#she used a walker and no one had an accessible home and it was even difficult for her getting around the fairly good hospice she was in

[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Slave Of Duty: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You're pulled away for a case in the middle of Haley's funeral. Spencer is still mad at you that you didn't let him see you while in prison, but how can you explain to him that whenever you look into a mirror, you hate the person you see? You're far from being okay and Spencer is the kind of comfort you're desperately looking for.

Season Five Masterlist

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You two walk back into the office and join JJ's side who is talking to Penelope over video chat. You assume Spencer brought everyone up to speed on what you found.

"Find anything?" you ask.

"Several people had access to each home. Housekeeper, gardener, pool cleaner, and dog walker. Each of them had their own key and an alibi to match." 

"Any cross-over?"

"None. We even vetted delivery people and utility workers."

"Garcia, do you have anything?" Rossi asks.

"There are no hits on the prints at all, but I did what Sir Derek asked and I created a paper trail. There's no cross-over between the two victims themselves in the wee hours leading up to their murder, but they did run in similar circles."

"Like what?"

"They both have country club memberships but to different clubs, they went to upscale restaurants, private concert venues, and posh hotels. They enjoyed a high-class, highfalutin lifestyle which isn't cheap."

"A lifestyle he's fit right into," Emily says. You look behind you to see her and Derek in the room. "This guy is educated, intelligent, and proper. He's a downright gentleman."

"The rose petals sent a pretty specific message. He's romancing them whether they want it or not. He's got the social skills to back it up. Hey, Garcia, take a look at dating services and social networking sites. Look for working professionals and the privileged elite," Derek says.

"Check, check, and checkers. Back in a smidge," she says and hangs up.

"Have we figured out how he's getting into these homes?"

"There are no signs of forced entry anywhere. Yet he's still gaining access to their homes before the victims ever get home from work. I mean, this guy needs time to cook and set up his scene. He's either got a key or he can move through walls."

"We need fresh eyes," Rossi sighs.

"Alright, I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

"We're giving up?" Emily gasps.

"No, we're taking a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll, and none of us has slept since the funeral. Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. Till then, there's really not a lot we can do."

You don't tell anyone that you're scared to go to sleep. As soon as you open your big mouth, people are going to look at you differently. You don't want that. You never wanted them to treat you differently. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and head back to the hotel with the rest of the team.

You and Spencer are in one room like always but tension is high. You can cut the air with a knife. You're in the bathroom getting ready for bed while Spencer is getting into it. You're not sure when he is going to be okay with what you did to him but you have to give him time like Rossi said. Spencer keeps one of the lamps on for you while his lamp is off.

He doesn't know that your entire world is crumbling. You're sitting on the floor with your back against the door and tears streaming down your face. Your hand is over your mouth to muffle any kind of noise you might give out. Spencer has no clue how much pain you're in but the last thing you want to do is tell him. When he hurts, you hurt and you don't think you can hurt more.

You're terrified to go to sleep. If you close your eyes, you might wake up back in that cell surrounded by women who burden you with their feelings. How can you ever tell the man you love that you don't feel safe at home anymore? For the next thirty minutes, you try to calm down enough to get into bed without alerting Spencer.

You do but you don't fall asleep until the clock strikes two.

Due to only getting four hours of sleep, you're exhausted by the time you walk into the police station. Spencer left before you did which is a good thing because you cried the entire time you were in the shower. You must have dark circles under your eyes and pale skin because Spencer does a double-take when he looks at you. Despite how he feels right now, he still loves and cares for you.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"Fine."

Spencer leaves it a that but JJ notices something between you two. She bites the end of her straw in thought but you don't pay attention to her. Derek and Emily are the last ones in and Derek notices you by the coffee machine. You're staring at it as if it's holding the secrets of the universe. You're checked out so he puts his hand on your shoulder which brings you out of your trance.

"Hey. Coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so. You just got out of prison. That couldn't have been fun."

You turn to Derek and take his hand while trying to hide your desperation. "Derek, I am fine. I am going to be fine. I will continue to be fine." You're not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself. "Please believe me."

