunned faces of the brothers, including Lucifer pulled the last string of composure within Solomon, freeing the dam of his loud laughter. Simeon also chuckled with him.

"Okay, let's start. Barbatos, Solomon, proceed to the other room to tend MC's injuries. Simeon will also help with the discussion."

"As you wish, Young Master." "Okay." Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon replied simultaneously.

"Will do. How about you, Luke?"

"I'll go with MC."

"W–Wait! Can't we just settle this without any punishment? MC did say they're fine already. Right, MC?" Mammon held Barbatos halfway to the exit.

"As much as I want that, I can't really oppose Diavolo's decision. And you did dig what you sow, so... Condolence, I guess?"

"You heard her." Diavolo added.

"B–But, BUT—"

"MAMMOOOON..."

"EEK—!"

And thus, the trial begins.

I dunno why I wrote this seriously 😂🤣 I just thought I want to write a comedy fanfic with all the characters but I just noticed my plot is a bit dark to make this a comedy at all. So I made it a fluffy angst instead sksksksk 😆😆✌️

Also posting A Smear of Blood soon after.

Masterlist

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4aloysius-porteu · 4 years ago

Text

i am your ally || tsukishima kei.

pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader

genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy

word count: 5.6k

details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader

warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home

synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.

(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.

And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing.

He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.

He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with.

She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling.

His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs.

"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere.

The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"

He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."

"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips

"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"

"Heard of what?"

"That (Y/N) is missing."

"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry.

He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."

"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"

"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."

Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"

"Yeah."

There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."

He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."

"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."

The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"

Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her.

He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.

Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.

It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?

He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from.

To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was.

It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud.

"H-Help me."

He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"

"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"

"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."

"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"

He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."

"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"

He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."

For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.

"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"

"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."

"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"

The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."

"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.

"Can you please just jump?"

(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up. She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.

"Here I go..."

She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady.

"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"

"I did for a second."

"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."

They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"

"No. I'm tired."

"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.

He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.

He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water.

"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.

"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose.

"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"

(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."

The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.

"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."

He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.

She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.

Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now.

Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet.

"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."

(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.

"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"

Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.

"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little.

"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"

She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.

"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her.

(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say.

But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.

Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.

"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.

"I-It's realistic, right?"

"It is."

"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.

Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."

"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with."

(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..."

They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.

Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."

"You know I won't let you."

"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."

"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."

"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."

The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.

"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"

(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.

"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).

"Would you ignore those words she said?"

'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!'

A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard.

"B-But—"

A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"

She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where.

"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."

"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.

"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.

(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart.

"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."

The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."

"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."

"What was the sentence after?"

Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"

The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."

The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"

(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."

"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."

(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."

"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.

(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."

She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."

"What?"

"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"

"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.

"There's your answer, little gremlin."

"How is that— Oh."

"But I'd like to add something."

"What is it?"

"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."

It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"

"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized.

"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"

She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"

"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"

"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."

He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."

"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."

"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"

"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."

"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.

"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done."

"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"

He lazily replied, "Probably."

"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"

"Probably yes."

"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck.

He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."

"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."

"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."

"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"

"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."

"Right... thank you."

"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"

(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"

"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.

"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."

Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."

"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."

"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"

"...a melon bread."

"Just that?"

"Just that."

Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."

(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry.

"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.

"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."

"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."

"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.

"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.

"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."

"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."

"Alright. Thank you for the food."

Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."

As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table.

To mom, dad, and brother,

Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return.

Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious.

Love,

Kei.

She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm.

(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.

250 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

Mirror Mirror

Summary: It can be hard to be married to someone you see as virtually the most beautiful person in the world, when you don’t see yourself that way, and all eyes seem to be watching.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Sized!Reader

Warnings: Floooffff, tooth rooting floooffff!! Lol, Flangst, probably the flangstiest flangst I’ve ever flangsted. Language, self hate, insecure reader. Jensen's is a complete fucking sweetheart. That’s about it I think.

Ward Count: 2249

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!

A/N: Okay guys! This fic was one I wrote before the final and now I’m glad I wrote this baby before hand, because while I’m still working on the comfort fic you all requested, It’s taking me a little to get my emotions under control! So, that being said, enjoy this one guys! The Jensen x Reader comfort fic which will be titled Pieces Of Me, will be here as soon as I can guys! Feedback is gold! Please do not copy my work!

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

You stood in front of the most dreaded object in your house with big, ugly tears rolling down your reddened cheeks.

The mirror.

There was a stack of dresses in expensive bags behind you, and a pile of matching shoes scattered across your bedroom floor. You had been at this for more than three hours, and nothing you put on looked right to you.

Your eyes rake over the image of your disgruntled self in the mirror as you run your hands down your not so flat stomach; all the way down to your thighs that were a lot thicker than what was considered “pretty” by most standards.

Every dress you put on today seemed to do nothing but accentuate your worst features, and highlight the things that you were the most self conscious about, and today was the last day you had to pick an outfit for the awards ceremony that your husband had to attend in California. You were flying out first thing in the morning, and you still had nothing to wear. The thought utterly terrifies you.

You turn away from your reflection in disgust and sit down heavily on the foot of your bed, your head hanging down as the tears flowed heavier from your eyes onto the black satin material of the dress that went down to your knees.

You hated awards ceremonies, and this was why. You hated all public appearances where you had to be seen by the fans with Jensen, but awards ceremonies were like next level humiliation for you.

You didn’t have the body of the actresses and supermodels that walked the red carpet alongside your husband who was WAY the hell out of league. You were a little overweight, and you always had been. No matter how many miles you got up early to run in the morning, or expensive gym memberships you wasted hard earned money on, you were still on the heavier side.

Diet pills either did nothing, or made you sick. You weren’t heavy enough for surgery, and even if you were you would be terrified to take it that far. Diets themselves did NOTHING, and you had done some pretty extreme diets since you met and started dating Jensen. Once you had married him, you continued to try and lose weight, even though Jensen insisted you were beautiful.

You never told him, but you had seen the comments on social media concerning Jensen’s “fatass of a wife,” and how “he could do so much better than that.” The one that stuck with you the most was, “I bet on the rare occasion he does have sex with her it’s when the lights off.”

People were cruel, and when they were able to hide behind the safety of computers they were even more cruel than usual. You knew that if you didn’t look just right on the red carpet tomorrow with Jensen, if you didn’t look like the woman he deserved to have on his arm, and not just yourself, they would tear you both apart.

You were so lost in your self loathing that you didn’t hear the front door close, or Jensen’s heavy footfalls making their way closer to your still open bedroom door. When he first caught sight of you, and all the clothing bags and shoes that littered the room, his heart fell to his feet. He wished you could see you the way he saw you, he wished you could see just how beautiful you were. He’d been trying to help you see it for years, but when big events like this come up they seem to drag out all those old insecurities that broke his heart almost as bad as they broke yours.

Jensen made his way over to you as you quickly tried to wipe the tears from your face to hide the fact that you were crying and knelt down in front of you, taking your hand in his own while cupping the side of your face with his free hand, making you look up into his piercing green eyes that looked sadder than you expected them too.

“What’s wrong baby,” he asked you, catching a stray tear with the pad of his thumb and wiping it away before it had a chance to join the other’s on our lap.

You just shook your head and tried to look away as you attempted to swallow the giant lump of nothing that formed in your throat. Jensen was having none of it, and moved to sit on the bed next to you, shoving the bags out of his way so that there was a place next to you.

“Come on pretty girl, talk to me please. What’s got you so upset?”

You knew he wasn’t going to let it go, so you tried to take a deep breath to steady your nerves. You didn’t want to melt into a weeping mess in front of him, not over something like this, but everything just seemed so amplified lately. All the stress caused your emotions to get out of control because you really had no idea why you were stressed, you just were, and everything just seemed overwhelming lately.

“I’m fat Jay,” you tell him, hating how thick your voice sounds from all the crying you’d been doing for hours now. “I’m too fat to fit into anything, and look good enough to go to this awards thing with you. People are going to make fun of you for being married to a fucking whale. Maybe I should just stay here in Austin.” A dark chuckle formed in your throat at the thought you never intended to say aloud, but did anyway. “Maybe you should just divorce me and find someone who’s more your speed.”

“Wait a minute, woah, where is this coming from?” Jensen asked, turning to face you on the bed, and cupping your face in his large hands. “Baby girl, you are NOT fat! Why would you say something like that?”

You jerk away from his hold, emotions getting the better of you as you stood to your feet in front of him, gesturing to your body that was still squeezed into the black cocktail dress that you hated so much right now. “Are you blind? Look at me Jensen! I’m fat! I don’t need you to lie to me because you feel that you have to because we’re married! I’m not a moron. I look in the mirror everyday! I’m FAT!”

Your tone was harsh as it all tumbled out of you, but Jensen just gave you a sad look, not interrupting, just letting you get it all out of your system. Once you were done, and just flopped back down on the bed in defeat, Jensen grabbed your hand, and pulled you over to the mirror, stopping you in front of it, and guiding your gaze to the reflection that was staring at you as he stood behind you, brushing your hair away from your face as his eyes raked down your body.

“Can I tell you what I see?” He asked, but you just shook your head, and tried to turn away, but he stopped you.

“Jay, please, I know what I look like....”

“I never said let me tell you what you see, I want to tell you what I see.” Jensen said, turning you back to the mirror as you let out a deep breath in defeat, choosing silence in fear of hurting his feelings when he’d done nothing wrong.

“I see a strong, beautiful young woman, who is way more than I ever deserved. I see a woman who knows just what to do to drive me crazy in the best ways. I see someone that’s stood by me when most people would have walked away from me. I see a woman who I can’t go to sleep at night unless she’s tucked into my arms. I see my reason for waking up in the morning. I see the woman I love with everything in me. I see the woman I want to have a family, grow old with, and be buried next to someday.”

He reached around and brushed the tears aways before leaving a trail of soft, open mouth kisses down the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. His big hands slide down to lay over your stomach that you hated so much before his eyes met yours in the mirror, his gaze soft and warm laced with love that you sometimes forgot to look for when you needed to feel it the most.

“I don’t love you because of the way you look, but baby let me tell you nobody drives me as crazy as you do. Do you seriously think some skinny little bitch could handle me? Baby girl, I’d split her open,” he all but growled, nipping at the shell of your ear to drive his point home, sending a warm shiver down your back, letting you momentarily forget what you were even upset about as heat pooled through your body at the slightest touch.

“Those women in the industry, they’re not real women. You have the body of a real woman. Safe, warm, mine.” Turning you abruptly in his arms his lips found yours in a heated kiss that left you breathless and your world spinning when he finally pulled away from you. “I don’t want you to ever say that you're fat again, because you're not a baby girl. To me you're perfect, and that’s all that matters. I don’t give a shit about what people think. If they attack my girl, then they will live to regret it. You're gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet tomorrow night, and when we get back to that hotel room, I’m gonna show you just how crazy that damn dress is driving me.”

Jensen's gaze darkened as his eyes roamed your body, and he licked his lips as if already plotting just how he was going to ruin you when you got to California.

“Why wait until tomorrow night, when we got all night to pack?” you asked him, running your fingers through his hair that had been getting longer ever since Supernatural had ended, enjoying the almost purr that fell from his lips as he nuzzled deeper into your touch before his gaze found yours again, pulling you tighter into his hold.

“Because, I don’t want you to get mad okay? But there’s something I really want you to do for me right now,” he said, his eyes searching yours waiting on your response, and when you said nothing, just stood there on pins and needles, he brushed your lips with the pad of his thumb and placed his lips to your forehead before he finally told you what was on his mind.

“I want you to take a pregnancy test for me,” he said in a soft voice, so soft that you almost weren’t sure you heard him correctly at first, but pulling back to meet his gentle gaze you knew you had.

“A pregnancy test?” you asked him in disbelief, still unsure whether you should be offended or not.

“Baby, hear me out,” he said, sensing your change in demeanor. “You’ve been really emotional for a few weeks now. This isn’t the first time I caught you crying this week, and not just over something like this. You’re also three days late for your period, and we have been trying. I think you might be a pregnant sweetheart. It would explain why you're feeling this way.”

You swallowed hard and nodded as you thought back over the emotional wreck you had been all month long, and the longer you thought about it, the more you thought he could be right.

Giving him a quick peck on the lips, you slip out of his hold, and make your way to the bathroom to take the test. Your brain and body felt numb as your mind rolled over possible symptoms. The queasy feeling you passed off as bad Chinese food. The headaches. The extreme fatigue. The late period.

You didn’t even get the cap on before two pink lines appeared on the screen in front of you, and tears filled your eyes as you felt Jensen’s strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a kiss that knocked the wind slap out of you. In that moment, it didn’t matter what the mirror said, or the assholes online said. At that moment, your body didn’t feel like an utter failure. All you could think about was the little miracle growing inside of you as you both held onto each other for a moment, and when Jensen turned you to the bathroom mirror, both of you with wet eyes and happy expressions staring back at you, Jensen brought his lips down to the top of your head.

“See, I told you. Now baby, do you see what I see, because I see my beautiful wife, and mother of my child. What I saw from the moment I met you.”

You nod and turn to press your lips to his again, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, now that it all made sense as to why you were all over the place all week. Your body was doing just what it was designed to do, and for the first time, you looked in the mirror, and didn’t hate what you saw.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

Mirror Mirror Tags: @tuataracda123 @woodworthti666

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles x plus sized!reader #plus sized!reader #plus sized!reader inserts #x reader inserts #dean winchester #jensen x plus sized!reader #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jawritter #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Note

Hey :)

So, I know I just left a request already but the thing is that there's definitely not enough Blush in the Newsies Fandom, and therefore I wanted to ask for 10 ("Who are you?") for Blush in the canon era. Either some getting-to-know each other, or maybe (to make it more angsty) some kind of temporary amnesia thing or that maybe Blink's other eye slowly stops working? (At this point I'm just rambling, but I hope that's something to work with; I really like your writing)

Thank you! You’re right that we need more blush in this fandom, especially since like 80% of us see them as canon. I’m gonna go the kinda flangst route with this!

Sorry this took so long, but I struggled with and scrapped like 6 different ideas before coming up with something I felt good about. This takes place about a year before the strike.

Tw: referenced parent death, implied period-typical homophobia, referenced past child abuse.

...

Mush was woken up by a loud thud, like something hitting the floor.

He was very confused about what was going on until he looked down and saw Blink on the floor.

He was just sitting there, not quite upright, like he’d fallen out of bed and was too disoriented by getting woken up suddenly to move.

“Blink?”

He didn’t respond, and Mush was starting to wonder if he was really awake at all, or if he was... what, sleepwalking?

Honestly, Mush was starting to question if he was even awake. None of the others were, and that thud of Blink hitting the ground had been pretty loud.

Dream or not, he dropped down from his bunk, careful to land quietly next to his sweetheart.

It seemed like none of the others had been disturbed, which was probably a good thing. They all needed the rest. Jack and Crutchie were up sleeping on the roof like they always did in the summers and others all were still asleep.

“Blink?” Mush whispered.

He just kept staring at the ground, dazed, like he didn’t even hear him.

“Blink, are you okay?”

Blink flinched backward, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face, and Mush froze with his hand halfway between them.

Nightmare. It had to be.

What was it that Jack did when things like this happened?

