#mo- *gunshots*

[transbrucewayne]

I’m actually going to cry

[biropen]

Tiddies

[shioricain]

One thing about me is that I do not tolerate Wen Ning erasure in the slightest. Like I would throw hands for him (and have).

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

i know i now live in one of the states with the most state pride but this seems. well it just seems

[eightspringdays]

Back into my "what if near had the photo of mello because he was the one who took it in the first place" bullshit hc

[cryptcreep]

finding a character playlist and it’s all taylor swift songs feels like opening a starburst and it’s all orange

[redflagshipwriter]

Ghost Driver 2

masterpost

Batman, Danny reflected, was an irritatingly hard guy to find. Which was just plain silly! The dude had been in his apartment. He had seen the guy out in public by chance! It had been impossible for him to avoid Batman in a city of millions when that had been his number two goal! 

And yet every time Danny made it to a house fire or gunshot sound or the signal on top of the police station, the fucker was already gone. 

‘Can’t say shit about his work ethic,’ Danny had to admit. ‘He really keeps it moving. Why isn’t he having a break? He arrested Joker today and apparently met up with his estranged kid.’

He stopped in his tracks as that finally clicked into place. 

Jay was Batman’s kid. His estranged batling. 

“Weird,” Danny said, appreciative. Jay truly was a catch. He had a backstory! It was probably tragic, judging by the way that he was. 

Oh. He could probably like, fight and stuff. Danny mulled that over as he half heartedly drove towards the police station. Had Danny ever really dated someone who could fight? It would be nice to not be the protector. When one of them inevitably got kidnapped by a villain, Danny wanted to be it. He didn’t want to solve riddles or discover new powers. 

He indulged in a power fantasy for a while of being able to say, “oh no, save me!” and then just hanging around looking sexy and scared and shit. A goofy grin stole across his face. Teehee. He giggled. If he wasn’t trying to confirm proof of life he would be kicking his feet and blushing over the idea. 

Not that death would be, like, that much of a barrier. Jay was not going to peacefully move on to the other side. Jay was gonna be an undead motherfucker, Danny was calling it now. He had the spirit. 

He parked in a locked parking garage by going intangible through the wall and went fully ghost to fly the last stretch towards the police station. It was a little bit ridiculous to stake out for Batman, but this was the low he was resorting to. Ugh. Strategy. He had a strategy. Despicable. He had to, right? He had to.

‘If I do this, then he’s probably going to report the sighting to the GIW. I might have to transfer.’

Danny wallowed a bit in self pity about having a problem he couldn’t argue or punch his way out of. He stuck his hands in his armpits and sulked, hovering in the air above the main police station. Someone was hanging out on the roof. He squinted at them optimistically, but they were just smoking. He morosely did a few flips. The smoker went back inside, shutting the door with a sort of deliberate silence that implied they were not allowed to smoke on the roof.

Long minutes stretched out. Absolutely nothing happened.

While he was wallowing alone, he remembered to send his mom a thank you text and let her know Wulf had arrived safely. 

A car! Someone was pulling up to the police station!

Danny perked up before he remembered that Batman would not be coming to the station by car, and almost certainly not in a mauve minivan. 

The sun started to rise and Danny had to admit that it was not going to work out. He let out a little screech of frustration, hands in his hair. How was someone supposed to get a hold of Batman? He didn’t have a publicly listed phone number, Facecard, or… did he have a twooter account? Danny went to check.

He did. Batman had a verified twooter account. Danny stared at his screen for a minute, mouth slightly ajar. 

“I wasted so much time,” he realized. Then he switched to the account that Tucker had made for Phantom, took a selfie of himself floating over the police station, and tagged Batman in it. He pursed his lips and considered what to say for a minute. 

“I just wanna talk. HMU dude.” 

That was perfect. He hit send twoot. 

His mentions exploded before he could get his phone into his pocket. Danny startled so badly that he dropped it onto the police station rooftop. He shrieked and dive bombed like a seagull, desperately trying to snatch his phone out of midair. 

He saved it at the last moment, pulling up sharply to avoid dipping inside the police station. That would be awkward. Danny huffed a sigh of relief and glanced at the current landing notification.

‘This guy for real??’

Yeah, obviously, Danny responded. He looked at the next twoot that caught his eye.

‘Lmao this fucker thinks he can get an appointment with the batMAN’

Danny rolled his eyes and responded,

Get good, loser. He wants to see me. 

That did set off a flurry of speculation that he was fucking the Batman. Hmm. Danny frowned at his phone. Maybe he should talk less. 

Instead of doing that, Danny hunched over and started committing twooter violence, responding to people on indignant impulse. 

Someone cleared their throat. 

“A minute,” Danny said distractedly. He was holding his phone nearly up to his face and typing furiously about how @acovadobinch147 could get on his level if they only changed everything about their sour ass attitude. 

“Is this really the time?” A man’s voice asked.

Danny startled, elbows flying up. He kept his grip on his phone this time. He looked down. 

There was a cop on the roof. A cop with a seriously unimpressed expression, under eye bags big enough to have to check at luggage, and a death grip on a paper cup of coffee. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said reflexively. He hid his hands behind his back. No. That’s suspicious. He took them out and put them in his pockets. Nailed it. 

“Ahuh.” The man took a sip of what looked like black coffee. “You might be loitering, son.” 

“The property line doesn’t include airspace,” he said promptly. 

The cop’s mouth twitched up slightly. It was hard to see under his mustache. “Might be. Aside from that, would you happen to know anything about the disappearance of the Joker from his cell?”

Danny blinked at him. “You know about that already?” He wondered. He shoved his hands further in his pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, he was really creepy and shit. I sent him to the Infinite Realms.” At the blank stare that garnered, he added, “the ghost zone? The lands of the dead. The unending stretch-“ 

“I got it, son.” The cop looked shell shocked. He stood perfectly still for a moment. Then he drained his entire coffee cup, crushed the paper cup and stuffed it in his pocket, and started digging in his vest pocket. “Don’t tell,” he said vaguely, and extracted a cigarette. 

Danny drifted a little further away. “Keep that downwind,” he warned. “My dad would lose his mind if I came home smelling like tobacco.” The odds of Jack Fenton showing up unexpectedly for bonding time were low, but they were never zero.

The cop snorted. “Sure thing.” He shuffled to the side a few steps and lit up. “So, uh, you want to meet the Batman to tell him you… to tell him what you did to the joker? He won’t thank you for it,” he warned. 

“No.” Danny blew a raspberry. “I don’t care about his opinion. I wanna know where my boyfriend is. Almost boyfriend. Well, we really just met, but I wanna see where it’s going, you know?” 

“…and you think that Batman knows?” 

Danny nodded furiously. “He was the last one who saw him, aside from Joker, and the unfunny dude didn’t know jack shit,” he complained. He bobbed in the air as he crossed his arms. “He was such a weirdo creep! He was making, like, innuendo about spanking? And I’m pretty sure he claimed he predated on Jay? And that’s obviously not cool and shit, so I couldn’t leave him there to be a bother,” Danny explained. He shrugged. “He’s kind of my jurisdiction anyway,” Danny justified. “Joker has major death experiences vibes.” He wiggled his fingers to illustrate this. “Was he ever declared dead? He acted like he was.” 

“Jurisdiction,” the cop repeated. “Son, are you… do you have some kind of foreign license as law enforcement?” 

Danny thought about it. “Technically,” he admitted. Embarrassing. “…two roles, technically.” Ew. He shuddered. “Walker gave me the rodeo yeehaw cop gold star thing after the last big prison break so I could help, and also teeeechnically I’m meant to enforce infinite realms laws.” He grimaced. “Because.” He ground a foot into the air as if it was the dirt. “Ugh, this is embarrassing.” 

“I don’t need to know the details,” the cop said. That was so unhinged Danny stopped to stare at him. “The Joker was taken into custody by another law enforcement agency, details are classified. Does the Joker still exist?” He was holding his temple.

“Yeahhhhh,” Danny drew out the word. He scrunched his eyebrows together. “If that’s what you want, we can just keep him, I guess. He can be a denizen of the Infinite Realms. Like me,” he added, because he didn’t want people looking for human him. This was a great alibi. The cops would tell the GIW that Phantom lived in the Infinite Realms now, and they would never catch him. He was going to live forever.

The cop took a long drag on his cigarette. “You’re deceased, correct?” 

“You’re blunt,” Danny muttered. “Yeah, uh, I’m a ghost. Wooooo.” He made scary fingers. 

“And your boyfriend?” 

“Not deceased,” Danny said slowly. Although something about what Joker had said was sticking in his mind. “At least, not as of this afternoon. He’s like, this tall. Square jaw, big hands, very white teeth, has a red helmet drag persona-“

He cut himself off as he remembered things. “He’s very unobtrusive is what I was saying,” Danny lied hastily. He gave a nervous laugh. “He, uh, rides bicycles, not motorcycles because that’s a cool guy thing, regular motor-bicycles regular bicycles and he has a red human safety hat for it. Ummmm.” He looked away shiftily and snapped his runaway mouth shut. “Yeah.” He looked back and frowned in concern. The cop looked awful. “Hey, are you okay? Do you have a headache?” 

“Nope.”  The cop didn’t stop massaging at his head. “Name?” 

“Jay,” Danny said. He wasn’t gonna give him a full name.

The cop sighed. He sounded like he was in serious pain. “Your name.” 

Oh, okay. “Phantom.” He did a midair flip.

The cop nodded heavily. “Thank you. Is there anyone I can verify your credentials as Infinite Realms law enforcement with?” 

Danny groaned and buried his face in his hands. Like who, his Dad? Some wizard? Ember? “Do you really have to?” He asked pitifully. “They’re all so embarrassing.”  The cop raised an eyebrow. Danny folded. “Literally anyone who can contact the Infinite Realms,” he muttered sulkily. “I’m kind of a big deal there. I, like, arrested the last king. There’s, uh, a few human magicians you could confirm with. Some ecto biologists in Illinois that you can look up. Any ghost you know, really.” 

So mortifying. He was cop adjacent. He felt queasy.

The cop closed his eyes. “Does that put you in the government in any way?” 

“…You’re smart,” Danny said, surprised at that deductive leap. “Yeah, I’m like, the next king or whatever. When I’m old and dead enough.”

“Fantastic. I’ll leave you my number and I’d like a way to contact you. I want paperwork on the Joker’s new placement tomorrow, I can’t be party to kidnapping.” 

…What was happening?

“Okay,” Danny said in a very high pitch. He, uh, was probably going to have to rescue him from Skulker and actually put him in Walker’s prison. He should have listened to Mom. He fidgeted. “Is there anything else?” He laced his fingers behind his back, feeling a little bit like he was in trouble at school.

“Yeah.” The cop dropped his cigarette and ground it out underneath his boot. “The Red Hood was wounded tonight, but survived. He left of his own accord, alone. I expect he’ll be passed out in some safe house.” 

“…so I should just like, wait?” Danny frowned. “I don’t like it.” 

‘I do have a clue. Jason Wayne. That’s enough to track him down, right? He’s gotta have a dead grandma or someone haunting him. I find his home, I find a family ghost, and they tell me where he is. Boom.’

“You’ll like it less if the Batman shows up to have a chat,” the cop said frankly. “This was a professional courtesy.” He frowned sternly. Danny veered back at the very scary face. “Do I make myself clear, son?” 

“Crystal.”  Danny shot off a salute. “I’ll, uh, go now.” 

“You had better.” The cop’s tone sounded awfully final.

Jeeze. Danny went invisible and left at high speed. He could take a hint. 

[mewtoz]

mommy— i mean… mo— *gunshot*

[soapybutt17]

The Next of Kin

Summary: Simon needed to update his contact information, as dodgy as he was for giving everyone even a glimpse of his private life, he did so. Who would have ever thought that it would become handy after an injury left him high on painkillers and needy for his girls back home. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Reader. OC Daughter (Cassandra "Cassie" Riley). John Price. Word Count: 1,615 Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Injuries. Drug Consumption. Slight Angst. Mostly fluff.

Masterlist || Request are Open

It was the annual checkup in the base, something that Simon had dreaded the most knowing what it entails. Not only was his current and past injuries being monitored but he was all too certain about the wacky doctor would also make an appearance to check on his mental state. It wasn’t a fun time as any of his other team mates point it out to be.

“Should we update your emergency contact, Lieutenant Riley?” The nurse had inquired dealing with his medical records.