"Okay. You know I worry about you."

"You have nothing to worry about."

"Then let's start the profile."

He and the team gather Landon and his offices so that they can deliver the profile. You're still by the coffee machine repeating those three sentences in your head over and over again. I am fine. I am going to be fine. I will continue to be fine. With coffee in hand, you walk over to the team. You're not sure you can do your best so you decide to stay silent and let them handle this one.

You catch your reflection in one of the windows near you and pause. Who the hell is that staring back at you? You used to be so full of life and hope. Now, it's just an empty shell. Your spirit was stolen from you in prison and you're not sure if you can find it again.

"We believe our unsub is already with his next victim," Rossi begins. "If he matches the pattern, she'll be a successful woman, probably brunette and in her early thirties to mid-forties. She'll be at home in Nashville's upper echelon."

"This means that he fits in. He drives the right car, he wears the right clothes, he's highly intelligent, and he probably comes from a place of status. This guy's sociable and endearing. You would never suspect that this man is capable of murder, but he will do whatever it takes to protect the fantasy that he's trying to relive."

"It's this fantasy that fuels his drive. He's recreating a romantic evening and repeating it with each of his victims. He most likely had a relationship taken away from him recently, so look at men who have lost loved ones or have gone through a messy divorce."

"Much like Bundy, these women are representations of that first loss. Bundy picked victims who had similar features to the woman who abandoned him. We believe that our unsub is doing the same thing," Spencer explains. "These women were confident, successful, and strong. They fought back which means he has the ability to overpower them fairly easily. He believes or fantasizes he's in a relationship with these women. No matter how fleeting the initial interaction is, it's everything to him like an invitation."

"Our technical analyst has compiled a list of locations that the victims visited prior to their death. These are high-class establishments. We're going to want to visit the same places. Look for men who fit the profile but also women who match victimology. If somebody's been paying a little too much attention to them, talk to them. Get a read, then jot their name down so that we can check them out," Derek finishes.

"Alright, folks, pick up your canvassing assignments and get to work," Landon addresses.

"Thank you."

It's not long until another woman is murdered. You knew it was coming but you didn't know how soon it would be here. This murder is different because the unsub killed two people, and one of them was a man. It's not in the MO of the unsub to do that so you can only assume the male victim caught the unsub by surprise.

"The house belongs to Erika Silverman who is a project director in an international design firm. We're assuming the male victim is her boyfriend, Grant Franklin. They're both pretty beat up. We'll need dental records for a positive ID," Landon says when you get there.

"Who called it in?" Emily asks.

"UPS guy. He needed her signature for a package and saw the door wide open. He's out back right now.'

"JJ, talk to him," Derek says and she leaves.

"Where is Erika's body?"

"Follow me." Landon takes you to Erika's body which is a brutal sight. "He changed his MO. She has multiple stab wounds to the face and neck, and there is evidence that she had sex before she died."

"Classic overkill," Rossi comments.

"Forced or consensual?"

"There is no evidence of sexual assault."

"She played along. She had sex with the unsub because she thought it would keep her alive," Emily sighs.

"Why didn't it? This kill is clearly personal and angry. She didn't give him everything that he wanted."

"What else did he want?"

"Y/N? See anything?

You turn to face the front of the house to get a better look at what happened the night before. Erika is already in here with the unsub but the front door opens and Erika's boyfriend enters. The unsub is angry that his plans are ruined which explains the overkill on both of them. Both Grant and the unsub begin fighting but something is wrong here. Grant begins running from the unsub and turns to see if he is chasing him, but you're staring at yourself being chased by the unsub, not Grant.

What the hell is going on here? You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. The fear you have is manifesting in your visions. How can you help this team if you can't help yourself? No one knows what's really going on, and how can you tell them now? How can you come clean that you're not ready to be back at work? You thought you could just put it behind you like you've done every other time.

How can you ever move on from a place like that?

"Excuse me. I'm sorry," you whisper and leave the house.

Emily, Derek, and Rossi look at each other with concern written across their faces. You walk to the end of the driveway where the street is and take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You close your eyes and count to ten in hopes that when you open them, your panic attack will have subsided.