Mush didn’t know, but he knew he had to do something. He did know something that might get Blink’s attention and snap him out of it. Something none of the others knew.

“Louis.”

Blink’s good eye snapped to attention, but not in a good way.

Mush felt a chill at how he wasn’t looking at him so much as through him.

“Who are you?”

His voice was haunted. Hollow, not even a hint of recognition there.

God, if this was what always happened when he had nightmares, Mush had no idea how Jack could ever calm him down.

He was going to try, anyway.

“It’s me,” Mush said, trying to keep his voice calm, “Mush Meyers. Your... your best friend. Ya don’t know me?”

Blink shook his head rapidly, curling in on himself like he was expecting a blow, “No. No. I’m sorry. No.”

That wasn’t good. Blink never apologized. If he was sorry for something, he let you know in more tangible ways. Actions over words.

Much needed to ground him. Now. He didn’t really know how, but... if Blink didn’t remember him, he guessed he should..?

“Do ya remember when you and me first met?” he asked, “We was 9 years old. My mom and pop had just died. I was friends with Jack, Crutchie, and Specs already, so they’d told me I could come here if anythin’ ever happened. I saw ya for the first time sitting out on the fire escape when Specs was introducin’ me to everybody. He told me not to bother ya, so we didn’t talk for a while.”

Mush paused, watching Blink’s face carefully for any sign of recognition.

He was still just staring into space, but he looked more confused than blank now, so Mush kept going.

“Everybody was upset cause Jack was in the Refuge for the first time and we was all worried, but it hit you hard cause you were alone. The others were all grouped up to support each other, but they was all avoidin’ you cause ya scared ‘em. You get defensive when you’re scared, so’s nobody can hurt ya.”

Still no real recognition, but Blink was at least looking more responsive to what he was saying.

“I offered to be your sellin’ partner after a couple days, cause I didn’t see what everybody was so scared of,” Mush recalled, “Not till you a gave me this look like you were gonna gut me in an alleyway. But I sold with ya anyway, and I kept sellin’ with ya even after Jack broke out and everythin’ got normal ‘round here. Best choice I ever made, to stick it out with you.”

Blink smiled distantly, barely, but it was there.

“Yeah, Blink, I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t met you,” he continued, “I definitely wouldn’t know how to read people as well as I do. Remember when we were 12 and the Delanceys jumped me behind Jacobi’s? You seemed so angry while you patched me up, but I knew it was just cause you was worried.”

He was relaxing a little bit, his body language no longer wracked with fear.

Mush risked a glance around the room, just making sure that all the others were still asleep.

“You wouldn’t tell me I was your best friend until we were 11,” he said quietly, “Too damn stubborn. Ya don’t bury all your feelings like some people, but ya also never say it if you’re scared or sad or care about someone.”

Making sure it was clear what he was doing beforehand, Mush scooted a little closer to whisper to him.

“That’s why it was such a surprise when ya told me you had feelings for me last month. Asked to be a thing. You said—��

“You’re the only one what sees the good in everyone,” Blink mumbled, cutting him off, “Even people who hide it on purpose.”

He met Mush’s eyes, and it was obvious that Blink was now a lot more present in there.

“I’d be a fool to let that slip away.”

Mush hesitated, then held out an arm, knowing Blink wouldn’t take that offer if he wasn’t ready to be touched.

To his surprise, Blink went to him without hesitation, the tension leaving his body in one breath as he tucked his head against Mush’s shoulder and let himself be hugged.

He was covered in sweat, and Mush could practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. Whatever that had been, whatever nightmare had triggered it, had clearly taken a lot out of him.

“Did I scare ya?” Blink asked quietly, after a minute of just sitting there on the floor in silence.

“No. Worried me a bit, though.”

He wasn’t lying. Mush had never been afraid of Blink. He’d been able to see why others were, with that fierce, cynical air he put up in self defense, but Mush didn’t really fear anyone, honestly, since he’d gotten good at understanding people. If you understood why someone was doing what they were doing, you didn’t have to fear even the people you hated or were angry with.

Blink, specifically, had never scared him because he’d been able to tell from pretty close to the beginning that Blink didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just acted like he did so that he wouldn’t get hurt himself.

He’d wondered why before. This was making him wonder again, but he wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.

A part of him was scared of the answer, remembering how Blink had flinched when he tried to touch him before. He hoped he was wrong.

Blink seemed to guess where his thoughts were going and he sighed bitterly, moving up onto the bed and pulling Mush up with him.

“The nightmares are a nice little souvenir from Mom and Dad,” he admitted softly, “They’re... I don’t have them so much as I used to anymore, but... how did ya think I lost my eye?”

So Mush was right. He hated that he was, but... well, he couldn’t say he’d never guessed this before.

“That’s why ya got so weird whenever I brought up missin’ my folks way back when. You didn’t get it cause you didn’t miss yours.”

Blink nodded, “I ran away when I was 7. Wound up here. My folks came lookin’ for me a couple times, but Manhattan’s leader at the time turned ‘em away at the door. Good thing. I’d probably be dead if he’d let them take me.”

Mush didn’t want to think about a world where that happened, “Jack wouldn’ta let him.”

He smiled, “Probably not.”

That smile faded a little too quickly, but Mush didn’t know what to say to fix it.

He could barely see Blink in what moonlight was coming in through the window, but he reached over to push his hair off his face anyway, careful to come at him from the side with his working eye.

Blink leaned his face into the touch with a deep breath.

“Wish I hadn’t wasted so much time back then, assumin’ everyone was out to hurt me. I’da become friends with you a lot faster if I hadn’t.”

“I did think you was a bit of a dick when we first met,” Mush admitted, “But hey, whatever ya have to do to feel safe.”

Blink shrugged, “Well, you feel safest when you’re surrounded by people ya trust and it works out alright for you.”

Usually it did. Mush always tried to be as kind as he could afford to be, and that meant he had friends everywhere.

Blink had a tendency, almost an instinct, even today at age 15 to make people want to avoid him.

It was kind of funny how the few friends they’d told about their relationship hadn’t been surprised at all, despite how different they were. Sun and moon. Practically direct opposites.

“I’d rather you act like an asshole than end up dead. You mean a lot to me, Blink.”

“You mean a lot to me, too, Mush.”

Mush took the awkward silence that followed that as a signal to give him one last smile and climb up to his bunk, but Blink grabbed his wrist at the last second to stop him.

“Stay down here?”

He didn’t have to answer out loud for them to curl up together, cuddling on that bottom bunk.

#newsies #blush newsies #blush #kid blink newsies #mush newsies #mush meyers #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #canon era #parent death tw #past child abuse tw #abusive parents tw #violet’s writing

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xazz · 4 years ago

Photo

Moth Wings 1

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, Insect wings (but no bugs of any sort), fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

Extra warning for this chapter: there’s like a weird egg hatching scene. It isn’t graphic but if that freaks you out you’ve been warned.

Ayyye Vampire AU. Because who doesn’t like a vampire AU? This is “technically” the first part of chapter 1 but I’m cutting it up and posting it in shorter parts. If you want to read the full like... 10k long chapter 1 it’s available on my patreon (see blog page for details).

———

It had been a long year.

Altair was at his usual spot lately. He’d been spending more and more hours every day for the past few weeks. The chrysalis had been getting more and more opaque as the weeks had gone on and the master demanded someone be there to watch it. And it certainly wouldn’t be one of the coven. So it fell to Altair.

He was supposed to stay up all day and night with it now. Someone at least came and gave him food and drink. Half the time he just tried to not fall asleep, entertaining himself with his sketchbook, his one reprieve in this dark world he’d found himself in.

But finally.

Finally.

The chrysalis was hatching.

It was the middle of the day and the masters were asleep. But it didn’t matter to the one in the chrysalis. The fragile skin surrounding it splintered and a clear fluid leaked out and dribbled on the stone floor. Altair only left to get a mop and water. He knew he’d have to clean it anyway so he might as well prepare. There were already blankets and towels at the ready in tall stacks surrounding the altar the chrysalis was on.

Altair just sat and waited. He’d been instructed not to touch the chrysalis. Either it emerged on its own and was strong enough to join the coven, or it died in birth. Altair thought that was a pretty mean way to welcome a child into the world. But what did he know? This wasn’t his world. This was the world of the night. A world of darkness. A sleepless world for Altair.

An hour ticked by. Another. Slowly the cracks formed fractures and then rips in the fragile membrane of the chrysalis. He saw something moving in there, backlit by the chandelier overhead.

Then finally, well past noon, the chrysalis split. Embiotic juices splashed across the altar and floor and a figure tumbled out, onto the altar.

It was the size of a small child and looking at it Altair could hardly believe it was a vampire. It looked so thin and fragile. It’s black eyes were huge, its teeth comically too big for its mouth, its skull shape wrong to fit all those teeth. Its wings were damp and delicate, stuck to its back like paper.

Unlike a human newborn it didn’t cry when it came into the world. It was too large. This was a vampire infant but it was nothing like a human infant. It was already as big as a toddler. It just looked at Altair with its big black eyes, breathing through its mouth, his nose clogged with mucus.

He started when it squeaked. Almost like a cat. “Oh, right,” he muttered and grabbed some towels and gathered the infant up. He wiped it down and it made more soft little squeaking noises at him. So unlike human babies. It was more like the noise baby animals made when they were hungry.

He swallowed realizing he might be the meal the masters intended for the newborn.

But that made no sense. He was much too big. Also they wouldn’t just throw him away like that. Or he hoped not.

He unwrapped the child and swaddled it again in some blankets. “Yes yes, let’s get you some food,” and he left the hatching room. He hadn’t left this room in days. What a relief it was. And it was still light out.

He went to the kitchens and there were fowl livestock for the lower members of the coven here. And he knew in the cellar were the... human livestock. He refused to think about it. Instead he put the child on the floor and went to get a syringe. He’d drawn blood from the animal livestock enough for the lower members of the coven to know how to do it without really hurting the animal. He stabbed a duck and drew a measure of blood. The duck was very unhappy about that but couldn’t easily protest locked in its little cage.

Altair sat at the kitchen table with the babe in his lap and let it lap up blood from the syringe. The masters would probably be furious knowing their spawn’s first meal had been game but Altair wasn’t allowed in the cellar. Even if he was he wouldn’t draw blood from humans. He couldn’t. It wasn’t like they were awake to take care of it. Altair had a feeling that’d be his job now.

“Better?” he asked the little spawn after it had licked up all the blood out of the big syringe. It just yawned at him and closed its eyes. “Oh good,” he yawned and slumped in the chair. He was so tired. Now that the child was hatched maybe he could finally get some sleep again. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and despite himself he fell asleep.

He was woken by a commotion in the kitchen and loud voices. He sat up. The child was still in his lap, starting to fuss from the noise. Altair patted its back, rousing himself. He couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. Not nearly enough to make up for the sleepless weeks he’d had leading up to yesterday.

“Where’d he go?” he heard one of the adults call and Altair knew he was being spoken of.

“Well… time to meet the family,” he sighed to the child, who was still fussing. He got up, holding the child to his chest, and left the kitchen. He climbed the stairs up to the dining room where several members of the coven were, talking loudly, annoyedly.

As soon as he entered the room they all looked towards him, drawn by his smell as much as the noise, and the smell of the newborn he was sure. “Where have you been?” the Matron shrieked.

“Down in the kitchen, mistress,” he kept his eyes down so he couldn’t even see her. She flew over to him and his hands went limp as she snatched the child from his grasp. “They were hungry.”

“Hmph,” and she stormed back down into the kitchen with the child. Probably to go to the cellar.

“Go clean up the mess, Altair,” said one of the children.

“Yes, young master,” he said and shuffled away. As he did he felt them watching him. He hoped it wasn’t in hunger.

He went back to the hatching chamber to his mop and bucket. He put the now empty chrysalis in another basin. The master would want it. For what he didn’t know. Altair knew better than to ask. He then slopped the now cold soapy water across the altar and floor and set about mopping up. He ended up half falling asleep standing up, using the mop to keep him upright. Only when he almost took a header into the altar did he try and wake himself more and stay more alert to finish the chore.

Once he was done he made sure the rest of the hatching chamber was in order, he put away all the cleaning supplies and made sure the chamber was neat and tidy for if the Matron came by to inspect his work. Then he took the basin with the chrysalis and went to the master’s study.

The master was there already, smoking out of a long silver pipe, reading an old book. The master’s study was his collection of books and artifacts from the world over. He’d been alive centuries and knew all sorts of things. Sometimes when he was in a good mood he’d take the time he’d tell Altair some of the things he knew. “Master,” he said at the open door. “I brought the chrysalis as you asked.”

“Yes yes, bring it in, Altair,” he beckoned. Altair entered and set the basin down on the desk. “That is all, Altair.”

“Master,” Altair didn’t leave quite yet. “May I sleep now?”

The old vampire chuckled. “Yes. I supposed you’ve been a good little human. You may sleep the night. But tomorrow night.”

“Yes, master,” he bowed a little, still not lifting his eyes even enough to see what he looked like.

Altair retreated and went back to his little room and used one of the wall lamps to light a worn candle to provide light in the room. It was a broom closet they’d allowed him to have so he wasn’t sleeping on the floor. They might not have been human but his masters refused to be ‘animals’ they said. He also knew he should be grateful for a bed, a stool, candles, and a piss pot. They reminded him often that the humans down in the cellar slept on straw like proper livestock and they all just used a corner for their business.

There was an old jug of water in the room. He wet a cloth and wiped himself off as he was sticky from cleaning the hatching chamber and the child. Then he removed all his clothing and crawled into his little cot with the thin blanket. There was no pillow but it hardly mattered. He laid on his stomach and was asleep in only a few heart beats.

#Assassin’s Creed #AltMal #Altair #malik al-sayf #Desmond Miles #Moth Wings

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jae-sch-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Despite the Doubts

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester (really just mentioned than actual story play), Castiel (mentioned)

Word Count: 965

Genre: flangst (my specialty)

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Sam comforts the Reader and helps them through the doubts they have about hunting.

Warnings: mentions of childrens’ death, one swear word, mention of blood

Song Mentioned: Wheel in the Sky by Journey

A/N: Huge shout out to @broken-horn for mentioning me in this post for some Samspiration! You’re awesome!

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

Everything was wrong. Sam and Dean had given you the case. They put you in charge, and you failed. Too many kids had died on the hunt. One was too many, and you lost five. The families, hell, the whole town now hated you, but no one hated you more than you hated yourself.

You sat in the back of the Impala. There wasn’t the usual post-hunt chatter; the only sounds were the hum of the engine and “Wheel in the Sky” playing softly in the background. The Winchesters let you sit without talking. Sam occasionally glanced back at you, but you didn’t notice. He was worried. He knew how you could get when someone died under your protection, especially when that someone was a child.

Once you got to the Bunker, Dean didn’t even have time to put the car in park before you climbed out of the Impala and ran to your room. You needed to be alone and the boys understood that. You felt guilty, despicable, and disgusted with yourself. You felt like a failure.

A couple of hours after you had gotten home, Sam came knocking on your door. “Y/N,” Sam tapped softly on your door, “can I come in?”

You remained silent, but Sam opened your door anyway. There was an understanding of sorts between you and the boys: if you stayed silent after a few hours, they would check on you and would go away only if you asked them. Sometimes you needed someone there but you didn’t want to admit it. Sam knew this, he was the same way at times.