A part of him wanted to say no, but remembering what was waiting for him home, he could not allow himself to break his wife’s heart as well as his own daughter if the time ever comes that he dies in the middle of battle. He would want to ensure if ever that was to happen, you would know and hope that you would move on.

“Yes,” He agreed accepting the clipboard and pen handed to him.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he wrote your name and your number under his emergency contacts.

His handwriting was decent and readable at best, chicken scratch at worst as Johnny had eloquently pointed out during reports. But there was this special care with the way he wrote your first name and his last name that you were more than happy to take as soon as you married all those years ago. Your number was ingrained to his brain as he wrote it, having forced himself to memorize in the event he didn’t have his personal phone with him and simply a burner phone for missions.

What truly took him a second to write was the blank space dedicated to his relationship with you. No one knew he was in a relationship, nor did anyone know about his marriage. It took him a full two minutes before he found himself slowly opening the flood gates of his personal life that he had tried his best to hide from the world.

“Never knew you were married, Lieutenant.”

“Never planned on letting anyone know about it.” He spoke honestly, the cold demeanor and tone enough to stop the conversation from going further about his personal life.

Little did Simon know that the upcoming mission would lead to him having to make use of the emergency contact.

~

When you had begun your relationship with one Simon Riley, you had always accepted that he would always be gone for uncertain amounts of months in a year, you had accepted that part of him. How mission would always mean the world was a little safer from the dangers of man. You accepted all the big and small flaws that came with Simon and even in your eventual marriage and the birth of your daughter, you had come to accept the danger that would come in missions that would place him badly bruised or beaten beyond repair. You would always be there to tend to each and every single wounds and be the shoulder for him to cry on when he was good and ready.

But nothing could have ever prepared you for another unknown call coming from your phone. You’ve always expected it to be your husband, checking up on you before the mission begins like he always does. But the voice of an unknown man was the last thing you would have expected.

He called himself John Price and you know the man from your husband’s few conversations when he talks about the people he works with. You had feared for the worst as soon as he had explained that your husband has just gotten out of surgery after a mission. A few broken bones and a superficial gunshot wound. But it was enough to worry you as Simon himself has been asking for you as soon as he was out of surgery and in lucid consciousness.

On most days you were calm and collected, but it was the panic of seeing the worse of your husband that had you carrying your two year old and a baby bag towards your car with a mission. The Captain had asked if you could possibly have someone come get him but you know no one else better to check up on him but yourself and your daughter that was all the more excited about being in the car.

The travel was rather long and rather tedious knowing you and your husband had agreed to live away from the city and away from any dangers that may come to you and the baby while he was gone. You had appreciated the distance, the peaceful tranquility that came with being away from the bustle and noise of the city but not this time. It had meant a longer journey and a more hectic one since the base was all the way across the other side.

Once you had arrived to the base, all eyes were on you. Many eyes had lingered on you when they heard your last name. You know for a fact that your husband’s name and reputation beholds him, but you never knew nor did you ever try to question to what extent. It unnerved you more was how avoidant everyone had been of you aside from one of the soldiers tasked with bringing you and your daughter to your husband.

Outside the infirmary room was a rugged man. The man exudes an air or control and intensity and rugged strength, but not as much as your husband did. His posture was upright, suggesting discipline and years of military training. Dressed in an all too familiar tactical gear, he gives off a no-nonsense vibe that immediately commands attention.

“Ma’am, my name is John Price.” The man introduced the moment he caught sight of you.

You spoke your name and your daughter that was surprisingly all too mum in the whole situation, you were surprised that she wasn’t crying at being in an unfamiliar environment like she usually was.

“It is best to assume that you two are Simon’s wife and daughter, I presume?” He inquired.

You took a moment to think if it was alright to agree with his statement. Knowing your husband and the array of precaution he had come to give you, you were uncertain if you could trust the man with such a fact.

“Yes.” You spoke, dealing with the consequence later as there was something more important that needed your attention. “How’s he doing?” You inquired wanting to change the subject now.

“Stable. A little loopy from the drugs, but he’ll make a fast recovery.”

You nodded, hesitation of asking if you would be allowed to see him now in his state.

“He was looking for you.” He opened the door for you and you were welcomed with your husband in bed with his mask still on.

“Dada!” Your daughter squealed upon the sight of your husband groggy still.

You watched as his head turned to look at you and your daughter.

“Love…” He grunted wincing at the pain that you were certain that was coming in full force now.

“I’m here, Baby.” You whispered approaching him, cupping his cheeks gently. “Me and Cassie are here.” You assured trying your best to hide the tears that were fighting to fall at the sight of him.

~

When Simon Riley had opened his eyes, the first thing that he had come to notice was the pain that surrounded his entire body. The next thing that he noticed was the warmth that wrapped around his calloused hand.

Turning his head he saw the most beautiful sight that he had the fortune of seeing in his life. His wife and daughter. The more pressing matter was the fact that you were asleep in an all too familiar uncomfortable plastic chair with one hand on him, and your other arm held onto your baby sleeping on your chest.

“Baby…” He grunted harsher than he intended.

Slowly blinking away, your eyes immediately turned down towards your daughter before your eyes met his own.

“How are you holding up?” You inquired immediately, trying your best not to wake your sleeping daughter still cradled snuggly on your chest.

“Like a bitch.” He muttered appreciating being able to swear with his daughter still asleep. “But I’ll live.”

“I’m glad.” You sighed, rubbing his hand tenderly. “I was so worried about you when your boss called me. I thought something worse has happened.” You whispered.

“I didn’t really want to worry you—or have you see me like this.” He muttered.

“I know.” You nodded gently letting go of his hand to cup his cheeks that still was covered with his mask. “But I’m still as glad to be here right now knowing you’re alright. Me and Cassie get to see you’re alright.”

At the mention of your daughter, Simon noticed his daughter begin to get fussy from your chest. Gently pushing himself up until he sat on his bed much to your protest, he took your now crying daughter into his arms, gently laying her onto his chest and how quick she was sated in his warmth.

“Daddy’s here, Angel. I’m here.” He began to whisper, pulling off his balaclava to kiss his daughter onto top of her head. “I’m not going soon for a while. I promise.”

He has yet to tell you about the doctor’s insistence that he takes a few months off. It would be something he would tell when you get home. Once he finishes up with the paper works, he’ll let you know of the good news. For now, all that’s important was he had you and his daughter here with him, even in his most vulnerable state.

[pampanope]

~7-11 Lore~

Name: Efren Torres Aldrich

Alias: 7-11, Cerberus, Shadow Company’s Dog (Konni)

Affiliations: Shadow Company, USMC (former)

Age: 34 yo

DoB: May 7 1990

Height: 6’1

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: filipino/white

Born in: Queens, NY

Pronouns: He/him

Gender: cis man

Orientation: panromantic homosexual

Specialty/Résumé

• Former Marines Force Reconnaissance operator

• Deep reconnaissance with qualifications in parachuting and combat diving (MOS 0326)

• Profficiency as a sniper and rifleman, at intelligence collection, mountain warfare, CQB, and small squad tactics.

• Dutiful Shadow babysitter

• Graves whisperer (usually)

Personality

• calm, quiot, generally easy going; speaks in low even tones

• observant, pays attention to the goings on of those around him, and completes tasks efficiently.

• treats fellow Shadows with warmth, courtesy, and long-suffering exasperation. Takes some time before he feels comfortable enough to freely goof off with other people.

• Has a playful side; likes to harmlessly tease other Shadows to a certain degree but is all business when working or on an op

• sees all of Shadow Company as his family; their success and well-being are his top priorities.

• this devotion towards Graves and SC has a possessive slant to it; he’s willing to destroy anyone and anything that threatens his family

Physical Description

• lean, fit overall build

• dark brown hair and dark sleepy looking eyes

• mole beside left eye

• very light stubble

• scars on left arm (IED shrapnel), wrists (rope scars), around fingers (balisong flipping) and upper left side of torso (gunshot wound)

• Usually wears neutral dark colors, mask, tactical gloves, combat boots and baseball cap

Psychology

• the loss of his parents at a young age, years of instability, and military training have led to the creation of a mental coping mechanism that can be described as “a feral hind-brain creature” that views individuals as pack, predator, prey, those who need protection and those who need to be cut down.

• 7-11 understands it’s not normal to look at the world in such a way, nor is it normal to want to sink his teeth into the throats of his enemies or into the flesh of those he cares about, in the hopes that he leaves a mark that they’ll carry even after they’ve gone.

• he keeps this part of himself carefully contained within with the majority of Shadows non the wiser,

Love Language: Touch, Gift Giving

Prefers affection via: Touch, Quality time

_____________________

Strengths

• loyal

• diligent and efficient

• puts his subordinates before himself

• smooth operator on the field

• stays calm under pressure and in the face of unusual situations

• thoughtful and empathetic

• can fall asleep anywhere

Weaknesses

• can be stubborn

• tends to forgo personal safety and care if he thinks it’s necessary

• has abandonment issues

• guilt-ridden

• may be vengeful, especially so on behalf of someone else

Hobbies

• photography

• karaoke

• balisong flipping

• sparring

**• Graves**

Likes

• cuddles and head scritches

• SC gossip

• collecting large, huggable plushies

• napping in warm cozy places

• training Shadows (usually)

• getting ragdolled and tossed around like a salad

• displays of physical strength

• training or games that allow him to hunt down others (or be hunted)

Dislikes

• incompetent and callous leadership

• humidity

• the sun (this boi burrrns)

• watermelons (tastes like sugary wet sand)

• Shadows or Graves getting hurt

• being cornered

• Shepherd

• disorganization

Fears

• Losing everyone and everything

• not being enough

• substance abuse and addiction

Preference

Fave Color: Blue

Fave Season: Autumn

Fave Music: 80’s rock and power ballads, most of 90’s and 2000s

Fave Animals: Crows and cats

Fave Food: savory snacks, burgers, lumpia, kare kare

Favorite Plants: blue orchids and monstera

Coffee or tea: coffee (once a day)

Night or Day: Night

____________________

Idiosyncrasies & Random Stuff

~ named after his mother’s favorite billiards champion (Efren “Bata” Reyes)

~ He’s always had a blushing problem; doesn’t matter what emotion it is, if it’s strong enough, he gets flushed.

~ started out wearing a mask to hide the blushing and hide his expression; it’s fun keeping fellow Shadows guessing

~ likes to make up reasons why he wears the mask all the time

~ eventually realizes that he got so used to freely making silly expressions behind a mask that he can’t school his features without it anymore

~ which is fine, it became habit anyway; he enjoys any rumors among the Shadows about him and why he stays masked when others remove theirs outside of ops.

~ there are way too many benefits to wearing a mask for him to quit

~ Biting is a very valid tactic, on and off the battlefield; as an offensive move and form of affection (but he doesn’t bite out of affection as often as he’d like because he doesn’t wanna scare the other Shadows lol)

~ kinda short circuits a bit when handled roughly

~ Tore a man’s throat out with his teeth on Grave’s behalf; Graves **really** liked that and decided to give him the callsign Cerberus and collared him (it’s a pleasant grounding presence around his neck)

~ will start growling when stress levels are maxed out or if very sleep deprived

~ keeps a cork board of photos in his quarters; photos of Shadows past and present

~is banned from the kitchen(s), no, not just SC HQ or bases.

~ grabs ahold of anyone or anything that comes into contact with him while

sleeping; he’s like a bear trp that way

~ he’s seen the effects of substance abuse and addiction first hand; it’s why he limits alcohol intake, drinks one cup of coffee a day (hence the regularly scheduled naps), and avoids gambling and smoking

~ deeply misses his parents and his childhood; often wonders if they’d even recognize him as their son

- Voice claim: Isaac Clarke (VA: Gunner Wright) (Dead Space games)

______________________

Backstory

7-11/Efren is one of Graves’ most loyal Shadows and considers himself a vanguard of the Company.

After losing his parents at 13 to a vehicular accident (for which he blames himself for) and the subsequent abuse and neglect from his uncle, Efren spent most of his teenage years feeling untethered, numb yet seething with anger and guilt.

He spent his early years working part time jobs to make ends meet while getting into fist fights with the local gangs to release the deep seated fury within.

A final altercation with his uncle drove Efren to seek structure and a place to belong in the Marine Corps.

There, Efren, while excelling at every aspect soldiering, would often be easily goaded and provoked into brawling with other recruits of his cohort.

This led to his first meeting with Graves, a cocky, silver tongued, MARSOC operator in his mid twenties.

Graves issued a challenge to Efren, which ended with Efren being so thoroughly *humbled* that it altered his brain chemistry, quieting his feral hind brain to a dull roar for the first time in what felt like forever.

Fixated on Graves after that meeting, Efren joined Force Recon with the hope of providing crucial intel to support his fellow Marines (especially Graves).

He always kept an ear out for news of KIA personnel; thankfully Graves was never one of them.

After years of serving in Force Reconnaissance, Efren was faced with making a decision whether or not to re-up to continue his service or to move on into civilian life.

As if summoned, Graves appeared after so many years, and whisked Efren away to his new Shadow Company, where he world finally find a new home.

The irony of feeling at peace in a PMC was not lost on him.

Wherever Graves went, he would be his Shadow and support. For Efren, it was the least he could do after the man gave him everything.

((May add more as i go✨))

[daryl-dixons-wife2211]

SURVIVING TOGETHER

Daryl Dixon X f!reader

Chapter 1:Invisible strings

When I moved to Georgia, I didn't expect to be living in Hell. I moved under the impression that I could reinvent myself amongst the peach trees and the southern hospitality. Instead I'm cowering in my van with my dogs, listening to the sound of the end of the world- the sound of the walking dead.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

I shouldn't have made so much noise. I thought we were safe out in the woods, but each day that goes by is a harsh reminder that nowhere is safe- nowhere. I'm out of breath from running, but my two dogs and I managed to make it to the van without being eaten alive. The only thing is, now the van is surrounded by the dead. The dogs, a five year old husky and his German shepherd little brother, are perfectly still and I try to mimic their silence. The windows are shrouded by curtains that I'm glad I hung yesterday. Maybe if we're quiet, they'll go away? I'm at least hoping that's the case. I'm still trying to learn the rules for these freaks.

Hours pass as I lie low, but the dead persist, their relentless scratching becoming almost rhythmic. Amidst the chorus of frogs and rustling leaves, their dreadful moans are all I can focus on. After a while, the scratching seems to lessen, but there's still at least 5 of them surrounding the van. I'm too tired to care anymore- I'm not going anywhere soon and neither are they, so I finally close my eyes to attempt at least a nap. The peace is fleeting, lasting all of 3 minutes before I can't take it anymore. I fling my eyes open. I guess we'll be here all night.

I sit for what feels like several more hours, thinking about what to do if these freaks aren't gone by morning. I'm about to start forming Plan F, when I feel the dogs start to perk up. I wouldn't pay much attention, if it weren't for their ears frantically swiveling like little satellites. They hear something, and it's not anything dead.

I sit up as much as I can, and try to peek through the corner of the window. About 30 feet away I see two figures hiding behind a couple trees. I watch as they stealthily bob and weave closer- one with a gun, the other with a crossbow. This could either be really bad, or my saving grace. The dogs get restless as the gun shots start to sound. They're being so good, so quiet, but I can feel the anxiety rising up in them.

More gunshots and a few arrows later, the dead are all...well...dead. I quietly grab a rifle I keep under the passenger seat, anticipating the worst. I can hear them now that the freaks aren't making noise. Those figures turn out to be two men- great. I prop the gun against my shoulder and listen as they start to argue.

"Who the hell cares? Let's move on." the shorter one with the crossbow says. "That damn van has somethin' in it. Why else would they be around it like that?" the second man bites back. I freeze. I did not like his tone- this is not going to be good. "The sons a'bitches are stupid. There's nothin' in there." the first man hurls back. I can't make out what the taller one replies, but whatever it was, it irritates his friend. The shorter one stomps over to the truck and I tense with fear and anticipation. Mumbling curses the whole way, he reaches the van and the dogs get into position, waiting for my command. The man puts his hand on the door handle and I place my finger firmly on the trigger. I take a deep breath in and the man rips the door open.

We both freeze, crossbow and rifle pointed at each other. He looks a little surprised, so I'm not sure he really expected to see anything, or anyone, in here- much less two big dogs. The dogs don't growl, which is unusual for them, but their bodies are still stiff with anticipation in case I give the signal to attack.

The man and I just look at each other. I can't read his expression, but he's not making any other move towards me, so I don't make any towards him. An unexpected stillness settles between us. The longer this goes on, the more I'm able to take him in and, quite frankly, he's gorgeous. Not like, Hemsworth brother gorgeous, but like, random stranger you cross paths with at a gas station gorgeous. Hot enough that it momentarily erases the danger I felt before. His eyes, a piercing blue, betray no malice. Men usually trigger some sort of fight or flight response from me, but not this one. I have no idea what makes me feel this way, but he seems...safe? He keeps staring deep into my eyes and I'm ensnared. Silently, he puts one finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet. His steely blue eyes look me and the dogs up and down and he slowly lowers his crossbow. The way he's looking at me is so soft, so gentle. I can't tell what he's thinking, but against my better judgment, I lower my rifle. He looks so deep into my eyes I forget where I am, until, that is, I hear his friend yell "You find anything? What's in there?". I wait for the man to sell me out, but he doesn't. "Nah. Nothin' in here. Just a few empty beer cans" he calls out in the raspiest voice I've ever heard. I swear I even see him smirk a little as he closes the door and joins his friend. I watch out the window in disbelief as he fades into the night. After they're gone, it takes me until almost daybreak to settle back down. My mind races, and I can't stop thinking about it.

I get the feeling that man saved my life.

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

A few days had passed and, thankfully, I hadn't crossed paths with the men again. That is, until the screaming started. I had been sprawled across the front seats of my van reading a book, my favorite in fact, when the shrill sound echoed amongst the trees. I drop my battered copy of Pride and Prejudice on the floorboard and jolt to a seated position. I was born with a crippling need for peace and justice, so deciding to investigate and potentially solve a problem for someone was a no-brainer. I hop out of the driver's seat and slide the van door open. Gesturing inside, I call for the dogs. Maverick and Kai both leap out of the woods, following my command. They leap in the back of the van and I slide the door shut, then climb back behind the wheel.

With all the echoing, I can't pinpoint the sound of the screams, so I just drive in the general direction. I find a dirt road that seems to be following the path nicely, so I hop onto that. I seem to be getting closer to the cries for help and soon come upon a circular clearing about an acre around. The screams all make sense now, as I gaze upon not just one person, but a whole group of people- the most I've seen since the world was engulfed into madness. Men, women, and even children are huddled back to back in a circle, surrounded by the dead freaks. They're fighting as hard as they can, but they're never going to make it. There's too many of them and they don't have very much to defend themselves with. Desperation is written all over their faces, but for me, this will be cake. I might even have time to read some more before it gets dark.

I drive further into the clearing and stop about 50 yards away. No one even notices me until I get out of the van, which, coincidentally for me right now, is actually a police van that I stole out of the Atlanta P.D. parking garage when everything went down. I've never gotten to use any of the toys inside it, so this will be fun. I slide the back door open and look my sweet boys in the eyes. "If you boys do a good job and help these people I'll give you both some peanut butter." I say, cradling their snouts in my hands. I let them jump down onto the grass and giggle as they wait, tails wagging furiously, for my command. "Alright boys- CAST".

The dogs speed off towards the group in peril as I work on turning the red and blue lights atop the van on. I grab the old iPod I scavenged and plug it up to the van's speaker system. At this point the dogs are running in circles between the scared people and the walkers that surround them. I watch as the people look stunned, but no less scared. I almost giggle to myself, as I think about how shocking the sight must be, but then I notice something. Amongst the group of people is the man with the crossbow. You've got to be kidding me- I haven't run into people in a week, how have I run into this man twice in 4 days?

I guess at this point I owe him one, so I'm filled with an even greater sense of need to help these people. I grab my iPod again and navigate to the first song I see, "American Idiot" by Green Day. I grab the hand held microphone connected to the van's megaphone and call out, "HEY FREAKS! OVER HERE!" I hit play on the song and turn the volume up to the max. It roars across the clearing, causing most of the undead to slowly turn and begin their crawl towards me. "Mav, look back. Kai, come by" I command the dogs, instructing Maverick to catch the stragglers and Kai to keep herding the main group as they limp towards me. I wait until the herd gets about halfway to the van before I turn it around and creep slowly away. The freaks have completely abandoned the frightened group and have eyes only for the flashing lights and music pouring out of the van speakers. Mission accomplished.

"Alright boys. Come here." I use the megaphone to call again. Maverick and Kai race back to the van and leap in through the side door I left open. "Good boys." I praise them. We drive off with the freaks following us, never letting them get too close. I shoot one last look at the group we just successfully saved. Their puzzled expressions amuse me, but I can't help but picture what would have happened if I wasn't there with just the right equipment at just the right time. I used to think the world was scary. Now, it's a living nightmare.

After 30ish minutes of driving the herd away, I decide to lose them and speed up, turning the lights off and the music down. I can't stop thinking about the man with the crossbow. I guess we're even now, but I don't want even. I want to figure him out- I want to be near him. Why do I feel this way? I should just be grateful I've survived another encounter with him and move on, but I have a gut feeling this won't be our last meeting. As I drive I think about his captivating eyes raking my body up and down and how I wish they'd do it again.

Looks like I was right. I do have enough time for another chapter before dark.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t sleep well last night. Yesterday’s events have been replaying in my head relentlessly. I moved to Georgia to be alone. I wanted that. After everything I had gone through, I just needed space, but now I can’t help thinking about my family back home. Can’t help but wonder if they’re even alive, or if they faced a scene similar to what nearly happened to that group yesterday. Did they have someone looking out for them, too?

I should’ve been there for them. I shouldn’t have left. I’m trying not to beat myself up about it- after all, how was I supposed to know the world was going to end? The isolation is getting to me though- I just want my family back. I dry the tears that have been slowly running down my face for the past hour and look out amongst the woods from the tree I climbed and settled in earlier. I don’t know where the dogs have wandered off to, but I hope they’ve found themselves a rabbit or something. They wouldn’t eat yesterday, no matter how many times I tried to feed them the cans of spam and vienna sausages I had. It's almost like they know I don’t have much food left. I’m not really sure what my gameplan is out here, but I do know I don’t plan on outliving these dogs for very long. With my family being on the other side of the country, these sweet dogs are all I’ve got keeping me going right now.

My pity party is interrupted when I start hearing footsteps. My eyes scan the woods below until I see a man crouched behind a rock and rub my eyes again. I have to be seeing things, because there’s no way I have run into the crossbow man for a third time. I follow his line of sight and see the object of his fascination. It’s a deer, and a beautiful one at that. I watch as he lifts the scope to his eye and takes aim. He’s never going to make that- there’s too many trees, he doesn’t have a good vantage point, and there’s a slight breeze. He settles in, waits a few seconds, and pulls the trigger. His arrow goes soaring towards the animal, but hits a tree about 3 feet from it. “Dammit.” I hear him mutter to himself.

With little to no thought, I decide to do something crazy and aim my rifle at the deer. He’s going to need this deer for his group and I’ve got a perfect view. I line the shot up, take a breath, and pull the trigger. The deer goes down from an absolutely flawless shot, if I do say so myself. I quietly celebrate my success and look down to find the crossbow’d man is not only very surprised, but he’s not alone. I should’ve thought this through a little more.

I count about four men total. “Guess you guys weren’t holding me up after all. Which one of you just shot that?” my mystery man asks. The other three just stare at him. “We were together the whole time and none of us shot anything.” one man wearing a baseball jersey says, very nervously. “Where’s my brother? Must’ve been him then.” he surmises. The man with his shirt tucked in replied in a thick drawl, “He went to piss. Left his gun with us.” They all look at each other perplexed. Wordlessly, they all take up their respective weapons and start scanning around them. Three of them keep their eyesight level, but Crossbow Man starts scanning in the trees above. He must be a hunter. I quietly sigh- I didn’t really consider what might happen after I shot the deer. I guess I’m going to have to do a big reveal before Crossbow Man sees a dark figure in the tree and shoots me down. If I’m going to get shot I’d at least like credit for the deer first.

I grab my backpack I had lodged in between branches, toss my gun on my back, and make the descent. I’m almost completely down before they even hear my movements. They all whirl around and watch me plop on the ground. Only two of them have guns, but they’re both pointed at me, so I put my hands up in surrender. Crossbow Man, however, is looking at me with a mix of wonder and amusement, crossbow dangling at his side.

“Who the hell are you?” the one with the drawl demands. “Hey! It’s Green Day!” baseball jersey laughs. “What the hell are you talking about Glenn?” the same man questions. “She’s the one who saved us yesterday! The girl with the dogs!” Glenn says, getting more excited with every word.