Sam saw that you were still in your muddy and bloody clothes. The only dirt that had been washed off of your face was indicated by tear streaks. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, staring a blank space on your wall, something you commonly did when a hunt went badly.

“Hey, so um, I brought you some food. Nothing big. Just a, uh, a pear and, you know, a burger, in case you were in the mood. You don’t have to eat now if you’re not feeling up to it.” You continued to sit in silence, barely acknowledging Sam’s presence. “Oh, there’s some water there, too. Just because I’m sure you haven’t had any in a while. I’ll just leave these here. I’ll check back in about an hour, see how you’re feeling.”

“Stay.”

“What was that?”

“Please,” you’re voice cracked. “Please stay.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Can I sit down?”

You nodded your head and as soon as Sam lowered himself onto your bed, you laid your head on his lap. Sam honestly wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t unlike you to be distant for a while and then suddenly crave physical touch. Sam just ran his hand through your sweaty, muddy hair.

“I know this hunt was tough, Y/N. Every hunt where we lose someone on the job is rough, especially when that someone was a kid and you were in charge of the hunt.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m getting there,” Sam continued to brush your hair and even occasionally ran his hand over your arm. “My point is, every hunt, no matter how well or terrible it went, makes us better hunters. Every time we lose someone, we find ways to avoid that on the next hunt. Every time a job is successful, we follow those footsteps as close as we can on the next one.

“Yeah, every single time we go on a hunt I have my doubts on my capabilities to handle it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. I’m going to continue fighting, despite all my past failures and all of my doubts. And that’s why I know you can too. Life gives us a bunch of shit, but that’s never stopped us, and I honestly don’t think it will anytime soon.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

You sat up from Sam’s lap and gave him a hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his shoulder.

“Of course. Hey, can I tell you something that only Dean and Cas know? It’s really embarrassing, but it might make you feel better.”

“Sam, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’m going to. Okay, so you know I never go on dates or have one-night-stands or anything like that?”

“Yeah, so that’s not you, so what?”

“Well, that is because ever since I went to Stanford, every single person I’ve been with in that way has died. Well, almost all of them.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you laughed a little at the last comment, “what do you mean almost? Who was the lucky lady to survive? Or guy?” Sam gave you a nasty look. “Hey, I don’t judge, okay? You said ‘person’, not a specific kind.”

“Okay, fine. Well, first of all, it’s only been ladies, and second of all, the only ones to survive were the ones in the second half of 2010.”

“What happened in 2010, Sam?”

“Well, I,” Sam scratched the back of his head, “I was kinda soulless.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, after Lucifer possessed me and I went to the cage, when I came back at first, I was soulless, and the women I slept for those six months are the only people I know of to have survived the ‘Curse of Sam Winchester’.”

“Okay, I have got to hear more about soulless Sam.”

For the rest of the night, Sam told you various stories about his endeavors without a soul, and how for a while he wasn’t even aware of it. And while you still had your doubts about your hunting capabilities, Sam encouraged you to continue fighting despite them.

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meenah-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Requested by: @zimelu-eloni-nova-lycan (hope you see this since I can't tag you ಥ‿ಥ)

My apologies in advance if Malleus is OOC. Other than wanting to play TW and doing a bit of research of him, I know nothing 😂 I never thought of taking requests coz I'm a slow writer but it was quite interesting so I did it anyways. (And took daaays to finish 😂)

To Thine Own Self Be True

An OM! Brothers x GN! Dark Fae MC (slight OM! X Twisted Wonderland crossover)

5.47k words

Genre: flangst

Trigger warnings: self harm, violence, self depreciation? (cringe jk) Read at your own discretion.

"You're an incomplete puzzle... I hope you find your missing pieces." And thus, they were sent to someplace they didn't know...

They... have always been alone. But Y/N is not lonely. They have Malleus, a powerful yet caring brother. They have their grandmother, that even as busy as she is, tries to show her love as much as possible.

They are the only one they need. As long as they have them, they needn't anything else. Or atleast they think so.

"As a part of royal family, you have to broaden your horizon." But they think otherwise.

Before Malleus' departure for Night Raven College, he left Y/N a word, "You're an incomplete puzzle, Y/N. I hope you find your missing pieces." and that was months ago, and they were still confused by it.

Incomplete puzzle... It doesn't feel like they are. They are content of what they have. They capable of doing most tasks perfectly. They fulfill their responsibilities impeccably. It's not like they can't live on their own either. Having no friends and acquaintances but they're two family members is also fine. They don't need any more. No one who could stand their presence anyways.

The intimidating dark energy far more destructive than a fae possessed, in which Y/N could never control. Those menacing, sharp green eyes. Their skin as pale as the dead corpse, and lips charred black. But most of all, those pair of disgustingly sharp, black horns that keeps on growing back no matter how hard they try to get rid of it.

Y/N is the epitome of fear. They knew it more than anyone. If they were to be reckoned that way, it is better to maintain distance from everyone.

But I should fulfill my duty, atleast. They thought, fortifying their resolve as they stood before the future King of Devildom and his butler. "Welcome to Devildom, Y/N Draconia."

"It's an honor to be of your acquaintance, Prince Diavolo." Placing a palm on their chest, Y/N bowed.

As per the two Kingdom's agreement, they were to live in a safe place different from a lavish lifestyle they have been used to inside their gold plated walls. And thus they were led by the Future king's shadow, Barbatos, to their new home. The House of Lamentation.

House of Lamentation. What a gloomy and dreadful place, befitting a sinister being like me. they scoff.

But the sight the dark fae witnessed within that walls was not within their expectations.

"Beel! Don't eat the my wallet! H–Hey, I said let go! My goldie'll snap! B–Belphie, help me!" A white-haired man is pulling a leather wallet from the teeth of a bulky orange-haired one.

"Smells chicken mushroom oil." While the orange head kept their teeth sunk into the wallet almost ripped into two. "It's just a drop, stop going crazy over it!"

"Belphie, wake up! You promised you'll help me with clearing dungeons today! The raid will start anytime now!!" A violet haired male violently shakes an asleep man in blue but the man is far from dazed at all.

"Hrmm... Five more minutes—" "We have no more time!! I can't play with a missing player!"

A feminine faced guy appeared right in front of them, instantly invading their comfort zone and kept locking eyes with them. "Ohh? Who is this with you Barbatos? Ahh, The one moving in! You're quite early, darling. Ignore those bunch in the back and play with me?"

"Behave, you fools!!" A booming voice reverberates and in an instant, the rowdy bunch is silenced. "Such a disgrace..."

Except for one, who didn't make any ruckus until that very moment.

A bucket came flitting up in the air and in the next second, all of its contents all poured on the man who controlled the ruckus a while ago.

"SAAAAATAN!!" It was an utter chaos. This place far from the gloomy place they have in their imagination. It is filled with rabid demons that could obliterate them were they to join forces, and now Y/N have to adjust in this new environment.

"I see it's not a great time to introduce myself." Said Y/N, yet the only one who probably heard them is the butler beside them. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to know where my room is."

"As you wish, your Excellency. Allow me to lead you the way." The butler responded to them. They left the common room, where the rowdy ones moments ago, were trying to suppress the supposedly-most decent of the seven, from destroying the mansion.

Y/N usually do not receive a normal greetings on the events they've been into or more like, forced to come by either their grandmother or by Malleus. It could be the fairies either— gives them space with no one dare shorten the distance; reluctantly greet them before leaving them as fast as they could or; flat out ignore them.

Yet so far, the experience I have today is by all odds, the most insulting way I have ever been greeted. Y/N clasps their trembling hands as they sat on the bed.

I wish this will end sooner. This will be a hell for me...

Almost everyday is a crazy, eventful day. Far different than their everyday life in the Valley of Thorns, their homeland. First impression doesn't really matter to Y/N, but for some reason, they couldn't stand them since day 1. Sure, they haven't done anymore distasteful things like the rude way of welcoming them. Still, the members of the family are crazily weird in their own ways. And they hate it.

Lucifer is the eldest of the brothers. The one who leads the brothers and manage everything in place.

"As your family have wished, you were to live differently than you have thus far. So I won't exempt you with the cooking and housework."

"As a part of Royal family, I expect great things from you. I won't tolerate screw ups."

"Remember to complete your tasks. I am assigned by Diavolo to take care of you, so I will check on your activities throughout your stay here." He is an ass. A bossy and dominating dictator who think he could order a royalty like them.

But one time, when they entered his study, they saw a scene they never thought they'll ever perceive.

*Tak* A fountain pen falling from his gripless hand.

He was splayed on his desk filled with tall stacks of paper, out cold. Y/N didn't know they would witness such vulnerable side of such condescending demon.

So they chose to put off their business for tomorrow, placing his coat over him and letting him rest.

But the event didn't occur only once. Atleast twice a week of exact time before midnight, he's always been unconscious on his desk. That's when Y/N realized: he is not strict and short tempered for no reason.

As the eldest, he took it to himself to be the father figure to the brothers, all while perfectly doing his job as Diavolo's right-hand man. He fulfills his job with perfection. But perfection doesn't come without hardwork nor sacrifices. For the sake of his great responsibility he sacrifice himself, working so hard until he drop on his desk.

With thoughts of him made Y/N ponder over something.

Does having a father feels like having a Lucifer in my life? Maybe it is, they never knew since they never remember their's. He isn't as bad as they thought he were if they think it that way. That is praiseworthy, as they think so themself and deserve some respect.

No more stern expressions whenever speaking to him. Being more compliant if his instruction is reasonable. Thanking him even for a simple thing he does for them.

Soon, they noticed he doesn't nitpick them either and praise them for every job well done. The dark fae may still be annoyed with him but that's not a bad outcome at all.

And then there's Mammon, the second eldest, who is supposed to assist the eldest.

"Ye're a royalty right? So ye're loaded. I'm in a pinch right now so let me borrow from you." He leans on their shoulder, with his smug grin.

"Don't listen to that fool. It's past 200 years and he still haven't paid his debts to me yet."

"Shut up, you otaku!"

Behind violet-haired appears the black haired demon. "MAMMON..."

"EEK— W–Wait!! Lucifer, this is not wha–ACK—!!" Mammon is a scum. A rude demon who could care less of his words and language. Trouble is where he is. Even so, in his tough exterior, Y/N took note of a soft side.

Y/N saw him one time, poking at the mopping otaku demon outside his room. "Yo Levi. What you doin' there?"

"Just let me be... I lose my raid last time because I couldn't play... Now I can't even bear looking at my PC... No one would want to play to a no-show gamer like me..."

"Hmm... Then, it can't be helped. C'mon, your big brother Mammon will play with you!"

"R–Really..?"

"Yeah, Yeah. Let's play to your heart's content" He pulled him up and push him inside his room.

Consoling a sad brother, lending a helping hand when they need it. He may not look like it, but Mammon is also taking good care of his brothers. All the emotional support Lucifer fails to give his brothers, Mammon provides.

So before Mammon entered the room, the dark fae decided to tap his shoulder, earning his attention. "You really love your brothers."

"W–Wha... Where does... who loves—"

"That's really admirable." They promptly reach out a bottle of a jet-black faerie dust only they could concoct. Mammon gingerly took it from them and scanned the inside. "That may help you settle some of your debts. Then..." After giving the bottle, they went on their way.

"AAAAHHHH!! THIS IS ULTRA RARE!" As expected to a man who could appraise goods.

They remember Malleus from his caring side, they couldn't help but smile and commend the yellow demon. I miss my brother...

Leviathan on the other hand, has a different case. He is the third-born of that household. A timid person... At first glance, atleast.

They just can't understand him. He spoke in language they couldn't wrap their head around like, "LOL! ROFLMAO!", "Tss, normie..."

It is tolerable, at least. What they can't tolerate is the fact that,

"UUWAAH!! MY RURI-CHAN LIMITED EDITION COBALT PIN AND FIGURINE IS HERE!!" He is, by far, the loudest. His sudden and unexpected outbursts kept on triggering every jumpy cells in their system.

Leviathan is too hyped he seemed to enter his own dimension. He skipped through the corridor, he sung a Ruri-whatever song that is, until, "Ahh—" he made a misstep in the stairs, a few steps away from them.

Y/N dashed and caught them barely in time, with firm hold between his shoulder blades and another to his package, which should be flying right now but was pressed secured to his chest.

"You should be more careful or you'll hurt yourself. Your treasured package almost fell." They sighed.

"... An angel has descended." He stared at them in awe. As he move his hand to the box, he touched their hand. That's when their position fianally sinks in to him. His face flared beet red and in a few seconds blew a fuse, passing out right on the spot.

"... What a troublesome demon..." With no other choice but to bring him themself, he carried the unconscious Leviathan up to their room. After opening the door, what welcomed them is a messy room.

No, not messy. The room is filled with items and materials of all sorts. Tons of CDs, figurines and posters on shelves and walls. Stuff toys and pillows of all shapes and sizes. Hanged intricate costumes and clothes, which in just a glance, they knew is made with effort. Even pins, threads and needle atop a... Sewing machine? Did he made all of this?

Y/N took another glance on the other side of the room. There he saw three monitors with various programs registered. A game, video editor and a Photoshop... I wonder what else can this man do?

Is this what they call a hobby? Such passion and dedication in pursuit of doing what he loves... An unfamiliar feeling for this dark fae.

They... can't really understand this man. Not at all... But I can now see him in another light, I guess...

The one who sought Y/N first were Beelzebub, the sixth-born. A bulky, tall demon who loves to eat. They were having a snack on the balcony when the older twin sniffs his way in. Such action that freaked the dark fae out internally, considering the sight they witnessed when they first moved in. The fact that they saw a few times 'accidentally' eating inedible things doesn't helped at all either.

"I followed the smell from the kitchen. Your cake smells delicious!" The drooling giant stood by them, and they couldn't take another sip from their tea.

"Hmm... Help yourself." Or you may help yourself with my flesh if I didn't satisfy your hunger.

"Really?!" He sat oposite to them and within minutes, all the plates on the table were wiped clean. "That was delicious!... Ahh that's right. Y/N, why aren't you eating with us during meals?"

"I'm used to eating by myself."

"But why? Eating with someone make the food taste better." Y/N doubt that'll be the case if that someone is him, who could definitely eat them if his appetite cries its needs.

Beelzebub touched his chin, thinking. "Hmm... How about I eat with you during snacks time? I'll bring food you'll definitely like!"

"Ah—" And they lost their timing. His eyes sparkles like stars and the pure happiness in his voice made it impossible for them to refuse. They wouldn't know what he could do were they to decline what he desire.

Since then he would appear without fail during Y/N's snack time, sharing both of their food with each other.

They tried to slowly end such dangerous activity yet, the enthusiasm in his eyes whenever he eat held them back. In the end, Y/N conceded, increasing their baked goods everyday to sate the needs of the ball of sunshine before them– who could bring warmth or burn them. As a response he will also eat it all like it's his first time eating their goods.

He is a man of few words yet, also quite easy to read, especially when eating the sweets they made themself. A straight forward person who means just as he say.

He would even sometimes bring his other twin, who will eat a few bites before snoozing.

"Beel really likes you, you know..." They glanced from their teacup to the youngest, seating beside them as the gobbling twin is busy with his food.