“Why the random acts of kindness? What do you want? Where are the dogs?” the first man rapid fires questions, gun still drawn and taking a step towards me. All valid questions, but I don’t enjoy his vibe. Something about him seems off, but I can’t quite figure out what it is.

“Nothing- I swear. Look, I just saw your friend miss the shot and I had a clear view so I thought I’d help. I know you guys have kids. It’s not a big deal, really. I’ll leave now. The deer is all yo-” I get cut off by two long, low, disembodied growls. Dang it. The boys are back.

The men all jump and look like they’re about to pee themselves. One man even drops his gun. “Eeeeeasy boys. These guys are our friends.” I say to the dogs, still hidden somewhere waiting for their cue to “handle” the situation. “You guys might want to lower your guns, they make the dogs nervous.” I warn.

“Shane, she was up in that tree and we didn’t even know. She could’ve gunned us all down and she didn’t. She saved us yesterday and she didn’t have to. She doesn’t want anything.” Glenn argues. “Just put your gun down before we get mauled.”

“I’m sorry, they’re just protective. They won’t actually hurt you without me giving the order. Boys, heel.” I call, slapping the outside of my thigh gently. Maverick and Kai reveal themselves and heel to my sides, heckles still slightly raised. “I’m leaving now. Shoot me if you must, I guess.” I say, turning around slowly. I take all of three steps before Glenn yells for me to wait. I turn back around to see him whispering something to Shane. He signals for the other two men to join and I wait while they furiously discuss something, Shane still pointing that stupid gun at my torso. It looks like whatever it is, Glenn is winning. I suddenly remember the Crossbow Man, and glance over at him. He’s watching me very closely. My cheeks heat up, and I tear my gaze back towards Shane and Glenn. Shane finally looks at me again, and slowly lowers his gun.

“Glenn over here seems to think you’d be a good addition to our group.” Shane says, clearly irritated. “How’s about you stick around?”

“For what? To be an extra three mouths to feed? If you haven’t noticed, the dogs are a little attached to me. It’d be a package deal.” I counter. Now they’re the ones making me suspicious.

The last man, the one that dropped his gun, finally pipes up, “With a shot like that, you seem like you’d pull your own weight. I’m Jim by the way. What’s your name?”

“...Y/N”, I confess, looking at the three of them. Glenn certainly seems safe. Jim seems alright. I definitely don’t like Shane, but I’m not sure if he’s necessarily dangerous. I look back at the crossbow’d man, still watching me closely, and ask him, “what do you think?”. I can tell the question throws everyone off a bit. He takes a second, looks at the other men, twitches his jaw, then says, “these are good people.”

Good enough for me. I’m about to say as much, when a fifth man emerges from behind the group and says “Well hello Miss. Officer. Fancy seeing you way out here without any of your asshole bodyguards. You still got those handcuffs? Me and you might need those later this fine evening.”

“...MERLE DIXON? You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” I blurt out loud.

“Wait- you know each other?” Glenn asks?

“Unfortunately,” I reply, my voice dripping with disdain, “I hope that doesn’t change your mind.”

Merle waltzes over to me with a shit eating grin, but before he can get anywhere close, both dogs start barking their heads off. He gets the message and backs away, hands up in surrender.

Glenn just smiles, happy as can be, “Nope! You can still come!”

“Cool- I’ll come,” I say as nonchalantly as possible- don’t want to get too excited and make Shane even more suspicious. “My van isn’t far. If you guys work together we can throw the deer in the back and drive it to wherever you guys are staying.”

“You’re not going to help?” Jim says, looking at me.

Hmm. Maybe Jim needs to be on my watch list too. “I shot it? Do I have to do everything?” I throw back at him.

Crossbow Man laughs. I almost forgot he was there, but looking at him again suddenly has me putting the puzzle pieces together. I look at Merle in shock. “Daryl?” I say pointing at the man with the crossbow. “Yes Ma’am. Told you I was the good lookin’ one.” He says. I cannot believe society has collapsed and animated corpses are roaming around feeding on living flesh, yet I have still managed to run into Merle Dixon in the middle of the woods- and to top it all off, the mystery man I’ve been daydreaming about comes from the same gene pool.

Fantastic.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Hi, I really enjoyed the way you write about Rose, so I was wondering if you could write a one shot about Rose The Hat/fem!reader where the reader is a member of the True Knot and can predict the future. As per the story of the book, part of the True Knot left Rose because they were afraid of Abra and the reader went away with them, however she saw a vision of Rose's death and came back just in time to save her :) sorry if my request is not clear, because I write with the help of a translator :)

[Hello lovelies! Super cute ideas! :) I definitely had fun with this one. I hope you don’t mind that I combined both of your asks to write this, I figured they were similar enough to do so.]

Doomsday

Rose the Hat x Fem! True Knot Reader

Summary: The tension between Rose the Hat and Reader leading up to the accident of the Overlook is both productive, and almost damning. Between the love triangle provoked by Rose’s dual pursuit of both Crow Daddy and R, Reader’s visions that produce a future Rose is too stubborn to acknowledge, and the fracturing of the True Knot following the failed capture of Abra, the world comes crashing down both metaphorically and literally as Rose is pulled back from the brink of death by Reader.

Warnings: Alludes to violence, description of gunshot wounds, dying via car crash, implied murder, more death. A metaphysical slap?Hurt/Comfort, hella angsty. Allusions to sex, but you don't get any. (Womp womp).

A/N: This is a re-imagining of the events of Doctor Sleep, what I would consider a healthy split between the book and the movie. It may be tempting to romanticize Rose as the victim here, (she’s evil and really, really, really deserves it), just don’t. The adapted 'Lodsam Hanti, Sabbatha Hanti' chant was translated with the help of this Reddit thread.

Word Count: 5.6k

Waking up in Snakebite Andi’s and Silent Sarey’s trailer felt… Wrong. Mostly because you’d been sleeping in Rose’s trailer for six months. Rose had been on the hunt for ‘the whale’ ever since she felt Abra looking in on her at the supermarket. She’d enlisted you to help. Sure, you could predict when it would rain, accidents, hell you’d predicted the 2017 Eagle Creek fire. The steam from that accident had been weak. Very few deaths. Not a proper ‘Big One’, as Rose called it, but there was something odd Rose had noticed. After taking a particularly good meal, as you’d had once or twice given how new you were to the Knot, you’d get these visions. Real proper visions. Rose had hunches, mostly. They were pretty accurate for hunches, but you, you got images. One trip into a casino, and the True Knot had walked out four hundred thousand richer, not like they needed the money. No, the Knot never needed anything, except steam.

“You gonna go back to the watchtower with Rose?” Andi yawned, in a bra and underwear.

As welcoming as Andi and Sarey were, they weren’t quiet hosts. Noise canceling headphones made little difference. You’d spent your night in interrupted sleep cycles, covering your head with a pillow as Sarey and Andi fucked like rabbits. 

“I don’t think Rose wants me there today.” you answered.

“How come?” Andi asked.

Silent Sarey came up behind Andi, pressing her face into her lover’s neck. The two of them were adorable, the token queer couple in the troop of mostly straight men and women that made up the Knot. The twins were the next closest thing to queer. They didn’t really have gender identities, and they weren’t their own people. They kind of existed as facets of each other. Neither one had a gender or identity separate from the other, you supposed that might’ve made them nonbinary. The twins didn’t do labels aside from being ‘the twins’.  That was their thing. 

“Well…” you stammered, shaking your head to rid yourself of the extensive internal monologue, “She just doesn’t need me. You guys are going up to Frasier to get Abra today, and there’s nothing for me to do except stay with Rose. 

Sarey gave a nod. She struggled to communicate with most people in the Knot, except Andi. She’d whisper away in the lisped speech pattern she had, snuggling closer to her younger lover. But the nod was nice. It was her way of saying, ‘I’m listening’.

“Alright, well, I should be getting ready, we’re heading out early.” Andi smiled.

You nodded, pulling on your shoes and exiting your trailer. You didn’t need to be a witness to the farewell sex the couple would inevitably have. Besides, the morning was too fresh to spend in a stuffy trailer.

“Hiya Dreamie.” Barry the Chunk hooted.

Dreamie. That was your name. It’s what everyone called you, and you didn’t mind it. Better than ‘loonie’ or ‘make-believer’. There were worse words, but it was early. No sense in ruminating on the bad.

“Hi Barry.” you smiled back.

The camp was waking up. And you needed some time away from the masses. There was a tingling in the back of your head, an incessant itch. It was the telltale sign of a vision, and a big one. You debated going up to the watchtower. Rose would get the cue, but you and Rose weren’t exactly on good terms right now. Crow wasn’t on good terms with you.

“Dreamie. Rose wants you.” Crow said, scruffy voice jarring you from your thoughts.

“Speak of the devil.” you mumbled to yourself. “Got it, thanks Crow.”

“It’s Crow Daddy to you, Dreamie.” he gave a smile, too white teeth throwing off the otherwise cleverly hidden sneer.

“Got it.” you gave a curt nod.

Then it was back into the lion’s den. You gave a knock on her trailer door before you came in. A noncommittal hum was the permission granted. One step into the trailer and it was clear Rose and Crow had been fucking. The trailer reeked. 

“It’s nice outside, you should open a window.” 

Rose stretched her arms, in a set of mens pajama pants and a sheer bra. Always with the bras, was she allergic to shirts or something?

“Got any dreams, Dreamie?” Rose smirked, not unkindly.

Like it or not, Rose was always in a good mood after a night of fucking. Always. 

“I have an aura, actually.” you sighed.

“Of course you do.” Rose smirked. “I can feel it, the second you walked in. You get this smell to you.”

She stretched again, rotating and twisting her back until her entire spine cracked. It was a bit eerie, watching how far she could bend.

“Someone’s thoughts are loud this morning.” Rose teased.

You shrugged. She was unusually receptive this morning. Or just allergic to minding her own business. You said that one in your head a bit louder.

“Childish, really.” Rose rolled her eyes, stepping out of her bed and coming forward.

You shrugged, giving her an innocent look. Rose raised an eyebrow, and then she pounced. All six feet of her moved with the agility of a cat, snatching you for a deep hug.

“Hmm… You really do have that aura coming on… You always smell like sandalwood. It’s really strong.” Rose hummed.

“And you stink of sex.”

Rose gave a sharp laugh, pressing you tighter against her.

“You don’t like it? It’s my signature perfume.” Rose joked.

The thought was gag worthy. Mostly because the stench of sex was ninety percent Crow’s BO. God that man stunk sometimes.

“I’ll take a shower if you make me some coffee, hmm?” Rose smirked. 

“Deal.”

Rose smiled, turning and walking towards the shower cubicle in her trailer. She was connected to a water pump currently, she could enjoy a long, extensive shower at the cost of virtually nothing. This campsite was Knot property, after all. With her behind the closed door, you had an opportunity to fumigate the room with fresh air. Every single window in the trailer was open. You stripped her bed, mostly because a night with Crow out meant a night with you in. And sleeping in sheets someone had fucked in? Not ideal, to say the least.

“Honeybunch, I forgot a towel, do you mind?” Rose called.

You paused what you were doing, going to grab her a towel. You made it about halfway to the door before the aura in your head got deafeningly loud. It was always awful, getting a particularly intense vision. First your ears would ring, really fucking loud. And then you’d get nauseous. All the saliva would dry up on your tongue, your hands would shake, and the world would go fuzzy. If you could compare it to something, you’d compare it to how a diabetic felt when their blood sugar dropped. This wasn’t a crisis of the body, though the body exhibited symptoms, it was a crisis of the psyche.

“Honeybunch? Hey, Dreamie, hello?”

You couldn’t focus on Rose. You were hunched in her kitchen, head in between your knees, breathing in and out really slow.

“Dreamie? Helloooo?”

The water turned off. Rose opened the bathroom door sticking her head out. She looked up, at where your eye level would be, and then right back down. Rose swore softly, grabbing a robe hanging outside of the bathroom door, pulling it on.

“It’s a bad one, huh?”

You nodded, it was all the response you could give.

“Well let me know when the symptoms…”

Her voice dulled. High pitched ringing, deafening. Your vision swam and all you could do was focus on your breath before images slammed into your skull.

Gunshots. That was what you heard. A forest clearing with railroad tracks. Teeny town? Yes. Teeny Town. Your hands were shaking, a gun in them. A gunshot through your head took you out. Immediately your perspective shifted, slamming into another person only to be killed milliseconds later. In between the pain of shifting perspectives and violently intense sensations of being shot over and over, there were shapes. People contorting, half-translucent, bodies disappearing into clouds of smoke. All of this was awful, but what was worse was the scene change.

Darkness, a calm drive on a quiet road, music playing over the quiet buzz of radio static.

 The switch was so quick it gave you metaphysical whiplash, almost like your brain was rattling in its skull. A child’s voice with a man’s tamber. That’s what you would describe it as. Looking into the rearview, you made out the shape of a small girl with dark curls and deeply old-looking eyes. Too old for a child, like they were borrowed from a man’s broken stare. Your eyes were dark. A bearded face. Crow. It shook you to see through his eyes. The perspective of the world matched, almost like you were Crow. You couldn’t make out what the girl was saying, but you could make out the threat in them. That was before the car swerved, steering wheel slipping in your hands. This death, was drawn out. You could feel every bone in your neck and upper spine shatter as your head went right through the windshield. The realization that you were going to die, the horrible sense of anguish. And then you cycled. Once, twice, dust. 

“.... okay….. How long… Seizures.. Gone…”

So many voices spoke. Your head ached, so did your body. It felt like someone had shoved you into a dryer on the highest tumble setting, you were so sore.

“...There she is! Dreamie, wake up.”

Colors blurred together, someone shoved something into your lips. A straw. You sipped, juice hitting your tongue, bleeding into the metallic taste there. It stung; somewhere on your tongue there was a cut.

“Jesus, Dreamie, you scared the living shit out of us.” Barry said.

Your body lurched. An image flashed, what you thought would be another lurch from a shotgun was entirely different. Barry burning up with fever. Red welts all over him, like that childhood illness your Mom had vaccinated you for. Pox?

“Hey, hey, easy.” someone whispered.

Rose looked down at you, her face contorted into an expression that would surely accelerate the aging of her smile lines.

“She’s never had one this bad… She was seizing for five minutes before she stopped. Then the last one you saw for yourself.” Rose told Walnut, the doctor of the Knot.

He nodded, taking off the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope he’d been using.

“Well, she’s stable now, it should be okay for the group to leave, we’re already delayed by-”

“NO!”

Rose jolted, gaze snapping downwards. She gave you a confused, angry look.

“What do you mean no? Jesus, send them off already. I can handle little Ms. Visions here.”

Your mouth was so dry, tongue bleeding and swollen. Grabbing for her wrist, you tried to get Rose to understand, to listen, at the very least.

“Shh, tell me in a minute.” Rose replied.

You squeezed more insistently. Rose pursed her lips, looking down at you with a warning look. You stayed silent. Even if the Knot left without you being able to warn Rose, she could always call them back. You stayed with Apron Annie while Rose dressed, slapping her topper on her head before slipping out of her trailer door.

“You sure gave her a scare, you know?” Annie smiled sweetly. 

“I… I saw something bad.”

“I figured. You tell Rose first though. I wouldn’t know what to do with your visions.” Annie shook her head.

You curled into the older woman’s grasp. She’d been a runaway slave before the Knot. Crafty, quick, an avid reader. Nobody read more than Annie, simply because no one refused to be fooled like Annie. 

“And your hair is a rat’s nest, lord have mercy.” Annie sighed.

She got up, getting some of your hair tools before setting down to the task of combing out and braiding your hair. It was comforting, the massaging of rosemary oil into your scalp relieved some of the ache in your head.

“Walnut said to keep drinking that juice. Your blood sugar dropped during the seizure. You’d best listen.”

You nodded weakly, sipping the juice without complaint. Annie’s accent was creeping back in, it always did when she was being stern with somebody. 

“You jus’ rest here awhile.”

←→

It was safe to say Rose didn’t believe you. You’d sat down with her and explained the vision front to back, the men who’d done the shooting and Crow’s death via car crash.

“Rose, I know what I saw-”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Rose snapped. “We need this Abra girl, and the bitch child isn’t going to kill the team.”

Denial. Always with the fucking denial.

“Rose, please.” you tried to coax her.

“No, don’t ‘Rose’ me. Your blood sugar dropped, you had a seizure, and…”

Even Rose was having a hard time believing her own lie. She didn’t want to be wrong. Abra could fix all of the True Knot’s problems. Steam on demand? God, what a novelty. After Grandpa Flick had died, Rose had gone frantic. They’d lost three True in twenty years. Three. That was like losing three family members in two weeks and Crow was getting old. Last night had been an anomaly for them. A whole night of love making three weeks after they’d taken steam? God, that never happened. Rose was still aching from it, still sore from the intensity of it. How often could that be if they were taking steam every three months? Could Abra withstand every two? Every two months for ten, twenty years? They’d consistently age backwards. A secluded ranch, a house? Somewhere permanent? Rose needed that more than she cared to admit.

“Please call them back.” you pleaded.

Rose shook her head immediately. 

“No. No, no, NO!” Rose snarled. ‘They’ll snatch the girl in Frazier, kill the family if necessary. It’ll take three hours tops. I can’t lose this chance just because you had a bad dream.” she snapped.

She watched your mouth bob. There was real fear in your eyes, real anger. It reminded her of a child fighting a tantrum. God, you really were young. Seven years in the Knot, snatched at seventeen, eighteen? A baby. You were a total baby to her, and so fragile. You were young enough and new enough to your gifts that Rose could take a chance on your dreams being wrong. It was plausible that your gifts had far more variability than just visions of the future. She wasn’t going to waste the best catch of her life because someone had anxiety.

“When they all die, it’s your fault.” you mumbled, getting off the floor of her trailer and practically running out of the door.

“Come off your soap box, Dreamie!” Rose growled.

You were gone. But someone else was waiting at her doorstep.

“Rose, Walnut called. The sickness that took Flick? Barry has it.” Annie anxiously whispered.

Rose’s breath caught in her chest. The sickness? Flick had died of old age, exasperated by heart conditions, not a sickness. But that was a lie too. For a week now, members of the Knot had been waking up with red spots on their bodies. Walnut had brushed it off as a skin condition from the bad showers, but privately he had told Rose a different story. The Knot was sick, they needed steam. Steam from a young, healthy, vaccinated child like Abra. Chicken pox was his diagnosis. And the True Knot weren’t healthy enough to withstand it.

←→

A night later, Walnut called. Barry was getting worse. He was starting to cycle. The group was scared and facing the possible passing of one of their own. There’d be no time to delay, they needed to work fast, leading Crow to split up and take a more direct approach to the girl’s residence. For the first time since the invention of the interstate, Rose told her people to speed.

“Rose, Dreamie is asking for you.” Annie interrupted her thoughts.

Rose turned, smiling up at her longtime friend. The smile fell off of her face, landing on the floor like a glass dish. Her stomach lurched. Annie had a spot on her neck, a big one too. Giving a tighter, less genuine smile, Rose slipped out of her trailer. Dreamie was curled up in a camp chair. She looked cozy, in blankets. Rose’s mind was elsewhere, she had every reason to prepare for a fight.

“If you’re here to tell me-”

“I’m not.” you cut her off, looking up at her gently.

Rose let out a breath and then nodded. She motioned you up, sat in the chair and opened her arms. You were a comforting weight in her grasp, and you smelled faintly of sandalwood. You’d have another vision soon, not that Rose cared. What was more pressing was the weight of your body on hers leaving her feeling soft, a bit vulnerable.

“Spend the night with me.” Rose whispered. “No strings attached.”

Rose needed it. She needed the intimacy of a night with someone young, inexperienced.

“What about Crow?” you whispered back, face twisted into an anxious look.

Rose sniffed, letting out an annoyed breath. She’d had enough of your anxiety for three decades. But they were so close to getting it all, and Rose wanted it all. 

“Crow isn’t going to find out. One night, one.” she whispered, eyes glimmering with an unfamiliar softness.

God, what you wouldn’t give for one night. The teasing, the pet names, the sleep overs… And it wouldn’t be rough, judging from the look in her eyes.

“Okay.” you breathed out.

Rose smiled, kissing your temple. You both stood, her hand in yours, bare feet padding across the dirt of the campground. Her trailer smelled of incense which meant she’d been meditating extensively, probably astral projecting to ensure the troop headed to Abra was okay. There were a few candles lit, adding to the ambience.

“Come here.” Rose whispered, shutting her camper door. 

Her arms found your waist, her mouth on your neck. She was so damn tall, and soft. Soft everywhere now that she was aging. You liked her soft, it was comforting.

“Lay down on the bed for me.” Rose whispered.

You complied, walking backwards, meeting her blue eyes. Your thighs hit the bed, and you scooted, backward, laying flat over her comforter. Her mouth was on yours, lips soft, tempting, and tongue flicking out to taste you throughout the kiss. After every kiss she’d give a soft hum, her fingers lazily slipping under your shirt to caress the skin underneath. Her fingers were soft, and she gave a sly grin, shifting her hips to straddle you further. Your arms tangled in her hair, enough to tempt her into removing the topper. She did, leaning further into the kiss. You would’ve thought someone like Rose wouldn’t like soft, wouldn’t find the moments of drawn out foreplay and intimacy worthwhile. You were wrong, so so wrong. Her mouth on your neck, her hands grasping you tight, bodies tangled like pretzels. This was right, this was the moment.

←→

An early morning call awoke Rose. It was from Walnut. She was on the phone for thirty seconds, and then her hands were wrapped around your waist. “Wake up, wake up!” Rose said, distressed. “Wha..”

Her hands were everywhere, lifting you up, throwing open the curtains to illuminate your body. She ran her hands over every inch, skimming every mark, every mole, every soft stretch mark. Rose didn’t relax until she was sure you didn’t have a single mark. 

“Oh, thank god.” Rose almost wept with relief, clutching you tight.

“Rose, what’s happened?” you asked, now wide awake and worried.

“The Knot has chickenpox. It killed Barry.”

Your body tensed. You’d never told Rose about the vision you’d had of Barry. “Chickenpox? Chickenpox can’t kill-”

“It doesn’t kill rubes. We aren’t rubes, Dreamie.” Rose growled out. “And if we don’t find a cure it’ll kill all of us.”

All of us? 

“Rose, I was vaccinated as a kid.”

Her expression tensed, and then relaxed. But then she frowned, a furious expression on her face.

“That’s because you’re young. Spoiled by modern medicine.” she spit.

You reached up, cupping her face. Rose was lashing out because she was scared, and upset. One of the Knot had died. Her family had died. You leaned forward, kissing her forehead. Rose didn’t cry, but she reached forward, cradling you tight.

“Thank god you’re vaccinated.” she whimpered.

←→

The Knot didn’t take Barry’s death well. There was a bit of hysteria, hysteria Rose struggled to calm. She leaned on you more and more, spending her nights tangled up with you in her sheets, an escape from her stress, from the hunger that was starting to claw at everyone’s throats. She had gray hairs again. Her crow’s feet were pronounced, skin starting to go scaly from sun damage. You didn’t love her any less, taking time to appreciate every bit of her changing body in between the bursts of passion. You aged too, turning from 17 to 21, almost 22. It wasn’t much of a difference, you were already quite young for a Knot member. But the hunger was awful.

“My joints ache, I’m going to take a shower.” Rose sighed, rolling out of bed.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your sleepy face. You smiled, watching her pull on sweats and a shirt before grabbing some things. She meant the camp showers. They had a bit more space than her RV stall, you couldn’t blame her. The heat was more consistent too. You went back into a blissful sleep. It was broken fifteen minutes later when you heard a scream.

Half dressed in a pair of panties and an oversized shirt, you were running out of Rose’s trailer, bolting through the campsite in the direction of the scream. It was Rose, crumpled in Annie’s arms in front of the shower, sobbing in confusion and anger. Her towel was sagging.

“Rose, Rose.” you whispered, kneeling down and helping to cover her.

Her hands landed on your shoulders. An image burning forward. Gunshots, cycling, a smoke filled campsite.

“They’re dead. Everyone is fucking dead.” she sobbed.

You’d made it to the steps of her trailer before she collapsed against the steps, wailing like the dying.

“Crow!”

An image flashed through your mind, fear and pain as the vertebrae of your neck compressed, body flying through the windshield. Everyone had died, just as you’d predicted. Rose hadn’t listened.

←→

“That the last of it?” Annie asked, out of breath.

“Yeah, just two boxes.”