Belphegor stares in an ever-drowsy eyes. He is the man they least interacted with. How can they? Whenever they see him, he is always asleep. And it's not like Y/N is interested in communicating with him or anyone at all. "He even does his research for everything he brings you here. I don't know if you knew, but he really want to convince you to eat meals with everyone."

"...Ehh? Why? We're not even..." Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Because he loves everything you make. He wants to talk to you ever since the first time you cook, but you're too antisocial to even eat with us."

"Says the demon who is always sleeping whenever I see him." Y/N snorts before taking a bite from the cupcake Beel brought. Hmm... this is good...

"...You, are you getting enough sleep?" Belphegor peers at their face.

"...None of your business."

"Whatever..." He frowns before burrying his face on his pillow.

What a keen observant. Y/N thought.

They've also been observing him since the first day. They share a lot of classes together and the dark fae knew, he is someone who rarely attend his classes, and whenever he does, he is always asleep. They also never saw him hold a book, much more read it. Yet, when they have exams, he finishes halfway the alloted time, almost the same time as them and sleeps after. The worst thing is that he could pass them easily.

He... is a dormant monstrosity. They conclude as they unlock the door to their room the day after. But before they do so, they noticed something.

Beside the door is an unfamiliar paper bag and inside... is a pillow, a bit caved it to the top center—similar to the one they use back to their home to be able to sleep well. It also comes with a note:

'The caneles and the stew is passable. You can throw away the pillow if you don't want it. Just know that it took me a great deal of effort to buy that.'

Really, what a frightening observant.

And there is Satan, the fourth-born, a pretty decent guy who craves for nothing but knowledge. If Y/N may say, he is the one they spend the most time with, though it's not that much.

"What are you reading?" Voicing not a word, they faced him the book cover.

"L’intelletto e Il Cuore... Hmm, that's a good choice." With at least 3 meters away from him, and few to no words exchange between them inside the library, it's not really that much.

He is a rational and intelligent man who respects personal space. Though, from time to time he would snicker eerily between the silence they have, holding either a cursed or homicide book. Creepy.

"What did you say...? The books you borrowed from me... Fell in the river? And it was washed away...?" And when he is angry, all his rationality is thrown out of the window.

"I–I will replace it I promise–" Pleads the peach-haired demon, kneeling before him.

"Replace, you say...? Didn't you know they were a Century membership gift to me from the Bibliomagicus Guild? Do you think that's replaceable...? Ha... Haha...HAHAHAHA!! THEN WHY DON'T YOU REPLACE THEM WITH YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE, HUH?!"

His wrath makes Y/N tremble, like all the bookshelves and books present in the library. Right, the books, the bookshelves. He'll destroy everything if this continues.

"Somnus Enim a Dum." So in a snap they cast a spell, amplified by their own dark pixie dust, and render him unconscious.

"Y/N!" That night he showed up in the library, frantically and still disheveled clothes and hair.

"Thank you. I don't know what would've happen if you're not there. And I also apologize you get to see that side of me." It's the first time they ever saw him smile without looking at the book. A smile similar to their brother.

"You're weird. You got so angry because of books that you'll ruin all the other irreplaceable books here."

"..."

"Don't mind it. I'd feel bad if the books are ruined."

"...Right." He chuckled, brushing his hair with his fingers and fixing his clothes to place. He then picked up the book he's reading, pulling the other sofa to sit beside them.

Now that's annoying. Nevertheless they let him. For they're a mere guest.

The fifth-born, Asmodeus, is not a problem back then. Having only a few occasional invitations for salon and parties, they could decline politely. But after the book incident, everything about his approach changes.

Since then, there was Asmodeus, everywhere!

In the classroom, in the library, in the music room, in the planetarium, in the balcony, in the bed, even the bathroom! He won't give them a break!

"Y/N~ I noticed you're always with Satan in the library. Are you getting along well? Beel too, you always bake and eat with him. That's so unfair! And you invite Belphie without me? Don't tell me you already like one of them?"

"If you'll choose one of us, shouldn't you choose me, the most beautiful demon of them all? I swear I can love you thousandfold than any of them, but... of course you can only be my second~~"

"What's with you and Lucifer? You always went to him every night. Is it a nightly endeavor? Hey~? Y/N, don't ignore me~!" He is a complete chatterbox. A motormouthed demon who don't know when to shut up.

But being with him comes with a few merits. Despite not looking like it, Asmodeus is a real gentleman. He maybe not as keen as Belphegor's capability to observe, but Asmodeus is an attentive and thoughtful demon. He does his everything to provide every small help he could give to them.

Whilst not needing help, it's much better than him being a clingy, dead weight. Y/N tries to look at the bright side.

"But this is tiring..." Y/N sighed, closing the book they are holding.

"Are you tired of reading? C'mon, let's go out and breathe fresh air!" I'm tired of you, you idiot.

"If you want to go out, you can go." The dark fae massaged their temple. It's been throbbing from time to time after that incident with Satan and Asmodeus bugged them.

"No! You've always been cooping yourself here or your room since coming here. You have to go out from time to time or you'll wither away!"

"You're so noisy Asmo. Y/N said they don't want to go." Asmodeus pout at Satan sitting beside Y/N, before pulling the dark fae out of the library and House of Lamentation.

"I'm telling you, I don't need this." Asmodeus holds 5 hangers of clothes, pondering which one fit them best.

"But~ It's such a waste for a beautiful person like you if you don't try dolling yourself up..." They stare at Asmodeus as if he just said the most ridiculous thing he could ever say.

"Don't tell me..." Asmodeus stared at them in disbelief, gasping dramatically like he always does,t "Y/N, YOU'RE GORGEOUS! DON'T EVER THINK YOU'RE NOT! YOU'RE A DROP DEAD BEAUTY AND—" They covered his lips before he could even shout louder in such a public place.

He then pulled their hands off after a few moments. "And look! A bit of blush suits you! And black lipstick—" Y/N let him dressed them up— in exchange of shutting up. He chose meticulously, accenting every parts that they consider an abomination. A dizzying position they were in.

But the real deal has yet to come. What's worse than being bothered by a bug? More bugs...

"Asmo, are you nuts! You're hogging them all to yourself!" Mammon barged in their room as Asmo is applying makeup to them who gave up on him for a while now.

"Y/N couldn't come to our snack time because of you." Beel and Belphegor followed close behind, clearly unamused of Asmo's action.

"I haven't even got a chance to introduce them to the wonders of anime and games!" So do is Leviathan.

"They prefer reading in the library more, right Y/N?" Satan rest his back on the door frame, crossed arms.

"Excuse me? If I may say, Satan, Beel and Belphie are the one who took their time more than I!"

"YOU—" And their greatest fear since living in Devildom occurs. All hell broke loose. An all out brawl of the short tempered demons before them with all the six brothers, a thread away from transforming and blasting everything they touch. No... That's not it. Without transforming, they're already smashing everything into pieces.

The dressers. The desk. The chairs and mirrors. Everything but the bed they are sitting on.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE!" The last and the strongest of the brothers made his appearance, yelling in his most intimidating voice.

And they...finally snapped.

"Each and everyone of you... GET. OUT!!!" Such horror reflected on their eyes, with their whole being trembling uncontrollably. Tears poured down one after another. All of the emotions the brothers have never seen them make all spilled before them. As if a predator threatened to the end of their life.

On their hands...

were horns severed from their own head. The seven demons were so taken aback their bodies moved on their own to comply to Y/N's order... or more like, plead.

And the doors were completely closed.

They never left their ransacked room. They wouldn't open their doors to anything. No food, gifts nor even apologies. All but the brothers' words received a single response: "Malleus... I want my brother."

Hence the brothers and future king have no choice but to call him as soon as possible, or they will perish inside such place, alone like they've always been.

"Thank you for taking good care of my sibling. I hope you will continue so in the future."

"We also hoped we could. Yet considering the circumstances, I doubt they would want to stay here a second longer."

"Let—" but before Malleus could even finished his sentence, Y/N came flying down on him.

The distressed fae buried their face in their safe haven's chest. He then proceed carrying them in his arms, assuring them they are safe.

Lucifer led them to the music room, giving them privacy in their conversation.

"You've become so light, Y/N. And what happened to your horns?"

"...I wanna go home."

"Why? Do you hate this place?"

"I'm scared of them since the first day."

"That's understandable... But is that all?" Y/N stare at him in disbelief, while Malleus smiling softly at them.

"...Then what else... should I feel? I know I'm a monster... But that doesn't mean I could live with such monstrous demons! I'm just a monster with a weak heart!"

"Then you can blame it all on me. I'm the one who chose this place for you after all." All words were blown off Y/N's mind. The furrow between their eyebrows disappears as their face relaxes.

"Brother... But why?"

"I want you to realize your own self."

"..."

"Now answer me. You said you're scared of them, but do you hate them? Do you want to leave this place so badly? Is that really everything you've felt in this place?"

"Of course! I... I..." Y/N already knew the answer to his question, way before he even asked.

"They were annoying, noisy and self-centered bunch who does things as they pleased. They keep dragging me on their antics, I never had a peace of mind... I hated it, I despise it. I..." They bit their lips.

"I felt so frustrated! Why do they look so lively and happy despite being so unruly? They're always on each others neck yet they were having fun? Why?! And hobbies? How can they have such thing? I have nothing of sort! I just wake up day after day, desperately searching for something and fill this empty void inside me!"

"I fulfill my responsibilities without fail, on what cause? I have no purpose! Seeing that demons made me feel so miserable with my existence!"

They looked on their lap, holding back the tears on verge of falling. "What do they have that I don't? They're also the strongest, incredibly so that even I shook when they unleash their power! So why aren't they isolated like I am? How can they live a normal life unlike me?!"

"I think you already know the answer."

"...Because... They rely on each other. I never relied on anyone nor let anyone rely on me..." Malleus' smile widens when they hit the nail on the head.

"You're a strong person, Y/N. You won't even depend on us, not until today. You're capable of anything. You're just afraid of any more rejection, of being left behind." He paused and lift their face to meet his eyes, "Diavolo and others explained to me what happened. They said the incident frightened you. Yet knowing you, I doubt it is fear. Will you tell me why you blew off?"

"...I was overwhelmed. They were fighting over me. It never happened to me before so don't know what to feel. The attention was too much that I hated it. And I don't know how to respond to them..."

"So you brushed them off and isolated yourself." They nod weakly.

"And you snapped your horns to show them you're not who they think you are; to scare them off."

"Something like that..." Malleus smiled at them as he pet their head. "See? It's not bad being honest to yourself. Do you still want to leave, now that you let it all off your chest?"

Y/N shooked their head. "I want to stay."

"My Y/N is amazing... To surpass all the beings who estranged them. You're all grown up now." He held them in his arms, Y/N nuzzling onto his chest.

"Come on, they've been waiting for you for the longest time. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes." They left the room, Y/N clinging to him like never before. As childish as it seems, Malleus knew they grew a lot in just a few months of living in Devildom. It is indeed a great decision to choose the brothers to take care of them. They were no longer the incomplete puzzle he saw before he left for his studies.

"Y–Y/N..." Waiting in the common room are the seven brothers with Diavolo and Barbatos.

"W–We understand if you really want to l–leave." Mammon looked down as he clenched his fist.

"It was our fault." Leviathan followed.

"We've been insensitive, pressuring you despite knowing you're not accustomed interacting with a lot of people." Satan said with a serious frown.

"We even destroyed your belongings." Asmodeus glanced away, holding onto Satan's jacket.

"We'll make it up to you in any form."

"Y/N, sorry." Belphegor and Beel voiced respectively.

"It was due to my negligence you have to experience such incident. I also want to apologize." Lucifer held his palm to his chest for a slight bow.

"N–No!" Y/N strongly shook their head, "I should be the one to apologize! I'm so sorry!!" before bowing deeply.

"Y/N!? No, please raise your head—" Diavolo held Lucifer's shoulder to stop him like Malleus cued to let his sibling continue.

"It was all my fault! I've been a coward all this time. I was wrong for trying to push you all away when you don't mean harm. It was all my fault for venting all my frustrations to you. Please, if you would still allow it, I want to stay a bit longer."

"Y/N you are more than welcome here so please raise your head now. We don't deserve your apologies." Satan was the first one who walked towards them to raise their head.

"Y/N?!!" But as he did so, a crying Y/N appears in the brothers' view.

"This is the first time I will ever ask someone but," they sob and sniff, "will you guys be my friends?"

"Y–Yes, so please stop crying!" As conflicted as the brothers are, being asked such question that could hinder their future plans with them, they were forced to agree to their wish instantly.

Let's leave it for another day... The same phrase runs in the thoughts of the brothers, a very rare occurence to happen once in a millenium.

With Asmodeus' lead—he, Mammon, Leviathan, and Beel wrapped their arms around them to console the crying faerie. Lucifer, Satan and Belphegor stood a feet away from them, watching the five in the middle.

As things calms down, they decided to sit on the same dinner table for the very first time. Food were served by Barbatos, who prepares who knows when. He could actually have predicted such outcome for all they know.

The place were so warm, and lively. "This tastes wonderful." That's an understatement. The food have the richest taste than everything Y/N ate in their entire life. "You're right, Beel. Food were best eaten with someone." Beel have them a toothy grin. "I'm glad you get me."

After the meal, Y/N fell asleep on the spot. "Hehe, they're so carefree now." Belphegor played with their fringe. They didn't woke them up and instead carry them in a new room, letting them have the deep sleep they couldn't have for days.

"Congratulations, for being Y/N's first friends. I'll leave them in your care." Malleus bid his farewell to everyone, not bothering of waiting for Y/N to wake up. "I also hope this incident will be the last one."

"Yes, we won't let such thing happen again, and ensure a comfortable life for Y/N throughout their stay here." Diavolo answers in stead of everyone. The brothers are not in the shape to reply as they absorb Malleus' first sentence.

First friend. Such a bitter-sweet word. Whether the word stings them or not, it doesn't matter. It won't stop the brothers from trying to achieve the same goal as subtle as possible.

And so, a not-so-obvious scramble goes on.

This took longer than I expect 🤣😂 In all honesty, it was quite challenging, making a blatant All Brothers x MC. I also don't have a plot and flow until I actually wrote it sksksk dunno if that's a good or bad thing 😂🤣 and this was the longest one I wrote for the past half a year.

Masterlist

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superapplepie · 6 years ago

Text

Mix-ups, Mistakes, and Misunderstandings

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word count:1809

Warnings: Flangst?

Thank you @like-a-bag-of-potatoes for being my beta and thank you @lookitschynna for fueling my obsession.

You were one of the 43 ‘special’ children born on that October day back in 1989. However, you weren’t adopted into the Hargreeves family like the others. Infact, you had gone undetected until you hit the age of 13. Word of your healing powers got back to Reginald and he quickly made arrangements for the you to come live with him and the rest of the Umbrella Academy. At first you felt betrayed by your parents for giving into his demands and money. As time went on however, you adjusted to your new life, and eventually grew to accept that they wouldn’t have been able to handle your growing powers.

It didn’t take long for you to make friends with everyone, including Vanya. You never quite understood why everyone treated her the way they did, and at this point you were too afraid to ask. Diego and Klaus soon became your best friends, the three of you were inseparable. Years passed and your relationship with Diego began to change into something more, pretty soon you two started dating. He was a vigilante of the night, and you were his saving grace. You often used you healing powers to fix various cuts or bullet holes he received while saving the innocent.