You were busy packing your things into Annie’s and Diesel Doug’s truck. In the days following the death of eight of the most prominent True Knot members, chaos had erupted. People packing their bags, convinced death was on their doorstep. The chickenpox was taking someone every other day now. Everyone was running, everyone was fleeing. You were leaving for a different reason, more personal. Rose had lashed out at you, blaming the entire loss of the crew on you. Rose insisted that if she had known that the visions were serious she would’ve called back the team. Your visions were serious, she just hadn’t listened. More fighting, more name calling, more discord. 

“I’m sorry Rose treated you that way.” Doug sighed, shifting the car in gear. “We’re all grieving, but treating you that way was a shitty thing to do.”

You nodded once, sneaking a glance in the rearview. Rose stood in front of her trailer, arms crossed, top hat balanced on her head. You could feel her thousand yard stare from here.

“You’re gonna die out there, Dreamie.” you heard a voice crawl through your ear, invasive and almost wet feeling.

“Well at least I won’t die alone.”

A phantom sensation cracked through the bones of your face, like you’d been slapped. You let out a choked cough, catching Annie’s attention. 

“I’m fine, choked on my own spit.” you mumbled.

“Bitch.”

You didn’t get a response. You figured she was saving the last laugh for later.

The drive into the Montana mountains was rough. Snow was starting to fall.

“You had to take the Denver route?” Annie groaned. 

“Who the fuck goes through the rockies at this time of year? It would take days!” Doug growled.

They were both irritable, both covered in red spots. You were in denial this time. If they died you really would be alone. Maybe that was Rose’s last laugh. The three of you settled into the hotel, Doug and Annie in a king bed, you in a twin pullout. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen, and you sure as hell couldn’t sleep. An overcoat on, boots crunching through the gravel, you set out to explore the area around the hotel. 

You felt a bit dizzy, probably from the altitude. Sitting on a boulder for a bit didn’t help, deep breaths of cool mountain air just made you feel sicker. Your ears began to ring, and that’s when it all added up. You were ready to brace yourself when-

“My, my. What a temper you have.”

You were speaking through Rose, a man’s flushed, pained face underneath her as Rose batted away his arms like he was nothing but an overgrown toddler.

“So much fire. Such a waste.”

You could feel Rose’s anger, her hatred for this man. You recognized him, he’d shot a few of the True Knot at the Teeny Town campsite. And his stare was so familiar.

“Or maybe not.”

It was horrific, this vision. You could feel everything Rose was doing, her sighs of delight as she ate the man’s steam, her thumb in his thigh. Rose was cruel, but this cruelty made your stomach churn in knots. 

“Oh, you’re not alone in there.” Rose breathlessly gasped. “What are you hiding? What’s in those?! Something special, huh?!”

That disgusting, inescapable feeling of dread clawed through you. It was impossible to speak in visions, but you wanted to. You wanted to scream. You could see the boxes as she saw them, alive and vibrating. They were full of darkness, and in Rose’s haste she wasn’t inspecting the aura, she was ravenous for food, for blood.

“They’re not special. They’re starving.”

The vision was a blur from there. Horror, fear, pain as Rose was eaten alive. You awoke on the ground of the hotel reception room, gasping for air and shaking.

“She has these seizures, poor dear.” Annie was tiredly explaining to the frightened hotel receptionist.

You didn’t let them give you juice. You didn’t let them feed you. There wasn’t time.

“I need the car.” you gasped to Diesel Doug. “Stay here.”

←→

The drive up into the mountains of Colorado was awful. You’d been taught to drive in the snow three years earlier by Jimmy Numbers, but this was something else. You’d loaded up Diesel’s trusty all wheel drive truck up with gas at the final station, filling up both tanks with diesel. You were driving up the mountains at night, hands glued to the wheel. Rose would be proud of you, pinpointing the location of the vision through memory alone. But this wasn’t about being proud.

The lights of the Overlook were on. You didn’t have time. Rose’s trailer was parked outside, you didn’t have time! You turned off the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, doors unlocked. It was so cold up here, one of the doors was frozen shut. You didn’t have time to break through the door, so you made the next best decision, breaking through a window with an axe. It was boarded up but the wood had rotted, giving you enough bend to punch through the wood with the butt of the axe. There were voices, not from people. The same darkness of the man’s boxes lingered here, and the whispers added more adrenaline to your movements. The hallways were mazes. It felt like this stupid hotel was trying to confuse you, to trap you here. It wanted blood, it knew you were hindering its meal.

“... I seem to have nicked your femoral artery. Gonna bleed to death, huh?”

You knew that voice. Well. A kid darted by you. Jet black hair, dark skin. Abra.

“You’re…” she stammered, backing away.

“I’m not here for you. Go.” you snapped at the little girl.

You turned, following the direction she’d come from. A large hall came into view, stairs descending downwards. Rose was crouched over the man, voice echoing. You attempted to step down the stairs, but there was some kind of force keeping you there, confusing you. Why did you even want to go down there in the first place? No, you were here for the little girl, weren’t you? Because you’re hungry. The woman at the bottom of the stairs is hungry too. You can’t let her catch the girl before you do, you’ll go hungry.

There was something you were forgetting. You looked down at the woman below you, confused. She was gasping in pleasure, feasting. You were so hungry too. You saw where the little girl had gone too. You knew where she was. No. No, the woman was important. You could feel it, an unmistakable, annoying little scratch in your brain. You were close to remembering something, almost like you were trying to remember a dream.

Dream! No. No. Dreaming? Day dreaming? Dream… Dreammmmmm……. 

Dreamie. Rose, the vision, the hotel. The tricks of the hallways, the bad aura. It all connected in your brain.

“.... Not special. They’re starvi-”

“NO!”

In your haste to get to Rose, you have walked, half slid down the stairs. There were about ten figures between you and Rose. All reaching all starving, all grabbing, all-

“The girl is in the maze.” you gasped. “She has more steam than all of us combined.”

The figures jerked, each turning to look at you with a peculiar, inhuman hunger. If the Knot were vampires, these were phantoms. Demons of the night, more deadly, more encompassing. The kind of dead that don’t stay dead.

“The maze. A girl named Abra.” I gasped.

They pushed forward at once, nearly stampeding you in their haste to eat. The man was heaving, reaching for the ax. You kicked him in the ribs, hard. Rose lay on the ground, crumpling in on herself, red dots crawling up her arms in accelerated fashion. The dead had taken much of her steam.

“Rose, Rosie.” you gasped, reaching for her.

She looked skeletal. It was the kind of skeletal that a True Knot took on before they started cycling.

“Steam.” she  weakly pointed to the man.

And you both were starving.

←→

Rose sat in a camp chair outside, feet propped up. She was soft looking, back to the usual look she got in between feedings.

“Mmm…” she hummed, twitching slightly.

“Crook in your neck?” you asked.

“More like an itch.”

She looked up, holding her arms out. 

“Let me see my beautiful girl, hmm?”

You smiled, curling in her lap. Tilting her head back, she exposed her jaw. You took the bait, nibbling softly as she sighed in contentment.

“I’m itching to open a canister.” Rose smirked. “Get nice and full, spend the night in the sand…”

She was getting old again. And the spots were coming back.

“Rose, can we try the siphoning method?”

She rolled her eyes.

“The pox spots only show up when I haven’t eaten. They go away once I’m full.”

You leaned in, nuzzling your nose against hers.

“It can’t hurt to try.”

Rose sighed, and then nodded. You both arose, walking into her trailer. She took out one of the canisters. You’d filled it with the spirit of the Overlook twins after they’d fed from Abra. It was easy enough, coaxing out the spirits. They’d gorged themselves on the little girl, ripped her to shreds, practically. Open up a canister that had a tiny bit of steam, and they’d pounce, only to be sucked inside with the vapors of steam. That’s all these spirits were, after all. Steam with a bit of bite. They tasted good, too.

“Alright, do you want to do the ritual?” Rose asked.

“You’re Irish is better than mine.” you smiled softly.

She nodded, holding your hands in hers.

“Meabhair, suaite, gortú” We are the chosen ones.

“Wounder rúnda, gortú” We are the fortunate ones

“I ngach slí gortaithe” We are the True Knot and we endure. What is tied can never be untied.

You took deep breaths of the steam in, filling your lungs with the haunted essence of the twin girls. Once the entire can was bubbling in your body, you reached forward, breathing the steam that had now become your essence into Rose’s awaiting mouth. In theory, you were breathing your own essence down her throat. Your vaccinated essence.

Her lips found yours once you were done, her hands tangled in your hair as she kissed you hard. She tasted like the blackberry mojitos you’d made an hour ago, tongue rolling over yours.

“I love being alive with you.” Rose moaned, half pulling, half dragging you out of the trailer. She was young again, twenty seven, shimmering and panting with desire.

“Rose!” you giggled.

Her hands ran under your skirt, grabbing your thighs mischievously.

“It is broad daylight.” you snickered.

“And I don’t see anyone around, do you?”

She took an inhale of your hair, catching a whiff of an aura hanging over your head.

“Dreamie, no seizures.” Rose playfully warned.

“Shh. It could be a Big One.” you winked.

It was a new year’s celebration, anyway. A new year, a new decade. Twenty-twenty. Something about those numbers screamed food, or more so, misery. But for the True Knot, misery was food, death and destruction was food.

Tag List: @bjoerkumlaut, @lovelyy-moonlight, @coffee-is-my-oxygen, @appparadox407, @ilovehotactresses, @marvelwomenrule

[cumulo-stratus]

Love Like a Fathers

Request: Hello, hope you're having a good day/night, I was wondering if I could request Spencer x Father figure reader, theyre On a case the unsub tries to kill Spencer but reader protects him and gets hurt himself.

Pairing: platonic!Spencer reid x Father figure!reader

Summary: Y/n gets hurt protecting Spencer from an unsub, and y/n and spencer spend some time together at the hospital

warnings: cannon typical violence, gunshot wounds/blood, swearing, s1 spencer being an adorable little cutie-pie <3

A/N: Friend I'm so so so sry this has been a WIP for like month😭- I've had like no motivation to write :( thank you for the patience and for the lovely request, and although ive never written platonic for spencer, i did my best! btw the lovely dividers are by @cafekitsune (not proof read)

1.3k

Spencer Reid and Y/n L/n weren’t related by blood, but if you asked anyone that knew them- they would tell you that it doesnt matter. y/n treated spencer like the son he never had, and spencer treated y/n like the father he lost. Even if you didn’t know them, you could tell the pair were close. Spencers intellect bounced well of y/n’s wisdom. Hotch knew this, and often paired spencer with y/n because of it. And when they got called to a case in the small town of Trutney, Alabama, it was no different. 

As soon as the plane landed l/n and reid had been paired off to go to the M.E.’s to look at the one body they had so far. And so the next 2 days went by as uneventfully as they could go on a case with the BAU. Interviews, and case files - take out around a conference table and calls to garcia- just a regular BAU case. Until the last day when they were sure they had the right guy; Daniel Wilson, he fit the profile perfectly. And so the team was spilt into 2 groups; one going to the house and one going to the workplace. Hotch sent y/n and spencer to the back knowing y/n would have spencers back if anything happened. 

As they crept through the long hallways silently the pair would share glances every now and then. When they reached a split Y/n made a silent flick of his wrist ordering spencer to take the path to the right while y/n would take the path to the left. Y/n stalked down the hall with his gun raised leaving Spencer to do the same with the other hallway. 

Y/n was clearing the final room at the end of the hall when the distant sound of grunting and a gun shot. Without another though y/n raced down the hall toward the continuous grunting yelping. Y/n just barely remembered to call for back up as he ran- Morgan's voice sounding through the phones speakers.

"What's up L/n-"

He was interrupted by y/n's out breath voice.

"I heard a shot from Reid's side of the house I need backup" 

Before Morgan could respond y/n hung up, stuffing the phone in his back pocket. When y/n reached the source of the sounds, he found a door slightly ajar. He pushed it open all the way to find Spencer on the loop ground with the unsub above him. They were pushing against eachother trying sway the barrel of the gun in their favor. Spencer was trying to push the barrel away from his head while the unsub did the opposite. Without hesitation y/n crossed the room and grabbed the unsub roughly by his shoulders throwing him away from spencer. Spencer took no time at all the scramble away, his feet sliding as he fumbled to push himself away.  Meanwhile y/n and the unsigned were in a struggle for the gun. And almost as if in slow mo, spencer saw a bullet leave the barrel and enter y/ns shoulder- right where his neck met his shoulders. The resounding bang that came with it caused spencers ears to ring. but caused everything to come back to normal speed was the second gunshot, from y/n to the unsubs chest. He fell to the ground, bleeding out. 

“Spencer! spencer i need you to put pressure on the wound- okay?” 