So when your phone rang just after midnight, you weren’t surprised to hear Diego’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d often call on his way home so you’d have time to get up and be ready. However, this phone call was slightly different than the usual. It seems Diego had gotten himself in some trouble and was currently sitting in a cell down at the city’s police station. Sighing as you slid for the comforts of your bed, you pulled on some clothes and grabbed your keys heading for the car.

When you arrived at the station, you filled out the usual paperwork and paid the bail money needed to get Diego out again. After waiting a while, you were finally approached by a female detective.

“Hi, I’m Detective Patch. Are you here for Diego?” she introduced herself with a professional tone.

“Uh yeah, I am. I’m Y/N.” you said trying to match the tone.

“Follow me, I’ll take you to his cell,” Detective Patch said, motioning for you to follow her. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him this time? Maybe convince him to stay out of my hair from now on.” She glanced at you with a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try my best. Diego’s not really known for following the rules though,” you said with a slight laugh.

Patch led you down a corridor with cells on one side. She stopped at the very last one, tapping on the bars to announce her presence. You stood back, enough to be out of the way. You could hear Diego before you saw him. His smooth voice flooded your ears, his words catching you off guard.

“Hey beautiful, change your mind about keeping me in here?” He chuckled as he made his way to the door. “How about you let me out of here so we can go back to your place and I can make it up to you?” He purred, leaning close to Patch with a cocky grin plastered across his face.

Patch rolled her eyes and laughed, “You’re ridiculous.” She fished out the cell key from her pocket. “Actually, someone was nice enough to bail you out and is willing to take you far away from me.”

As soon as the key touched the lock, you spoke up. Stepping from the shadows with your arms crossed and an un-amused look on your face.

”On second thought, he can stay in there.” You glared in Diego’s direction and spun on your heel walking away.

Patch shrugged, watching you walk away as Diego begged for you to come back, claiming he didn’t mean it.

Years had gone by since that night, you hadn’t seen or talked to Diego since then, despite his desperate attempts. You were sitting in a local coffee shop when the news broke across the television; Reginald Hargreeves had passed away.

‘Fucking finally,’ you thought to yourself as you took the last sip of coffee.

Showing up at the mansion the next day proved to be more of a emotional challenge than you anticipated. Pogo greeted you at the door as usual and you made your way into the living room to await the arrival of the others. Shortly after you arrived, Klaus waltzed through the door making a grand entrance that caused you to laugh out loud at his ridiculous antics.

“Ah, Y/N! My dear, I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Klaus said, his Irish accent thick with a slight slur, making it obvious that he was using again.

“Klaus, I’ve missed you too.” Smiling sweetly you made your way to him, his arms engulfed you in a warm hug.

His arms around you, you could suddenly feel how badly he was hurting inside. You knew Klaus struggled with his childhood and his special power but you were so wrapped up in your life that you had forgotten just how bad it was. Slowly you started to take his pain away. It was one of the powers that only Klaus knew about. You did your best to hide it from everyone else, especially Reginald, in fear of him abusing it. Klaus whimpered slightly, burying his face in your shoulder and whispering “Thank you.” in your ear.

You hadn’t noticed Diego come in, nor did you see the way his eyes lit up with fire seeing your embrace with Klaus. You did however, hear the clearing of his throat and the annoyed tone in his voice.

“Still making your way through the Hargreeves boys I see,” he spat at you.

“Excuse you?” you pulled away from Klaus offended and ready to fight. “How dare you even talk to me after what you did.”

“Luther’s upstairs if you want to go get a piece of that,” Diego snarked back at you, twirling a knife between his fingers.

You stared at him in disbelief, quickly recovering from the low blow you prepared to launch an assault on him.

“You son of a b-” You clinched your fist making an abrupt move towards him only to be interrupted.

“Now, now children. It is not the time nor the place to relive your past transgressions.” Pogo appeared in the doorway.

You let out a loud huff and glared at Diego, pushing your way past him to the stairway. You grabbed the bag you had left by the door and took the steps two at a time trying to get away from him and the sounds of him arguing with Klaus. Your room was exactly how you left it, tossing your bag on the bed you flopped down in the chair directly in front of the vanity.

A soft knock on your bedroom door caught your attention and you glanced up to see Allison entering the room.

“Hey, I heard what happened downstairs. Are you okay?” she asked with a gentle tone.

Allison had become a good friend to you after what happened with Diego and you were grateful to have someone to help you through it all.

“Oh uh, yeah I guess. It’s a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Seeing him, I mean.” You sighed looking down.

“I know sweetie, I can imagine it’s hard. But you’re a strong, independent woman, who don’t need no man.” Allison quoting Beyoncé caught you by surprise, causing you to laugh.

“Really, Allison?” You laughed again rolling your eyes. “The problem isn’t that I need him, it’s that I still want him. After all this time, I can’t get the jackass out of my head. It should be illegal to look that good, dammit!” you whined as you paced anxiously around the room.

“I don’t know what to do Al, I’m still hopelessly in love with Diego. It’s been 10 years for crying out loud. Do you know how ridiculous that makes me feel?” sighing you flopped dramatically on your bed.

“Maybe you guys should actually sit down and talk, you know, like real adults.” She sat next to you. “Maybe getting his side of the story will help you decide how you really feel, Y/N.”

“You’re probably right, but any time we get near each other we fight like cats and dogs.” You huffed.

“Y/N, you’re smart. Don’t let what he says get to you. Anyways, I’m going to go unpack and call Claire, I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” She gave your knee a quick pat before walking from the room.

You stood from your bed moving to shut the door when a familiar hand flew out of nowhere stopping it.

“Jesus Christ, was that really necessary?” You screeched and jumped back, trying to stop the impending heart attack.

“Did you mean it?” Diego said, stepping into your room shutting the door behind him.

“Mean what? Were you listening to my private conversation?” you quipped back, mortified and wondering how much he actually heard.

“Do you still love me?” he asked lowly.

For the first time since your break up, he looked you in the eyes. Your breath caught in your throat and suddenly the room felt like it was on fire. You didn’t trust your voice so you gave a small nod.

“I didn’t cheat on you, ya know. That thing with Patch was a joke. I promise, Y/N. Some sleezy guy that she had booked that day was saying that stuff when she threw him in the cell. I wasn’t being serious, I promise I’d never do anything like that to you. You never let me explain that though.” He took a deep breath, taking another step closer to you.

You were now pinned between Diego and the wall with nowhere else to run. The realization hit you, you had overreacted.

“I...I had no idea. I’m so sorry Diego, I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m so sorry that I never let you explain. I’m just so sorry.” you spoke quietly between sobs.

Emotion washed over you and you finally allowed yourself to cry. He wrapped his arms around you and for the first time in years, you felt like you were home. When you were able to calm yourself down enough you wiped your eyes and looked up at Diego.

“I’d like to give us a try again, if that’s okay. We’ve already missed 10 years of being together, I don’t want to miss anymore,” he spoke softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

“I’d like that.” you said with a smile before pulling him back in for another kiss.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves fanfiction #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #tua #ellie writes

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codynaomiswireart · 6 years ago

Text

Ruddiger Goes Missing

As this fic turned out to be rather flangst (fluff + angst), I decided to make it my contribution to both the angst and fluff weeks in the TTS/RTA fandom. Also includes an illustration at the end. Hope y’all enjoy it!

Quick Note: This scenario is meant to take place after the events of TTS/RTA, and in the royal alchemist AU.

Varian was getting worried.

Ruddiger had been gone for several days now, and Varian had no idea where he was.

Of course, it was not at all unusal for the little guy to go off and do his own thing from time to time. While he was basically Varian’s pet, Ruddiger was also a free creature, and Varian allowed him to come and go as he pleased. But even then, Ruddiger didn’t usually stray too far for too long (especially after all that happened on that terrible day several years ago…). Thus such a long absence now was very disconcerting to the alchemist.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Varian tried to reassure himself as the sun set for a third time since he’d last seen his fluffy, masked friend, and Varian tried to distract his worried mind by mixing one last elixir for the day. “He’s fine…He has to be.”

It had been two weeks.

“How’s this look?” Varian asked hurriedly to Cass as he held up the latest sketch he’d done for the “missing” posters that they were to be put up around town and in the neighboring villages. Cass gently took the sketch from Varian, giving it a look over as she brought a throughtful finger up to her chin. “Looks great Varian. Very accurate. But…you don’t actually have 100 crowns to give as a reward, do you?”

“Wait, what!?” Varian exclaimed, swiping back the poster from Cass, and then quickly reworking the number. “Wow, thanks for catching that Cass,” he said as Cass responded with a quick, “Yeah, well, we don’t want the awkwardness of anyone bringing Ruddiger back and finding out that you can’t actually-”

“Here we go! That’s more like it!” Varian quickly interrupted as he shoved the sketch back into Cass’s hands. “Now, if you could run this over to the printer’s and get about, oh, five hundred copies or so, that would be a big help!”

“Five hundred!?” Cass exclaimed. “Wait! Are you crazy? How am I supposed to carry five hundred-?”

“Thanks Cass, you’re the best!” Varian shouted over his shoulder as he dashed out the door, slinging a pack over his shoulder and grabbing a map and book of zoology off the shelf as he made to scour the woods yet again for any signs of his missing friend.

Cass shook her head as she watched him leave, and gave a deep sigh of irritation (though also with a good hint of pity in it too) as she looked at the crinkled poster sketch in her hands. The reward number had been changed to 1,000 crowns.

It had been three weeks.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Varian growled to himself through gritted teeth as he knocked on the heavy oak door. After hearing a gruff, “Come in or stay out, I don’t care,” from the other side, Varian pushed his way into the lodge, and immediately cringed as about five big hounds came bounding up to him, all barking loudly and trying to sniff at his pants and jump up to lick his face as he shut the door behind him.

“Oi!” the big man sitting at the wood table by the fireplace called out to his dogs. “Pipe down you miserable mutts! And get back over here!”

Despite the man’s harsh tone, Varian could tell by the condition that the dogs were in, and by the way that they happily responded to their master’s voice, that the man loved them very much and took very good care of them. After the dogs’ barkings, jumpings, and scamperings had settled down, the man finally said, “Well, what do you want stranger?”

Swallowing hard, Varian made his way forward towards one of the empty seats by the fireplace. As he went, Varian couldn’t help but scan the environment around him with his eyes. Though the lodge was quite clean – and even had a hint of pine in the air – the alchemist didn’t feel entirely comfortable there, what with all the bear and goatskin rugs strewn about the floor, and the blank animals eyes that stared back out at him from the various taxiderm heads that were mounted to the walls. Varian shuddered hard when he caught sight of a coonskin cap that was hung up on a coatrack made from deer antlers…but he forced himself to continue on, and began to present his proposition to the old hunter as he took his seat by the fireside.

“I-I want you to track an animal for me,” Varian said, trying his hardest to sound very assured and grown up. The man responded with a lazy swig from his flask before asking his own questions.

“And what sort of animal are we talkin’ about here son?” the old hunter asked. “If it’s any of them white stags, chimeras, or unicorns from your picture books,” here the man gave a dismissive huff of disbelief. “I’d suggest you look elsewhere.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Varian retorted, earning a raised eyebrow from the hunter. “I’m serious. I need you to track a raccoon for me.”

“Hmm,” the hunter hummed to himself as he took another swig. “A raccoon, eh? Certainly doable. And what would someone such as yourself want a raccoon skin for?”

“N-NO, not the skin!” Varian nearly shouted. “Absolutely not! In fact, you’re not to hurt him at all, do you understand? I just need you to find him, and then bring him back to me – alive – if he’ll go with you. Otherwise, just let me know where you find him, and I’ll go get him. Either way, you’ll get paid.”

The man’s eyes narrowed inquisitively. “So, it’s a lost pet you’re asking me to find.”

“His name is Ruddiger,” Varian carried on insistently, ignoring the man’s eyeroll as Varian placed one of the “missing” posters on the table and slid it the man’s way. “He looks like this. He’s about yeh big.” Here Varian gentured with his hands to give an approximation of Ruddiger’s last known size. “And he loves apples. Oh, and he responds well to human speech, so as long as you don’t scare him, he may be willing to show himself to you if you call him. Especially if you let him know I asked you to find him. And he’s-”

“Look, kid,” the man now said as he set down his flask and prinched the bridge of his nose between his eyes in clear irritation. “I’m sorry, but I’m not about to go traipsing around the woods wavin’ apples about and calling out to a raccoon like I would one of my own dogs.”

“I’m not asking you to traipse around!” Varian snapped. “I’m asking you to track him. I thought you were supposed to be good at that sort of thing, or was that all just talk?”

“Watch your mouth youngster!” the man growled back, though Varian only replied with crossing his arms and giving a small smirk in challenge. This hadn’t been the first time Varian’d faced a grumpy adult within the last few years, and such a mild snapping didn’t shake him. Not anymore. “I’ll have you know I’m the best trapper and hunter this side of Vardaros!”

“Then this job should hardly be a problem for you, right?” Varian asked.

“Oh, I can track a raccoon all right,” the man continued. “Nothing hard about that. But to track a specific one? You do realize they all look the same.”

“No they don’t,” Varian replied, and would’ve gone on about how distinct and special Ruddiger was, but obviously the man didn’t want to hear any of it.

“And anyway, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a livin’ to make. I can’t go wasting my time lookin’ for lost animals that I may not even find when there are animals that I can hunt that I know I can find.”

“I can pay you even if you don’t find him,” Varian said, taking a pouch of money from his pack and placing it down on the table, making sure the coins clinked together loudly as he did so. “Here, look. Consider this my downpayment. You’ll get even more if you do find him, but even if you don’t, this should still be enough to equal an actual hunting job, right?”

Now the hunter raised his eyebrows a little, and with a quick glance at Varian he took the pouch from him, and peeked inside. His eyebrows went a little higher.

“…You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” the man finally asked, casting a quick upwards look at Varian. Varian nodded earnestly in reply. Tentatively, the hunter removed one of the coins from the pouch, looked it over, and after giving it a quick bite between his teeth to check its authenticity, he then placed it back in with the others and set the pouch beside him on the table.

“For this pay, I can go looking for him for two days.”

Varian let out his breath at this; just now realizing he had been holding it. “Thank you,” Varian managed to say evenly. “But remember, absolutely no hurting or killing him! Or you will be sorry!”

“Contrary to popular depiction kid,” the man now said tersely, “hunters are not all brutal animal killers. While I may have crafted my skills for hunting, I also craft my mind and soul to see the world through the eyes whose fire I put out when I take their life. When I hunt, I remember every single one of them that I take in season, and make sure to take no more than I know Mother Nature can restore. So don’t go talking to me like I’m some sort of trigger-happy monster that needs talking down. The job was to track the animal, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Varian fell silent and blinked a few times at this, and felt perhaps a little ashamed. He certainly didn’t expect that kind of response from the old man.

“Oh, uh, well,” Varian now stammered as he made to rise and leave the lodge, suddenly feeling like it was all becoming a bit too cramped for him. “Th-thank you for, er, for your help. I won’t keep you any longer. Just…let me know if you find anything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” the man muttered over his shoulder, again resuming his former demeanor as he held up the “missing” poster to the firelight, reading over it carefully as downed a few more sips from his flask, and Varian shuffled his way out of the cabin quickly and hurried on back to the castle.