Despite the many filed first aid books he’d read, spencer couldnt recall a single bit of information- and was only listening y/n’s instructions. 

“alright now use my sweater- ya its right over there. We need something to stop the bleeding-“

Y/n interrupted himself with small grunts and grimaces every time his shoulder moved. But luckily spencer was in it enough to properly use the sweater y/n had provided.

At this point spencers hands were soaked in blood, and so was the sweater. It was warm, and sticky- drying and cracking on the back of his hands. Just then Morgan came storming in, a mix of swat and paramedics trailing behind him. A paramedic took the sweater from spencer’s hands and he was pulled away by Morgan to checked out- despite his protests. spencer was quite insistent he stay with y/n but Morgan settled him enough to get checked out by telling him that he would be updated if anything happened. 

Spencer stood in front of the open doors of an ambulance- restlessly wringing his hands together while an EMT patched the small gash on his forehead. Spencer had resisted saying anything about how he thought it was unnecessary- as it wasn’t even bleeding that much. But spencer knew better than to argue with Morgan at this point. 

Spencer practically ran- which he didn’t do very often- to the nearest large black SUV. As he walked/ran across the lawn he called out to morgan.

“St. Mary’s right?”

“on 32nd street-“

spencer didnt allow morgan to finish- instead climbing into one of the FBI vehicles littering the street. 

The fluorescent lights of the hospital burned spencers retinas as spoke the woman at the desk. 

“excuse me where is Y/n L/n’s room?’

as he spoke, spencer drummed his fingers against the desk- anxious to see y/n. Make sure he was okay. 

“Down the hall and to your left, room 328 sir”

Spencer barely managed a curt thank you and nod before he was speed walking down the hall. the lights in the hospital clashed with the stark white of the hall when spencer entered. They were dimmed to be only slightly brighter than the dark sky through the glass. spencer found y/n asleep soundly with a large bandage across his shoulder and butterfly bandages littering his exposed chest and face. Spencer could feel some of the weight lift off his shoulders when his eyes met y/ns closed ones. 

----

Despite the dim light it still took effort for y/n keep his eyes open once he woke up. The first thing he noticed was sleeping form of Spencer draped over an uncomfortable looking chair. His back and neck were bent forward in what looked to be a not very comfortable position to sleep in. 

Spencer stirred when y/n grunted quietly from the pain of sitting himself up. Spencer immediately rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to help y/n, and as always y/n tried to tell Spencer he was fine and didn't need help. But y/n always made an exception for Spencer- especially he insisted with his innocent honey brown eyes. 

"Spence I'm fine bud- come sit with me"

Y/n had a smile on his face and patted the spot next to him which he had now made by scooching over. Spencer shyly climbed up next y/n, his slacks and blazer looking out of place to the hospital gown y/n was wearing. 

"You know you really scared me back there-"

Spencer was staring at his hands as he spoke- remembering the blood that had once coated them. Y/n took the opportunity to place a comforting comforting hand on Spencer's back, rubbing back and forth the way y/ns own family did. 

"I know- but you can't rid of me that easily bud"

They both laughed lightly at that and instead of responding verbally Spencer leaned his head on y/ns shoulder, appreciating the warmth of y/ns excess internal heat. Spencer was often the one to take advantage of the human heater of a person y/n was. And this was one of those moments. 

No more words were needed for the rest of the evening. They weren't needed for anything- the team could handle it (and it helped that Hotch knew how stressed Spencer was and let him know he could stay at the hospital with y/n). 

And there; in the dimly lit hospital room, that smelled of disinfectant, Spencer felt more comforted than in his own home. 

The End 

Pls leave a like and a reblog!

[shikariiin]

Here I am again!!! I hope you'll notice 🙏🙏🙏🙏Because I NEED your responses again 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 If you would be so kind 🥺I'll start again in order:

About AU:1.Why was the experiment with Thomas necessary? What was the plan to do with him next? Why was it necessary for Gresley and Furness road?2.Can a locomotive die from "human" injuries incompatible with life? Can you tell more about the differences between industrial type and biological type?

About Alice:1.Did any of the locomotives, besides Molly and Spencer, work with Alice for the army?2. Did Alice and Spencer work on the front lines or on the home front?(probably a stupid question, but I'm a bit not sure how it's work)3.How did Spencer, Alice, and Molly react to the end of the war?

About Spencer:1.Did Spencer enjoy working for the military? Would he like to go back to them again or did he enjoy working for the Duke more? What are his thoughts on the military orders and system? If Spencer could, would he want to put Thomas in a military academy to get him to stop being cheeky?Does he like having a military rank in his current life, and how has military service and war affected his behaviour?2.Everything is clear with tormented Alice 😓 But was Spencer happy in his marriage? Did he wish he didn't have that forced relationship too, or did he not care/he was in favour? Did he have a mistress? And how did the marriage affect him later in life, if at all? Was it hard for both of them to agree to the marriage, to sleep(🌚) together(how did they even do it ×.×) and to get along together at all?3.Does anyone know (besides you, of course, heh) that Spencer's cane is a weapon, and are there any laws restricting him from using it? What part of this cane is dangerous?? So interesting ×^×4.How bad is Spencer? I mean, is it something like "overly arrogant patriarchal psychotic bastard" or is there something else about him? Something good, or something even worse? Could he have hit Thomas or any other child? Outside of his relationship with Alice, has he behaved decently to other people?5.What is Spencer's attitude towards diesels? There are a lot of them on the mainland after all o.O

We'll go over this again oh Im excited!!

About AU :

1. I'm assuming this is about the arranged marriage, BIOFORGE, the company who started all this hybrid engine, was the one who initiated it for the sake of making more hybrid the faster way, Only early Industrial engines was made with a reproductive system due to the shortage of materials somewhere down the line, is why it was necessary.

2. No Hybrid can die due to normal Human injuries (stabbing, gunshot, etc), An Industrial engine is more durable and more efficient, they are made without a digestive tract so does not require food, Biological engines takes a more human body, with complete set of organs, this draws a set back to them if they get stabbed, they won't bleed put but there will be complications, the only way to make them fully dead is by smelting/Scrapyards.

About Alice :

1. There's quite few more that works with her, but they make mo significant to her storyline, aka mostly just background characters :p

2. Alice is on the frontlines as a Medic/Medics transport, while Spencer is just transport

3. They all were assigned to other things (the duke, etc etc) but mostly relieved

About Spencer :

1. He liked it enough, but as a grand engine he much preferred being with the duke

2. He has no feelings towards the system but is supportive of any decisions Bioforge made.

3. No he wouldn't, he love his son despite the circumstances, and his current weird situation with them ajdhsjskw

4. He was happy, deep inside he had regrets, but his Ego got the best of him, force or not he loved Alice dearly, but he's not the best for her.

5. He flirts around, but he doesn't have a mistress (which was, surprisingly, his choice)

6. It severely affected Spencer, both on his torn emotions and Reputation

7. They got along in few moments, how they slept together is in with consent from both of them, is anyone was worried about that ajdhssj

8. No one knows his cane is a weapon, no laws restrict him from using it, and the dangerous part would be the sword imbedded within

9. His character is a gray area leaning towards evil, he wants to be kinder and loved, but his ego make him irredeemable.

10. No he wouldn't hit Thomas, or any other children (unless those children are in his way ig).

11. No he has not behave any decently andhsjs

12. I made most of the diesels (not all) work for Spencer, like an underling :p

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry it took so long,,,

🩵🩵🩵

[ravencincaide]

Over a gunshot 

Summary:  When you were called into your bosses office you expected a lot of things; a mission, a punishment, maybe even death. What you did not expect was to be taught a lesson. Even less so to have to show you were able and willing to be more than just a simple dealer.. 

Pairing: Subordinate fem!Reader x Boss Chuuya 

Author note: This is an independent part two of Over a Cigarette

Warnings: Cursing, guns, violence, murder and blood, mention of being a drug dealer, 

8:58

You rocked on your feet outside the office door. Your hands sweaty, clampy, as you grasped the door knob in between shaky fingers. A deep breath, one, two. You closed your eyes for a second, sent prayers to anyone who would dare listen and hoped someone would answer them. A little luck and a ton of mercy was what you were asking for. All in all, not an all that big request- although as you stood outside your boss's boss, outside the leader of the entire Port Mafia office, you knew mercy would equate to a miracle. 

One last deep breath before you pressed down on the handle and pushed the heavy office door opened. It gave away with a squeal. 

8:59

You were hit with the pungent scent of blood. 

You froze in the doorway, breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes locked at the boss seated at the heavy desk. Curtains drawn shut behind him, making the bright red glow that surrounded him that much more prominent. 

Ominous. 

Murderous. 

Like staring the devil in the face. A handsomely twisted face outline with the deadly red hue. The hue which made the blue of his eyes stand out all the more. His lips parted into a twisted grin at the sight of you. One gloved hand raised, while the second tapped the fountain pen against a stack of papers- undoubtedly reports. It was a custom one, parker if you weren’t mistaken and you swore you could see a hint of golden engraving on its body. Chuuya finished writing the sentence before he set the pen back into its stand beside the black digital clock. Even the innocent red letters were unsettling. They added to the morbidity of the situation. 

�� I-is it a bad time?” you stammered out as another whiff of blood reached your senses. You felt your stomach drop in fear, felt how your hand on the doorknob  shook. You kept your eyes firmly on the Mafia boss, on his calm composure and the menaced red. You were afraid. No, you were more than afraid- petrified. You did not dare look around to see where that metallic scent came from. 

“ You’re on time, get in here and close the door behin’ you” Chuuya stated as his hand readjusted the position of the fountain pen in its holder. Your eyes followed the gloved hands moment. 

You swallowed thickly. Your eyes landed back on the clock. Saw the seconds tick away painfully slowly until the digits changed. A screech came from the device; it broke you out of your trance. This ungodly sound dedicated to your arrival- a confirmation that you followed his order to the minute. 

You stepped inside Chuuya’s office and closed the door behind you to the sound of the blaring alarm. Your eyes never once left the clock. This Friday morning would forever be engraved in your memory. The once in your lifetime when being  on time undoubtedly saved your life; but also meant you were right on time to see your future change.

9:00 

The sound of a pained groan drew your attention away from the clock and your eyes flickered in that direction. You gasped, your hand flew up to your face in horror. Five men you had seen but a week ago drinking away at a pub were on their knees. The five you had taken a picture of. But it was the sixth man who made your blood run cold; the familiar face of your boss. The very man who brought you into the mafia. But-but why? Your eyes shifted back to Chuuya’s cocky expression.

“ What?! But you said-” 

“ I know what I said” he cut you off promptly “ Lesson one; never trust an executive’s words at face value. Especially outside closed doors. If I say ‘don’t hold back’ then–” he motioned for you to finish his sentence 

“ .. then show restraint?” your voice came out small. 

“ And if I say innocent” realization slowly dawned on you. It made you feel stupid for not thinking of that possibility sooner. Still despite your nod of affirmation, he forced you to say those words out loud.

“ - then they’re guilty traitors” Your eyes landed back on the men kneeling on the floor. Beaten, bruised and surrounded by the red ability which kept them pinned in place. Barely breathing, not moving, definitely glaring. In too much pain to do anything but to grind their teeth together and just-breathe. 

“ Port Mafia has no place for rats.” You heard the drawer open and flicked your eyes in Chuuya’s direction just as he threw something towards you. A red-hued gun which landed almost softly in your hands. 

You nearly dropped it but caught yourself at the last second. Who knew what he would do to you if you damaged his property. 

“ What? Never held a gun before?” Chuuya’s tone was mocking, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Then his expression shifted into disbelief as you shook your head. “ What kind of fuckin’ mafia are you if you can’t even handle a gun, girl!” 

“ A bootlegger” you mumbled almost ashamedly. You had hoped that your sign of loyalty would get you higher in the ranks; maybe even your own clientele with a set of runners to watch over. Not- not this. 

“ Ehh? Well in that case there’s no harm in showing you how ‘ts done” Chuuya stood up from his seat and strolled over to you. 

Each step a deafening sound that made the soon to be dead men more rigid.

Each step filled you with dread; your stomach turned, heart hammered in your ears while the vile taste of bile echoed in just the back of your throat. 

Each step he took made the gravity of the situation hit you that much harder. 

“ W-Wait-”

You took a step back but Chuuya did not let you run. With a rough tug of your wrist he brought you himself, placed your shaking body in front of him. Your back against his chest, arms on either side of you. Skilled hands grasped yours, with the glock between. 