Five weeks.

It had been five weeks since Varian had last seen Ruddiger, and while the huntsman – whom Varian later learned to be named Eli – had tracked down several raccoons in the area over the two day period they had agreed upon the other week, none of them turned out to be Ruddiger upon further investigation.

“Right sorry I’m sure,” Eli had said as he had given his report to Varian. “Though…I’ll keep my eyes peeled anyway, whenever I’m out in the woods. Just in case.”

Varian thanked Eli again for his efforts and vigilence, and though it was a bit reassuring to know he had another set of keen eyes keeping a lookout for Ruddiger, Varian also couldn’t shake the feeling of despair now beginning to take hold of his heart.

It had been a long time now. Perhaps far too long…and Varian didn’t know what to do now.

“Hey Varian,” Rapunzel’s voice called softly to him as she gently opened the door to his lab, her eyes having to squint hard to find him in the dim light of the room as Varian sat alone in the dark by the window. “We’re all having hot chocolate and bimberry butternuts in the parlor upstairs. Do you want some?”

“No…no thank you,” Varian replied as he continued to stare out the window. Rapunzel knew at once what must’ve been bothering him. It was the one thing had been bothering him for well over the last month now.

“Hey, Varian,” Rapunzel repeated again from earlier as she came up to him, her bare feet padding softly on the stone floor, and she placed a sympethtic hand on his shoulder as she stood by his side. “I…I’m sorry Ruddiger hasn’t been found yet. I know what it’s like to worry about your best friend like that, and…and I would never wish that on anyone. It really is awful.”

There was a moment’s silence as Varian reached up to place a gloved hand over Rapunzel’s, pressing her hand further into his shoulder as if seeking reassurance. Rapunzel squeezed a bit tighter in return. “We’re all here for you though,” she continued. “And we will keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find him sometime soon. I pro-”

Rapunzel quickly cut herself off as she was about to say the last word that she knew Varian needed to hear right now. No. Rapunzel couldn’t promise that they would find Ruddiger. And she couldn’t promise everything would turn out all right. Rapunzel had learned those several years ago that it was better to acknowledge a bad situation for what it was, than to try to fill the void with flowery words only meant to glaze over things or to make empty promises.

“We’ll keep looking,” she ended up repeating again feebly, not sure of what else to say. Varian remained silent, though the way he kept his hand on Rapunzel’s was enough to let her know that his feelings were of gratitude, if only a sad, hurt kind. Finally, Rapunzel gave Varian’s shoulder one last squeeze before moving to pull away. “Well, we’ll be upstairs if you need us,” she said, and made to turn and head back out the door. But as her hand clasped the door handle, she heard Varian call to her softly from behind.

“Princess,” he said…and Rapunzel turned, only to see the young alchemist begin to quiver with soft, hiccupping sobs as he managed to say, “P-please…don’t go! N-not yet!”

“Oh Varian,” Rapunzel whispered as she rushed back over to him, and wrapped Varian into a tight hug as he cried into her shoulder. Rapunzel rubbed comforting circles into his back and stroked his hair with motherly tenderness as he wept.

“I-I don’t know what to do!” Varian said between sobs. “I…I can’t lose him Rapunzel! I can’t! He-he was always there for me! And now, w-what if we don’t find him? What if-what if he never comes back? What if…? What if he’s…? I-I just can’t Rapunzel! I caa-a-a-an’t!”

“I know Varian,” Rapunzel said as some of her own tears fell with his. “I know…”

Exhausted from his cry, Varian now made his way back to his bedchambers, with Rapunzel walking along closely at his side. After bidding each other good night, and Rapunzel checking one more time with Varian that he would be ok for the evening, the young alchemist went into his room, shut the door softly behind him, and then collapsed into a heap on his bed. Varian felt too tired and miserable to try to change into his nightclothes, so instead he just lay there as he waited for sleep to overtake him. He hoped it would come soon.

As Varian lay there in a light doze, he suddenly thought he heard a muffled chittering noise on the edge of his hearing, and if he didn’t know any better, he thought he felt something tickling at his forehead. Varian hoped it wasn’t a moth or some other nocturnal insect come to bother him in his sleep. With an irritated groan, Varian made to bat away at whatever it was that was so insistently brushing against his forehead, and also tried to find a way to rest his head so he didn’t hear those infernal squeaking and cooing noises. (“Maybe it’s mice,” Varian dreaded to think. “I hope I don’t have to set up any more goo traps around the castle in the morning.”) But Varian again felt something touch his forehead…though this time it was a bit wet and rough, and stroked across his forehead over and over again in quick succession.

“Ugh! What in the world-?” Varian mumbled grumpily as he again swatted the thing away…only to freeze stock-still and snap his eyes open as he felt his hand come up against a soft but sturdy resistance. It took Varian a few seconds to register what was sitting before him as his eyes adjusted and cleared, but then when he did realize-

“RUDDIGER!” Varian shouted with joy as his face lit up with recognition, and he all but tackled the little creature as he scooped Ruddiger up into his arms with a cry of delight and held him to his chest, feeling Ruddiger nuzzle into him affectionately in return as Varian couldn’t help but plant a few kisses of his own on his friend’s furry forehead.

“Oh my God, Ruddiger!” Varian exclaimed to him between sniffles as he wiped away at his misty eyes. “Where-where have you been!? You had me worried sick! Wha…Why did you leave for so long without telling me!? I mean, yeah, you can’t exactly tell me, you can’t talk! But some sort of signal or something would’ve been nice! Or-or maybe if you’d just popped your head in? Let me know you were ok? Oh, Ruddiger, I thought I’d lost you! Don’t you ever do that to me again, ok!? Don’t you- Oh! But wait, you’re not hurt are you!?” Varian suddenly yelped, holding Ruddiger out at arms-length as he looked him over. “You’re not sick or anything? No one’s hurt you?”

Ruddiger shook his head in reply.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Varian sighed with relief as he brought Ruddiger in close again, stroking his hand down his back and scratchin his ears. “Oh Ruddiger, you had me so scared. I…I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t-”

Suddenly, Varian stopped as he again noticed the faint chittering noise from before, and he looked this way and that about him, trying to pinpoint where exactly the sound was coming from in the dark. “Hey, what is that-?” Varian began to ask, but found that his question was interrupted by Ruddiger giving Varian a few taps on the arm, and then gently wriggling his way out of Varian’s grip and hopping down to the floor before disappearing underneath Varian’s bed.

“Hey, where’re you going Bud?” Varian asked after Ruddiger as he too dropped to the floor and made to peek under the bedskirts, now realizing that the sound was coming from where Ruddiger had disappeared underneath them. At first, Varian couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black darkness, but presently he lit the lamp on his nightstand, and then shuffled out from the drawer one of the vials of glowing algae that he kept at the ready in case of emergencies.

“Ok boy, what’re you-?”

Varian drew in a small gasp and brought his free hand up to his mouth at what he saw huddled underneath his bed. There he saw Ruddiger…along with an adult lady raccoon, and five raccoon kits all clustered together; their bright eyes reflecting green in the light of the algae vial Varian held in front of him.

Varian was dumbstruck as it all began to sink in. “O my gosh, Ruddiger you-!” Varian said with a huff of surprise. “Ha ha! Ruddiger you-you’re a daddy!?”

Varian thought he’d never seen Ruddiger look more proud as he nodded to Varian, and Varian now realized that this was why Ruddiger had been away for the last few weeks. And it was only now that his kits had been old enough to make the trek back to the castle from where they must’ve been born in their raccoon nest or burrow! Varian let out a few more gleeful giggles as he looked over the happy family with wide, wondering eyes. After a few moments, the lady raccoon – Ruddiger’s mate – now made to shyly make her way out to him. Varian scooted himself back a little as she came forward, and he could hear the high yelps of protest from the little ones as their mother shuffled her way past them to meet the friend Ruddiger had brought her to meet.

“Hey there girl,” Varian cooed to her gently as he held a hand out to her to sniff. “So you’re the reason why Ruddiger left like that. Oh! Wait! No no, I didn’t mean it like that!” Varian scrambled to explain as he saw Ruddiger’s mate also understood his speech, and apparently took it as him blaming her for his friend’s absence as she drooped her ears and shrunk back a pace or two. “No, it’s ok girl. It’s ok. I was just worried about him that’s all. It’s ok. Don’t be scared. That’s right now…”

After another moment of giving Varian’s hand a good sniff-over, the lady raccoon now made to gently brush herself up against the palm of his hand, and Varian gently stroked across the top of her head in return. “There’s a good girl! Very nice to meet you! Hmm…But I really can’t keep on calling you ‘girl’ can I? No. We must think of a name for you! Hmm, how about-?”

But Varian was again interrupted as Ruddiger came waddling back out from underneat the bed, and Varian saw he carried one of his kits in his mouth as he did so. Then, to Varian’s utter joy and astonishment, Ruddiger brought the kit forward and set it down tenderly in Varian’s lap. Varian’s mouth worked to try to come up with any sort of response to Ruddiger’s profound gesture, but he found he couldn’t speak as the tiny Ruddiger-like face looked back up into his own, and all Varian could do was helplessly melt into those two pools of cuteness that stared back up at him; both a little bit frightened but also extremely curious. They were very intelligent, thoughtful eyes, and Varian’s own never left them as he carefully brought a hand over and stroked his fingers gently across the baby raccoon’s fluffy pelt.

Soon enough, Ruddiger came back with a second kit, and a third, until finally Varian had five happy baby raccoons all nestled in a furry bundle in his lap. Varian stroked, held, and talked in baby talk to each one of them, as Ruddiger’s mate moved to settle herself down with them, and Ruddiger looked on proudly from Varian’s shoulders.

All of a sudden, the whole happy company fell silent and looked up as they heard a knocking on Varian’s door, and it creaked slowly open as the door came unlatched and a tentative voice whispered in.

“Um…Varian?” It was Rapunzel. “Are-are you asleep?”

“No,” Varian squeaked back, earning a puzzled pause from Rapunzel before she took the cue to open the door further.

“Sorry to bother you, but um, Pete said he thought he heard you cry out as he passed by a few minutes ago, and we-”

Rapunzel – followed in by Eugene, Lance, and Cassandra – stopped dead in her tracks, and the rest of her company did likewise, and their eyes all widening to the size of dinner plates as they now saw Varian sitting crosslegged on the floor, the biggest smile on his face that they’d ever seen on him, and his lap covered with the fluffy shapes that were raccoon babies, and the proud parents also peering from their respective places on his lap and on his shoulders.

“Holy whaa-?” Eugene breathed from where he stared at Rapunzel’s shoulder.

“Aww!” Lance now gushed after getting over the initial surprise. “Look at all those cute little furry babies!”

“Varian?” Cass now finally piped up. “What is-?”

“Ruddiger’s a dad!” Varian exclaimed happily as he sat stroking one of the said babies as he held it to his chest. “Can you believe it!?”

“Yeah, real cute,” Eugene said, still looking a shellshocked. “Um…it just pooped on you.”

“I know~,” Varian said, nuzzling the baby raccoon with his cheek. Varian was on cloud nine right now, and it would take more than a few baby raccoon droppings to bring him back down again.

“Eeeeee! I’m sorry everyone, but I gotta get a closer look at these little guys!” Lance said as he went to sit beside Varian. “Oh, if they aren’t just the cutest things I’ve ever seen~!?”

Soon enough, everyone was seated around Varian and gushing over the latest additions to the castle household, and Varian could hardly have been happier – or more honored – to be sharing this special moment with his best friend as he nuzzled Ruddiger at his shoulder, and Ruddiger stroked a familiar and tender paw across Varian’s cheek in return.

Author’s Note: A special shoutout to @coronagoddess (who had the idea on the Discord of Ruddiger putting his kits into Varian’s lap), and to @glowamber (who had the idea of Varian finding Ruddiger under the bed with all his babies)!

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Text

Blood and Kisses

((Just a jomike flangst (kinda fluff kinda angst) one shot. Mostly angst tho. Nobody asked for this but y’all can’t stop me.))

Tw: Internalized homophobia, blood, and the word ‘queer’ but not used as a slur.

...

Jojo moved as fast as he could through the streets, ignoring the various aches in his body.

He had to find Mike.

After getting soaked by the bulls, there had been a lot of confusion. The only really clear thought any of them had was that they had to get away, had to get to the Lodging House. They had first aid supplies there, and though some dislocated limbs had to be treated in the alleyway most of them rendezvoused in, the pain of moving was largely set aside in favor of getting somewhere safe.

Race and Davey were splitting the duties of leader between them, with Race making sure everyone’s injuries got tended to and Davey checking to see who they were missing besides Crutchie, who they knew had been arrested, and Jack, who’s absence everyone had noticed immediately.

Davey’s headcount came up a few short. They were missing Elmer and Mike, among others.

So, Davey had picked a few of the least-injured guys to help him look for their lost friends.

Jojo wasn’t one of the least-injured guys. He had enough bruised ribs that it hurt to breathe and his knees were scraped up from getting shoved on the ground.

But he had to go, anyway. He had to know if Mike was alright, no matter what Davey and Race said.

It had never fully registered in Jojo’s mind until now that he cared about Mike more than any of the other guys, but he did. The twin was probably his best friend, not that he’d ever had a best friend before him to know how that felt.

Mike made him bolder. The old Jojo never would have snuck out of the Lodging House, even to go find someone who might be hurting somewhere. But whenever he started to lose his nerve, he kept thinking of Mike’s laugh when he told a joke, Mike’s patience when he didn’t get a social cue, Mike’s friendliness when they first met, which had never gone away.

He had to find Mike.

This was significantly harder than normal, trying to lay low with cops everywhere and move quickly and check every alley and behind every dumpster.

Not many people were close with the twins. Davey had become fast friends with them by a) being a twin with his sister, Sarah, and b) being able to tell them apart right off the bat. But he hadn’t known any of the Newsies very long and with Ike too hurt to look, Jojo was probably the only one who might know where an injured, disoriented Mike would run off to.

“Mike?” he called as he finally thought to check behind Jacobi’s.

A soft groan was the only response he got, but it was enough.

Jojo rounded the dumpster and found a barely conscious boy, banged up halfway to hell on the ground.

But alive. He was alive. That was enough.

“Mike!”

Jojo managed to drag him up to a seated position, but Mike really wasn’t responding. Blood ran down the side of his face from a gash on his temple. He was clearly super out of it.

“Mike, can you look at me? What hurts?”

“Besides everythin’?” Mike mumbled. He laughed weakly, his eyes half closed as they met Jojo’s.

“We need to get you back to the Lodging House,” Jojo muttered, “Race’ll be able to help, and Buttons, if he ain’t too busy. Maybe Davey, when he gets back. Oh, yeah, we couldn’t find Elmer. And Finch is missing, too, but you’re okay, so I’m sure they are—“

“Jojo...”

The soft tone in his voice made Jojo stop, freezing as one of Mike’s hands touched his cheek. Jojo grabbed his other hand and squeezed.

“I’m here.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re gonna be fine,” Jojo said, stretching his sleeve over his fingers to try to wipe some of the blood off his friend’s face.

The wound was smaller than he was expecting, but he guessed head wounds always bled more than they were worth.

Still... this one looked deep.

“In case I ain’t...” Mike whispered, “And even if it ain’t today, even if it ain’t during the strike... I just... I need ya to know...”

“Know what?” Jojo asked. He was tempted to tell him to save his strength, to tell him later, but blood kept trickling down the side of his face no matter how much he tried to wipe it away.

“I can’t... I ain’t much good with words. And I can’t really think at all right now, so...”

He was trying to lean forward, and Jojo leaned a little closer, too, anticipating a secret whispered in his ear.

Instead, Mike’s hand on his cheek guided him into an exhausted kind of kiss.

Jojo froze. Inside, he remembered everything the nuns had ever told him about this kind of thing and this was wrong wrong wrong—

Mike looked a little sad when he pulled back and saw Jojo’s wide eyes, the way he hadn’t moved at all, the shock that had to be written all over his face. The look in his eyes said that he’d half expected this reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before his eyes fell closed, his chin falling against his chest.

“Mike?”

Despite having no idea what to do, no idea what to think, because Jojo’s best friend was a queer, his best friend was queer for him, his best friend just kissed him and it was Jojo’s first kiss and this was supposed to be wrong—

Despite all of that, Jojo was still overcome with relief when he checked and found that Mike’s pulse was still strong.

“Jojo? What the hell are ya doin’ outside the—oh my God, Mike?”

“He’s alive,” Jojo told Tommy Boy numbly, “Just unconscious.”

“Okay, good. C’mon, we gotta get him back to the Lodging House. It’s dark enough that we can carry him and nobody’ll be around to question.”

Tommy picked Mike up over his shoulders as Jojo got to his feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “Ya look like you’s seen a ghost, Jojo.”

Jojo just shrugged. He didn’t want to lie, because he was not okay, but he didn’t feel like talking to anyone about what just happened.

He kind of wondered if Ike knew. No one else did, surely, because if they did, Mike would be out on the streets, but as his twin, he of all people would, right?

He wasn’t going to tell anyone, but Jojo didn’t know how he could stay in Manhattan after this.

Because as wrong as kissing his very male best friend was supposed to feel, there was a part of Jojo that had thought it felt right.

...

Though avoiding problems was not usually a good way to deal with them, Jojo spent the next couple weeks, even after the strike ended, avoiding this one.

He couldn’t face Mike. Not with what had happened. Because even if it had just been because of the injury, the way he’d been talking had made it sound like he’d really, genuinely wanted to do that.

He’d genuinely wanted to kiss Jojo, which...

Which was impossible to reconcile.

Because Mike was good. He was a good person who cracked jokes when everyone needed to hear them most and was stubborn enough to stick with a stike that could have and very nearly did end in his death.

How could someone that good be a sinner?

He almost thought said apparently-a-sinner was right in front of him until he spent more than ten seconds looking the guy in the eyes.

“Ike.”

“What happened?”

“What?”

“I’m a dumbass, Jojo. I ain’t stupid. My brother’s avoidin’ you and you’s avoidin’ him and it bothers both of you.”

Jojo sighed. He should have guessed Ike of all people would know.

“So, are ya tellin’ me what happened?”

Jojo’s gut twisted in guilt at the memory he couldn’t shake.

Warm, gentle lips against his own, the taste of Mike’s blood where it had ran down his face and caught on the corner of his mouth.

Complete and total shock, kind of a complete mental shutdown.

A part of him buried deep, deep down that was feeling and enjoying and wanting that kiss.

God help him, Jojo had dreamed of it more than once in the last couple weeks, except in the dreams, his inhibitions were gone, and...

He told himself that they were just dreams. He couldn’t control them, and it was only natural they’d elaborate on confusing circumstances.

God, this was so confusing. It was Mike, who was good and kind and funny and it didn’t make sense for him to be a sinner. It didn’t make sense for a part of Jojo to enjoy his best friend’s kiss. None of this made sense.

Ike probably deserved to know. At least... part of it. Why Jojo and Mike weren’t talking.

“You remember when I found Mike behind Jacobi’s?”

“‘Course. Why?”

Jojo took a deep breath, “He was probably just delirious and not thinking straight, but... he... he kind of kissed me.”

The end of that statement came out as a whisper. Jojo hadn’t intended that, but he didn’t necessarily want anyone to know, so...

“Oh. Okay. That explains a lot.”

...what?

Jojo had expected him to jump to his twin’s defense with some kind of explanation or threat to keep Jojo from telling anyone else, but... what Ike said next definitely wasn’t that.

“I’m guessin’ by the look on your face, you didn’t enjoy it?”

“...sorry?”

“I mean, I’ve been told Mike’s a good kisser, but I never believed it,” Ike said nonchalantly, “I guess I should cut him some slack for bein’ half-unconscious, but...”

Jojo couldn’t even begin to process what was happening right now.

“Wait...” Ike’s smile faded, “Oh, shit. I don’t remember hearin’ of ya bein’ with anyone since ya moved into the Lodging House, so... was your first kiss was a terrible one behind a dumpster with my stupid brother? I’m so sorry!”

“Ike,” Jojo tried to summon his thoughts, “Ike, well... yes, that was my first kiss, but you’re... it’s not... Mike is a boy!”

Ike rolled his eyes, “Obviously. What did ya think he— oh. I guess ya... didn’t know. ‘Bout him bein’ queer.”

So Ike did know. That was the only thing here that was expected.

Jojo sighed, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“Boys likin’ other boys is wrong, and Mike is a good person. I don’t understand.”

“Who told ya boys likin’ other boys is wrong?”

Ike looked confused, and maybe a little offended, too when Jojo looked at him.

“The nuns.”

Ike rolled his eyes, “Didn’t they also tell ya that girls aren’t supposed to dress like boys? Ya know—like Sniper and Smalls do?”

“Sniper and Smalls dress like that ‘cause it’s easier and more comfortable for ‘em.”

“Exactly. Not everythin’ the nuns say is right.”

“But—“ Jojo tried to protest, but Ike was already cutting him off.

“Jojo, you’s a smart boy. Do ya think anyone chooses who they love? Ya think fallin’ in love is a choice?”

“Of course not, but—“

“Jojo, if a boy falls for another boy, it ain’t his choice any more than if he fell for a girl. Same goes if a girl falls for another girl. You have no control over who you love. So how can it be wrong?”

Jojo was at a loss for words.

That actually made sense. The twins were usually jokesters, but Ike definitely wasn’t joking, now, and the point he was making was a valid one.

How could love be wrong when you didn’t control it?

Ike laughed, “Honestly, I’m shocked ya ain’t noticed anythin’ queer ‘round here until Mike kissed you. Damn near the entire group is.”

“Wait, what?”

“Damn, Jojo. Did ya think we all joked ‘bout Blink and Mush sneakin’ out together ‘cause they was friends?”

Jojo honestly hadn’t thought about it, like, at all. But now that he was thinking about it... God, most of his friends were paired up and had been since before he even came along. And if he took off the glasses of assumption... maybe they’d been flirting in front of him this whole time and he’d taken it as just playful banter.

And all of them were good people. They were all too good for their love to be anything less than natural and beautiful.

And if none of this was wrong, maybe Jojo could let himself think about certain things. Namely, his best friend kissing him and him enjoying it.

Ike grinned, “I think you and my brother need to have a talk.”

Jojo nodded, still halfway numb with shock.

Really, right now, his only real thought was that he needed to talk to Mike.

...

When he finally managed to get him alone the next day, Mike looked like he expected Jojo to punch him.

Jojo, of course, wasn’t going to. He could still see the wound that had almost killed the other boy, though it was healing well and mostly covered by his hair.

He was waiting for Jojo to make the first move, only Jojo didn’t know what to say.

He probably should have figured that out beforehand, but it was too late, now.

“I...” Jojo took a deep breath, “I think we needs to talk. About what happened behind that dumpster.”

Mike nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

Jojo had a lot of questions, but only one that felt relevant right now.

“Why’d ya do it?”

Mike looked over his shoulder, down the hallway towards the room where most of their friends were hanging out. By the sounds of it, Race was in the middle of beating everyone at poker, so they probably wouldn’t be walked in on, here. Jojo guessed that was a good thing.

He shrugged when he looked back on him, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Jojo.”

Jojo nodded, “Good.”

Mike looked a little surprised at that, but he took a deep breath.

“I kissed ya because I wanted to. I have, for a really long time. I thought you were cute the first day ya came here, and I that was before I even got to know ya. And behind that dumpster, I was really scared and I felt like I might never get another chance, so... well, and I was hurt. I woulda asked if I was in my right mind, but... are you gonna out me?”

Jojo was struck speechless by the amount of fear in his voice. Mike seemed to take his silence as a ‘yes.’

“I guess I don’t blame ya. Kissin’ someone without permission ain’t right, ‘specially when kissin’ that person could get both of ya arrested. I don’t particularly wanna go to jail, though, so’s I guess I’ll just grab what I can and run away some—“

“No,” Jojo interrupted.

Mike looked up from the floor.

“No,” Jojo repeated, “I don’t want ya to run away. I ain’t gonna out ya.”

It was Mike’s turn to be speechless.

“Mike, I...” Jojo took a deep breath, “I was raised to think a lot of things are wrong. And bein’ here with our friends, with you, I’ve unlearned most of it, at least enough that I’m workin’ on it. You and the others have given me a family, helped me so much, so... so when Ike tells me that most of the fellas is queer, it wouldn’t make sense for their love—somethin’ they don’t control, anyway—to be wrong. It makes them happy. They makes each other happy.”

Mike looked uncharacteristically uncertain, “What’re ya sayin’, Jojo?”

“I don’t mind,” Jojo clarified, “That you’re queer. I know you’re still you, and you’re my best friend. After all, even if I didn’t know, you’s been this way since we met, right?”

“Right,” Mike confirmed, finally starting to smile, “Nothin’s changed.”

Jojo hesitated, “I... wouldn’t say that.”

Mike’s smile dropped. He didn’t look as scared as before, but a bit of the fear was coming back.

“Ya wouldn’t?”

Jojo took a deep breath. No turning back now.

“You said you’s wanted to kiss me since we met.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but...”

Mike’s voice faltered as Jojo dared to step a bit closer. For some reason, it made Jojo smile, butterflies erupting in his stomach.

“That’s the smile,” Mike whispered.

Jojo tilted his head, confused, “What smile?”

“The smile that makes everyone else want to smile, too,” Mike responded, “It’s amazin’. You gots one of those smiles that lights up the whole world.”

That rendered Jojo completely unable to say anything for a few seconds, and he figured his face must be pretty good for Mike to laugh like that.

“You’re so cute.”

“You’re cute, too.”

Mike froze, and Jojo tried to swallow his nerves.

“I didn’t know before,” he mumbled, “But then you kissed me, and I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it and I... I’m queer, too. For you, specifically.”

There was a beat of silence where neither of them moved, and then Mike smiled.

“Well, then, since I didn’t ask last time...”

Mike touched Jojo’s waist with one hand, light enough to give him goosebumps.

“Can I kiss you, Jojo de la Guerra?”

Jojo took a deep, shaky breath. He was still scared, the way he still was whenever he did anything the nuns back in Harlem would have disapproved of, but he knew what he wanted.

“Yes.”

Mike brought his free hand up to the side of Jojo’s face, pulling him in for a slow, gentle kiss.

God, if Jojo had enjoyed their first kiss, this was something he never could have imagined. He didn’t really know how, but he tried to kiss back, anyway, trying to ignore the little bit of awkwardness creeping into this.

“Good?” Mike asked quietly, pulling a couple inches away.

“Amazing,” Jojo answered, a little breathlessly.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He actually really wanted to kiss Mike again, but he didn’t really know how. He didn’t know if he should ask first or just lean in and go for it. He didn’t even know where he was supposed to put his hands to try to make sure he didn’t miss, so he was just kind of fidgeting with the sides of his pants.

“You can touch me, ya know,” Mike said, noticing.

“I’m sorry,” Jojo mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

“Oh, I know. That don’t matter to me. I’ll help ya figure it out. For now, how ‘bout this?”

Mike grabbed Jojo’s hands and put them on his shoulders. He put both of his hands on Jojo’s waist.

Jojo nodded, “This works. Can I..?”

“Of course.”

He had to say... kissing Mike got better every time he did it, and as... minutes, hours, who knew and who cared passed, Jojo liked to think he got a little better at it.

They jerked apart a little as they heard a whoop from the room where everyone else was.

“I guess Race is winnin’,” Jojo said awkwardly.

“He is.”

Jojo buried his face in Mike’s shoulder as they realized that Ike was standing only a few feet away, just leaning against the wall and grinning.

“Davey asked me to go find ya both,” he explained, “I swear, he’s becomin’ more like a worried mother hen every day. He actually said he expected you’d be together, but I’m sure this ain’t what he was thinkin’ of.”

Mike laughed, “Probably not. I mean, it’s been weeks and he still don’t get it when the rest of us tease you and Race for sneakin’ off to Brooklyn.”

“How long were ya standin’ there?” Jojo asked.

Ike shrugged, “Long enough. Don’t worry, I’m happy for ya. I gotta say: it’s about damn time.”

“I assume ya ain’t givin’ him a shovel talk,” Mike said, wrapping an arm around Jojo’s shoulders as he talked.

“Are you kiddin’ me? That’d be like givin’ a shovel talk to Elmer. There are just some people ya can’t try to scare. It’s a moral thing. Jojo, you ain’t gonna hurt Mike, right?”

“No?”

“Good. See? I believe him, so that’s good enough. How’s about we go join the game, now? There ain’t enough cards for everyone, but we can play as a team.”

Mike made eye contact with Jojo, “Ya don’t mind if I put this on hold to play some poker, right?”

Jojo shook his head, “Of course not. Race is gonna kick both your asses, but if ya don’t mind that, that’s your business.”

“I don’t mind. Let’s go!”

Of course, he didn’t know why anyone even tried to beat Race at poker, but Jojo was happy to just sit by his... were they sweethearts, or what, now? and ignore the smirks a few of his friends gave him, having read the signals of Ike looking smug, Mike looking happy, and Jojo blushing.

Jojo definitely would be thinking a lot about this later, but for the most part, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

#newsies #jomike #jojo x mike #jojo de la guerra #mike newsies #angst #ike newsies #violet’s writing

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ohprettyweeper-moved · 6 years ago

Text

Make It Better

Summary: Tyler loses control, so you and Josh do your best to help him. Pairing: Tyler x Reader Word Count: 825 Warnings: Drinking, OOC behavior, implications of depression and anxiety, angst/flangst. Vomiting. A/N: Prompt is bolded in the text. Sorry this is late in the day; I’m in the middle of prepping for finals next week, but still trying to keep up a fic a day! This isn’t really a request from @razor-tothe-rosary, but I had a list of prompts I couldn’t decide on, and she picked for me!

Wanna request a fic?

It was after three in the morning when your phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound of it woke you from your usual light sleep; with a groan, you reached to answer it.

“Better have a good reason for calling, Josh Dun.”

A whoosh of air gave away the sigh on the other end, and Josh apologized for waking you up. “Hey. It’s Tyler again. Can we come there?”

You rubbed your eyes with your free hand, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll unlock the front door.”

“Thanks.”