“ This here, you pull back, then push the cartridge here to reload-” his motion was fluid; he cocked the gun with ease as if it were second nature then raised your arms up so you aimed at one of the men. “ And none of that Hollywood one hand bullshit- both hands, steady. And then–” you let out a scream as he pulled the trigger with your finger. 

The gunshot made your ears ring. The body- the way it flopped to the floor was deafening. You heaved, dropped your arms back to your side. Your world was spinning, mind raced. You were— Chuuya grasped a fistfull of your hair and pulled you back up into an upright position. 

“ Get a fuckin grip and reload it” his voice a dangerous hiss in your ear; a knee between your legs propped you up. You shook your head, words of protest on your tongue that you couldn’t get past your lips. You hiccupped, shook like a leaf and if it weren’t for his fingers holding the glock in your hands you’d have dropped it long ago “Tsk, fine show you again, but better pay goddamn attention”  

He repeated the motion again, slower, made sure you watched his every move before he raised the gun a second time and aimed it at the man in the middle. His choice made your eyes widen;“ Now shoot him” 

“ N-No”  you flicked backwards, subconsciously pressing yourself up against Chuuya’s chest. “ He is my boss” 

“ Was” Chuuya corrected in a heartbeat. “ I am your boss. Where’s your bloody loyalty anyways?” His hands moved from your hands to your arms steadying your hold. 

Despite yourself and everything in your mind that screamed that you couldn’t fucking  kill anyone you kept the gun raised. Eyes firm on the man who had been your boss for so many years. 

“ I did so much for you, you goddamn brat and you had to blabber your ugly mouth” Your old boss wheezed; a clear intention of making this as painful for you as possible. Each pet name, each memory, each helping hand he had stretched towards you made your hands shake just a little more. Your old boss was someone you hated and admired, who forced you to grow up but also showed you a rare instance of kindness. He held an important position in your life. Although you would never admit it- never dear indulge in those thoughts but he always had and always would hold a fragment of your heart in the palm of his hand. 

But were you such a good person that you’d sacrifice your own life for your morale? Were you so righteous that you’d accept being tortured and murdered for a soon to be deadman? Memories and old loyalty- or to survive and get revenge. 

You took a steadying breath. Flickered your eyes away from the cursing, spluttering man and moved your gaze to your right.  Subconsciously your eyes were drawn to the dark red letters of the digital clock on Chuuya’s table. The time registered in your mind- forever engraved just like the angry betrayed look on your bosses- no old family, old friends face. 

 9:36 

The second gunshot echoed through the base. 

Author note: No one asked for a part two of Over a Cigarette but this is exactly what you guys got, yelp. Well if you're still here, reading this, I'm not sure what to say? Have a cookie? And I hope you enjoyed it! Not your cup of tea? Well I have a ton more works that you can check out instead by viewing Raven's masterlist!

Until next time! ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[dinums]

The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby x Reader

This is part 2, by the way! Check out part 1 first!

Part 3

Summary: Ada gets married, Thomas takes a Barmaid to a Derby, Thomas, and (Y/N) gets closer.

Word counter: 2,056 words

"Should I be crying? You look like an angel, Ada," I said wholeheartedly, helping her with the veil as I admired her through the reflection in the mirror. My words brought a chuckle from her, filling the room with a lightness.

"Do you think he'll like it? Freddie, I mean," she asked, seeking reassurance.

"Of course he will. Ang ganda mo kaya," I replied

"Ganda mo kaya?" Ada questioned, curious about the meaning. I explained, "It means 'you're beautiful.'' With her heart full of love, she left the house early in the morning.

Later that day, Pol asked me to run some errands around town, buy a few things at the market, though I knew she wanted me to take a breather from everything that's been happening, that I was thankful for. As I walked, the mud stained my shoes, and the smoke filled the sky, reminding me that this environment was vastly different from what I was accustomed to. I veered towards a less crowded section of town, continuing my walk, when suddenly, the sound of a gunshot pierced the air. My body froze, and my head snapped in the direction of the noise. In the distance, I spotted two figures—a man and a woman. Without daring to investigate further, I swiftly turned and ran, paying no mind to the mud splattering on my skirt. At that moment, running was the only important thing, outfit be damned.

"Jusko po..." I gasped, leaning my back against a wall once I deemed myself far enough from the commotion. I panted heavily, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. People cast strange glances in my direction, but I paid them no mind. No one could know what I had witnessed.

After calming myself down for a while, I realized I couldn't simply return home. Walking down the familiar streets, I made my way to the market and purchased the items on my list. Once back home, I placed them on the kitchen table before heading upstairs to change. Convincing myself that the gunshot from earlier were just friendly fire, that utbjust happened on accident.

As I descended the stairs, I overheard the boys conversing amongst themselves. Arthur now owned the Garrison, and Tommy had made an attempt on Ada's husband. They were planning to attend a Derby.

"So, you're taking the pretty barmaid, eh mate?" John asked. I paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, realizing that Tommy had a date.

Peeking my head around the corner, I caught sight of John and Arthur snickering to themselves.

"Whoa, Thomas has a date?" I exclaimed, capturing the attention of the three men. John was the first to respond, saying, "Of course he does."

"And she's a pretty one too, works at the Garrison!" Arthur chimed in. Unbeknownst to me, Thomas had been watching me the entire time, and as our eyes met, I gave him a thumbs-up.

"Good luck, treat her right," I said, my smile turning into a more serious expression. I was well aware of how women were often treated by men during these times.

"It's just business," Tommy replied dismissively.

"Everything is always business to you, Tommy," Arthur groaned, earning a glare from Thomas.

"It'd be nice if you take yourself a woman, eh?" John teased his brother, getting him a smack in the back of his head by Thomas which made me chuckle.

"Well, I heard you own the Garrison now, Arthur!" I interjected, walking over to join them.

"Been eavesdropping, eh, love?" Arthur said with a toothy grin, causing me to blush in embarrassment. When I tried to explain myself, he waved a hand in the air, assuring me it was alright, and mentioned that they would be celebrating at the Garrison. He then began pulling John along with him, leaving me alone with Thomas.

"I heard you tried to shoot Ada's husband. Did you apologize?" I asked, concerned.

"He's not dead."

"Did you apologize?" I repeated, but was only met with silence, I let out a sigh.

"Well, you should. If you're going on a date, you need to show respect to your sister before other women—"

"It's just business."

"Even so, Thomas. When's the date?" I inquired.

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, as I continued referring to his "business" as a date.

"Tomorrow"

"Since you guys will be busy, I'll go out and find a library. Maybe they'll have something that can help me go back. I'll finish my work today and even do some extra to make up for it," I declared, informing him, knowing he won't stop me. When he only nodded, I took that as my cue to leave. Going inside the betting shop to officially start the day.

///

When tomorrow finally came, I went down to find out the boys have left already. I didn't see where Polly was but Finn was in the kitchen, he threw something in the fireplace.

I walked over to him, my curiosity peaked. "Hey, what was that, hm?" When I crouched down, it was a cigarette.

"Finn?" I held it out, wanting him to explain but were just met with a guilty look. I was aware enough that children from these times smoke and drank alcohol, Finn himself wouldn't be an exception, it shouldn't have had surprised me, especially since Thomas and the others smoked quite often.

"You're still young"

"I'd turn 11 soon,"

"Well, you're still 10. Do it when you're old enough to make decisions for yourself, I've got to go somewhere, but no more of this, okay?" He nodded, which made me smile, patting his head.

"Good, if Pol asks where I am, I'm off to the library"

To my surprised, when I left there was a Peaky Boy by the door, when he approached me, he said that Thomas asked him to escort me to the library since it was far away.

///

"Seriously? Still nothing?"

It has been hours and I still haven't found anything concerning time travel. Though this was expected, it still quite annoyed me. I felt hopeless, feeling tears start to make their way to fall down my cheeks.

"Ma'am, shall I take you home? Its getting quite dark." The Peaky Boy said which stopped my train of thoughts. Quickly wiping my eyes, I looked up at him and forced a smile.

"Yeah, sure." After finishing up, we began to walk our way towards town, it was quite silent so I tried to make conversation with the guy.

"So, what's your name?"

"Charles, Ma'am." I nodded in acknowledgment by his answer, chuckling a bit.

"You don't have to be so stiff, call me (Y/N)," he smiled at that and after we continued to walk with comfortable silence around us, letting me forget my frustration for a moment.

"Thanks for escorting me, by the way"

I bid him goodbye before walking inside the house. Once inside, no one was there, guess everyone's out. I went to Thomas' room, which can be considered mine for the time being.

Feeling a sense of boredom, I picked up a sketchbook and some pencils that Arthur had given me. The pages were already filled with a few sketches done by both me and him. Reflecting on the events of the day, I attempted to draw my brother, trying my best to capture his face. I couldn't help but worry that if I stayed here any longer, I would forget—forget my friends, my family, and the cherished memories we shared. It dawned on me that while I'm here they're probably looking for me.

Deciding to create a comic strip depicting my memories and descriptions of my family, I couldn't help but tear up a little. I had already forgotten my mother and brother's voice.

"Ma, miss kona kayo ni kuya... Mama..."

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and I quickly composed myself before inviting the visitor in. It was Polly.

"Pol..."

"The boys are at the Garrison, celebrating. I came to pick you up. Are you alright, love?"

I smiled and nodded. "I'm alright, Pol. It's nothing, just a bit of homesickness. I'll stay here for the night. Do tell them I said congratulations." She nodded, relieved that she didn't pry any further, and left, bidding me goodnight.

///

Unable to sleep that night, I found some peace in my drawings. I kept a candle by my bedside to provide light, sitting with my knees drawn close to my chest and my back against the wall, facing the door with the notebook resting on my thigh.

After a while, I could hear the sound of people talking downstairs. It seemed like Arthur had indulged in a few drinks as he kept yelling, something about a man called Kimber. When the commotion subsided, there was another knock on my door, followed by Thomas' voice asking if I was still awake. I replied affirmatively, and he took it as his cue to enter. Closing the door behind him, he remained silent, prompting me to break the silence.

"So, how was the date? Did it go well?"

"I told you, it's business, eh?" he chuckled, walking over to sit beside me.

"What brings you here?"

"It's my room."

"Fair enough. But why are you here?" I asked. However, instead of responding directly, he asked a question of his own.

"How did your visit to the library go?" I sighed, playing with my hands as I slumped my shoulders.

"Terrible. I feel like I'm trapped here forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be with you all, but I had a life back there, you know? If I stay here any longer, I'm afraid... i just miss my mother, brother, and my friends."

"You have a brother?" he asked, glancing back at me. I nodded, slightly distracted by his question.

"Yeah, he's annoying but caring. We used to play games together."

"Oh, really? What kind?" he inquired. I smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder.

"Are you just trying to distract me?" I teased. He shrugged, pursing his lips in an attempt to suppress a smile, though I could see it in his eyes.

We continued our conversation, and somehow, before we knew it, we found ourselves lying in bed, facing each other. I kept talking, and he listened.

"Are you sure I'm not bleeding your ears?" I asked, squinting my eyes at him.

He shook his head and encouraged me to keep talking by gesturing to the side.

"Where was I again?" I questioned, testing if he was genuinely paying attention.

"You were talking about your dog named 'Dog,'" he replied.

"Ah, right."

As I was drifting off to sleep, I noticed him getting up, trying not to disturb me.

"Hey, Thomas..."

"Hm?"

"If I met you in my time, siguro nahulog nako sayo"

///

Those were the words that left (Y/N)'s lips. Thomas, though not fully understanding the context, couldn't help but smile nonetheless. He bid her goodnight before leaving to sleep downstairs.

Only he knew the true reason why he had sought her out after returning from the Garrison. Somehow, being with her made him feel like his former self, the boy he was before the war. She brought a genuine warmth to his life, treated him like a normal person and not something broken, not someone without a heart, and not someone that killed so many in the name of war. When she looked at him, he feels like she sees the boy he was, coaxing him to come out little by little, and that comforted him because she sees him, sees someone he thought he can never be again. What began as fascination had blossomed into something deeper. He yearned to know more about her, to delve into the stories and memories she shared. Her voice brought him a sense of comfort. In his own way he wanted her to feel heard, wanted her to know he was there, with her, with everything she will do while she's here.

But deep down, he knew she didn't belong here, and that she would eventually have to leave. So, as much as he wanted to make her stay as memorable as possible, if he could be selfish with her, he hoped against hope that she would choose to stay.