You closed your eyes for just a second, holding on to the last bit of sleep before you switched on the lamp next to your bed. You found a hair tie and piled your hair back away from your face, not really caring how it looked. You were already in a tank and sweats, but you threw a hoodie on, just for good measure.

Coffee was going, you had clean towels and a couple of warm washcloths in the bathroom, along with a glass of room temperature water. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time in the last few weeks that Josh had called in the wee hours and asked to bring Tyler to your place. He couldn’t very well take him home, anyway.

“Why are you covered in neon body paint?” you asked, opening the front door so Josh could help Tyler inside the house.

Josh shot you a look. “Best not ask.”

With a nod, you followed him into the bathroom where Tyler collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet. Josh ran a hand through his hair; you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Go try to rest,” you encouraged. “I’ve got this.”

Josh didn’t argue. “You’ll wake me if you need anything?”

“Of course.” Before he was too far gone, you asked, “What brought it on tonight?”

“I don’t even know anymore, Y/N. He’s just … I don’t know.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Josh made to leave, but turned again at the door, picking at a place where the wood had splintered on the doorframe. “You know, I know when he’s had enough. He always tells me he needs to see you. That he’s ready to come here. I think you’re a safe place for him.”

At the stool, Tyler began retching into the bowl. You put out of your mind what Josh had said for the time being, and laid one of the washcloths over the back of Tyler’s neck. When there was a pause, you made him drink some water. He sipped at the contents of the glass, then leaned back against the tub.

“I’m sorry I keep doing this to you,” he said, his voice scratchy from the burn of the liquor coming back up on him.

You took a seat against the wall, not far from him. “I don’t care that you’re doing it to me, Ty. But, I wish I knew why you’re doing this to yourself.”

His head leaned back against the ceramic ledge of the tub. “You ever felt like the world’s just going to swallow you up, Y/N/N? The world and the things it wants from you and the things you feel and the demons you can’t chase away. Felt like I needed to float away.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” you answered quietly, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the lump in your throat would turn to tears. “But you can’t float away from all of that in a sea of alcohol. You just … tell me what to do to make this better for you.”

Tyler’s head lifted from the edge of the tub, and his tired, bloodshot eyes looked at you. He stared at you for a moment, licked his lips, and set his elbows on his knees.

“You do make this better for me.” He rubbed a hand over his face and reached for the glass of water, chugging it down.

“Not so fast. You’ll make yourself sick again.”

Tyler shook his head. “No. I think I’m done being sick for tonight. I’m tired.”

“Okay,” you said, standing to dust off the seat of your pants. “C’mon. Bed.”

He took your hand, holding tight to it even after he was standing and steady. Though you had done it before, using the other washcloth to wipe his face down before letting him sleep seemed a much more intimate thing tonight.

He kicked his shoes off, and you rid yourself of your hoodie. Tyler crawled under the covers, curled around a pillow, and reached out for you. You sat on the edge of the mattress, trying to decide how things had changed so quickly — and maybe they wouldn’t even be the same in the morning.

Despite all of that, you scooted back on the mattress, molded yourself into the little spoon with Tyler’s arm draped comfortably over your hip, and fell into a comfortable, deep sleep.

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years ago

Text

Accidental Feelings and Such

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam x Jessica (mentioned), Sam x Eileen (mentioned the thought of)

Word Count: 2,565

Warnings: this is flangst, Dean fluff, Sam awkwardness, the summary pretty much tells you what’s going to be in it or not. The fight is nothing major.

Request by @carribear31: Hey Hun, so you know I LOVE your writing, and I've been thinking about a story but I can't write to save a life over here. Something Dean x Reader, were Sam thinks he has feeling for his brothers girl and its driving him crazy cause their best friends. Sam and reader have a fight and he, totally on accident hits the reader, like he turns and didn't realize she was that close, and Dean sees and all sorts of angst, but happy ending please!!! And tag me!!! :)

Author’s Note: I got the idea for the last scene from Friends. If you’ve ever seen the show, it’s the episode where Joey thinks he’s in love with Monica but isn’t. He’s actually in love with having someone to love. Yeah, that’s what happened here.

If you want to be a Queen or a Dean Bean, let me know and I’ll add you to the lists! So sorry this is out so late, but I hope you like it!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Morning Sam.” You said when you trudged into the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, coffee in his hand and reading a newspaper. He must have already gotten on his run because his hair was wet from the shower he took and he was dressed in his usual attire.

His head snapped up and he blushed upon seeing you. You were only wearing on of Dean’s shirts and panties that barely peeked through. Sam was your best friend in the whole world and he’s seen more of you while patching you up. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

“Uh, shouldn’t you be wearing more?” Sam said, obviously flustered. You frowned and looked at Sam, seeing his cheeks tinted pink. You looked down at your clothes and shrugged, looking back at Sam.

“No, this is what I usually wear. Don’t be a baby, you’ve seen me in less.” You said, watching his movements. He nodded stiffy and when you sat down with your bowl of cereal, he bolted right up and left his coffee and paper on the table as he walked backwards to the door in a hurry to get away from you.

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked, suddenly concerned for him. Sam’s eyes flitted to your thighs where the end of Dean’s shirt had exposed more skin. He looked back to your eyes and he chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, I’m f-fine. I gotta go.” He said, turning around and almost knocking Dean on his as from how fast he was moving.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Dean said, looking at his brother.

“Funny, Dean. I gotta go.” Sam said quickly and rushed out of the kitchen and probably to his room. You stared at the spot where Sam just was and didn’t know what just happened. It was way too early to figure it out anyways. You would have to grill him about it later.

Dean walked over to you and you smiled, tilting your head back to look into his eyes.

“Morning.” He drawled.

“Good morning to you. I hope you slept okay.” You said, glancing up at his lips. He was upside down to you but that didn’t stop him from leaning down and kissing you. This reminded you of the famous Spider-Man kiss but it was hard to focus on that when his lips moved in sync with yours.

“Dean, I’m trying to eat.” You said after you pulled away. You smiled at him and he winked, leaving to go get his coffee and to get started on his breakfast. You stated to eat your bowl of cereal, going in for seconds when you were done.

“Hey, what was up with Sam?” Dean asked when he put the bacon on the heated pan.

“I have no clue. I just came in here and he seemed fine until he looked at me. Said I should wear more clothes. It’s weird, he’s seen me in less.” You said, shaking your head.

“Well, I, for one, think you look delicious in my clothes.” Dean said with a smirk. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was staring at you.

“Keep it in your pants, Winchester.” You said with a small smile.

“You weren’t saying that last night.”

“We had a bit too much to drink last night.” You argued.

“Didn’t make it less passionate.” Dean said, turning to his food on the stove. You spend the rest of the early morning in the kitchen, making small talk with him to pass the time. You didn’t have a case going on so you thought the day should be spent inside, just relaxing with Sam and Dean.

Speaking of Sam, after you showered and gotten dressed, you wanted to know what was up with him earlier. You knew where he might have been. Since his bedroom door was open, you knew he wasn’t in there. So, there was only one more place he would have been unless he wasn’t in the Bunker.

You were right. When you entered the library, he was sitting at one of the tables, reading one of the lore books. It was just like him to always soak up information even when there wasn’t a case. You quietly walked to him, careful not to make a sound until you were right behind him.

You bent to his level and made sure your mouth was next to his ear when you spoke.

“Watcha reading?” You asked, making Sam jump out of his seat. You chuckled and took the seat next to him but Sam shot out of his before your ass could touch the wood.

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked, frowning.

“You caught me at a bad time. I gotta go.” He said, swiftly turning around and leaving you alone in the library. You grew a little angry. Was it something you did? You had no idea what bug crawled up Sam’s ass and nested in there for him to be acting this way to you.

You grabbed Sam’s book and slammed it shut, getting up and placing it back where it belonged. You marched where you knew Sam would be, knocking on his door to confront him.

“Sam, open up.” You demanded of him.

“Uh, I can’t. I’m busy. Why don’t you come back later?” Sam said. He was trying to get rid of you.

“Sam, just open the fucking door. What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, trying to open his door yourself but the bastard locked it.

“Just, leave me alone.” Sam said. You scoffed and pounded on his door once, before leaving to go find Dean. You found him in the kitchen, eating whatever was left of the pie you made a few days ago.

“Dean, what the hell is up with Sam?” You asked, a little bit angry.

“What is going on? What do you mean?” Dean asked, finishing the bite he took.

“When I walked into the library earlier, he took one look at me and bolted. Did I do something wrong? Why doesn’t he want to be around me?”

“You’re probably over thinking it. Maybe he’s dealing with something that he hasn’t told us about. Just give him his space and he’ll talk when he’s ready. I would know, I raised him.” Dean said, passing this off as Sam being weird.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You said with a sigh, sitting next to him. You stole his fork and took a quick bite of the pie.

“Woman, who do you think you are?” Dean said, shocked that you would do this to him.

“The woman you love.” You said with a giggle, handing him back his fork.

“We’ll see. I don’t know, you might have crossed the line with this one.” Dean said in a playful manor, taking his fork back.

“Oh, quit whining you big baby.” You giggled, knowing he was only joking.

The next day, since Sam wasn’t speaking to either you or Dean, you didn’t know if he found a case or not. You tried to talk to him earlier, but he left the room without saying a word to you. Once, when you were eating lunch in the kitchen, he walked in, saw you, and then left. You were getting pissed now. If Sam had a problem with you, then he should just tell you instead of making you feel like you’re worthless.

You got up, leaving your lunch where it was and following him where you blocked his path to the hallways. Dean was out doing a little bit of food shopping, so, you had to do this now.

“Samuel Winchester, you tell me what is wrong right now.” You said with a bit of venom in your tone.

“Look, I don’t think this is the best time.” Sam tried to say but you had enough of his shit.

“No, Sam, you’ve been avoiding me like I’m the plague or something. Did I do something to you? Are you mad at me?” You asked, needing some answers.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” Sam said, backing up from you. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Then what is it? You leave a room when you see me. How do you think this makes me feel? Sam, you’re my best friend. Talk to me.” You tried again.

“Look, I can’t have your help on this one. You wouldn’t understand.” Sam said, turning around and walking to the tables to get further from you. But, no, he wasn’t going anywhere until you knew what was going on.

“Sam, seriously, what is going on with you? Just tell me, I can handle it!” You raised your voice a little.

“No, Y/N, just drop it.” Sam said, a bit agitated. He still hasn’t looked at you and that was making you even more angry.

“Sam! Stop being a fucking pussy and tell me!!” You full on yelled at him. You walked closer to him, practically feeling the heat radiate off his body from how angry he was. He seemed to have snapped because he turned around to confront you, his arms swinging out to make some sort of gesture.

Well, it was the fact that you were too close to him, or his arms were just too damn long. But, when he swung his body around, his turned too swiftly, backhanding you across the face. You gasped, the slap the loudest thing in the room.

“Oh, God, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Sam tried to apologize. You held your burning cheek, getting tears from the sting.

“Hey! What the hell was that?” Dean said, storming over to his brother. Dean has just come in at the right time, seeing his brother slap you across the face.

“No, Dean, I didn’t mean to.” Sam tried saying but it was no use. Dean was already to him, punching his brother in the face. Sam tried to scramble away from his brother but Dean punched him a second time before you jumped in.

“Dean! Stop! It was an accident!” You said, ignoring the stinging sensation on your cheek. You had some trouble pulling Dean away but when Dean looked over at you, he knew you would have a bruise there for the next week or so.

He glared at his brother who looked very guilty for hitting you.

“Come on, Y/N, let me look at that. Sam, don’t think I’m done with you.” Dean said, giving his brother the evil eyes.

“Dean, it wasn’t his fault. I was standing too close.” You tried saying as Dean whisked you away to the kitchen where there was a medical kit. You had one placed in the rooms you were always in. just in case something happened and you would need a kit. They wouldn’t be too far away.

“Dean, it wasn’t his fault.” You tried again, sighing when Dean checked your bruise that was already starting to form.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Dean muttered, getting out an ice pack for you to place on your face.

“Dean, please, I was standing too close.” You tried to ease his nerves but it wasn’t happening.

“Stay here.” Dean said before leaving you in the kitchen, all by yourself. You sighed and heard them arguing in the other room. You were going to go listen in, when you heard their footsteps descend and you knew they were farther away from you now.

You put away the first aid kit and wondered what could be the reason Sam is so upset.

It was hours later and Dean was done talking with Sam. You were in yours and Dean’s room, feeling your skin tighten from where Sam’s skin made contact with yours. Dean refused to tell you what they talked about and you didn’t pressure him or anything. You just wanted to sleep it off and hope that tomorrow would erase today’s events.

You heard a knock on your door and you knew Dean wouldn’t knock for his own room. You knew who it was.

“Come in, Sam.” You said, sitting at the edge of the bed. Sam opened the door and when he saw your face, guilt was more evident than the other emotions he was experiencing.

“Sam, it’s okay, it was an accident. I was standing too close to you.” You said with a sigh.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh, then why are you here?”

“To tell you I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and you didn’t deserve me icing you out like that.” Sam said, walking further into the rom. You could see him more clearly and saw a bruise forming under his eye were Dean punched him.

“Then why did you, Sam? You made me feel worthless, like I wasn’t important to you anymore.”

“Look, I’ve been dealing with something and I’m not sure what it means. Dean told me to talk to you about it but I don’t know if I can.”

“Sam, come on, it’s me. Of course, you can talk to me. What is it?”

“I had a dream the other night of you but you weren’t Dean’s girlfriend. You were mine and I loved you. I think I may have feelings for you.” Sam said, not meeting your eyes.

“Sam, look at me,” You said in a soft voice. When he did, he had unshed tears in his eyes. “Sam, you’re not in love with me.”

“How do you know? I can’t stop thinking about you and Dean. When you came into the kitchen wearing his shirt and nothing else, I knew I had to get away. I don’t want to ruin what you and Dean have. I’m sorry.” Sam said. You pulled him to the bed and sat him next to you.

“Sam, you’re not in love with me and I’ll tell you why. We just came back from a hunt that involved love, romance, and couples. I believe that you see what Dean and I have together and maybe, that's what you want? You had it with Jessica and I’m pretty sure you would have had it with Eileen if she were here today. You want someone to care for and love. I’m around here all the time and your mind replaced a woman you can have that with, for me. I don’t think you’re in love with me. I think you’re in love with the idea of having someone to hold and to love.”

“You know, now that you mention it, I did repel at the sight of you before the case.” Sam said, obviously joking.

“Hey, I’m right here,” You said, shoving his shoulder.

“I am sorry about that bruise though.” Sam said, looking at you.

“It wasn’t your fault. So, are we good?” You asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Sam said, his dimples peeking out from his smile.

“Good,” You said, leaning in and kissing his cheek. Sam got up and patted your leg before leaving Dean’s room. You loved Sam so much, but only as a friend. Sam passed Dean on the way to his room.

“Hey, you talked with her?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Sam said with a nod.

“Great. Night.” Dean said, going back to his room. Sam sighed, thinking of you the whole time to his room. When he closed his door, he shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m in love with her.”

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967 @essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest @stay-in--place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx @mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn @emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie @kristendansmith @milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl @codyshany316 @pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam @pouterpufftrain @ruprecht0420 @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012 @aubreystilinski

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