However, when you open your eyes, you're brought back to your past. One that you've been trying so hard to escape from. The street is empty save for a few cars parked on the side. The house you were just in doesn't look like Erika's house. It looks like a random house on this random street in a city that's all too familiar to you.

There is a car that's parked that you'd recognize even with your eyes closed. It's a van that can be used as a camper since the back seats have been taken out. There are curtains inside the car that are drawn closed to prevent people from looking inside. The car rocks to show that there is a struggle inside and a little girl's scream can be heard.

A desperate scream for help. Anyone. Your scream.

You've only thought about this moment every day since it happened. You haven't forgotten one detail of it.

Your breathing picks up as you look for anyone who can come help you. You're being assaulted and there is nothing you can do about it. The man was too strong... too powerful. Something moves out of the corner of your eyes and you turn to see a person walking down the sidewalk. You grab her shoulders when she nears you and shake her desperately.

"Help her. She needs your help. Aren't you going to help?"

"Y/N?"

You're brought back to reality by your friend's name and gone is the van you think about every day. Emily stands in front of you with a worried look on her face, and you let go of her shoulders.

"Sorry," you whisper and wipe the tears from your face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're crying."

"I said I'm fine, Emily. Excuse me."

You leave your friend behind and join everyone else who is still inside the house. Derek and Spencer are in the kitchen so you decide to see what's up with him instead of looking at Erika's body and reliving her torment.

"The dinner dishes are washed, but the breakfast plates aren't. He didn't clean up this time. The boyfriend must have surprised him and disrupted his routine."

"I don't know, I'd say he came pretty close to finishing it. It looks like they watched a movie and had an early breakfast. She was with him all night," Spencer theorizes.

Your phone rings and you almost jump out of your skin from the noise. You look to see Penelope's name so you force your feelings down and answer her call.

"Hey, Pen."

"Bad news, buttercup. There is no payoff on the social networking sites, and Erika does not leave a breadcrumb-like trail. Aside from a couple of online purchases and some automatic debits, she hasn't used her credit card all week."

"Thanks." You hang up and look at Derek. "Garcia didn't find anything about Erika's whereabouts over the past week. No stores, no restaurants, nothing."

"There might be another way to figure out where she's been. Do we know where any of the victims' cars are?" Spencer asks.

"Impound, probably."

"We need access to all four of them."

"Four?"

"We should also get Grant's car. He may have driven Erika somewhere where she met the unsub."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lightofraye]

So. This is for an anon ask I did not get, by the way. It was sent to me by a follower who was pissed at the Gen-hate that was wildly incorrect.

I volunteered. (I have anon ask off today because it's a freakin' holiday. Get over yourselves, folks. I'm free to turn it on and off as I please.) Especially because of the Danneel stuff that had me rolling with laughter.

So.

Shall we?

Anon wrote: When Jared has his breakdown, Gen didn't even visit him. She just went to the airport and brought Danneel with her, probably airing his dirty laundry to her on the way there. Gen is so fake. She uploads him for views and brand campaigns for her insta

Uhhh.... no. The first part alone is wrong. Jared flew straight home when it happened and Gen wasn't even with Danneel. As for Gen uploading Jared in videos and brand campaigns--you realize he could and probably has said no in the past? He could say "Nah, babe, I'm not in for it." And Gen would probably be okay with that!

Anon wrote: Her and Danneel would be wasted most of the time on their insta lives. They stay at home and do nothing but use their husbands money. Gen is way worse than Danneel.

Actually... no. Danneel stays at home. Gen at least does her thing with TOWWN, their farm, was on Walker a bit, travels a lot, goes to cons.

Now for the rest of anon's nonsense.

Anon wrote: and you guys say Danneel is a user. Danneel doesn't even post anymore 😂

Danneel is a user! She's had multiple failed campaigns with a number of companies. Her jewelry line? Failed. Her modeling? Failed. Her multiple attempts to try acting has also failed. She couldn't even get onto Supernatural without using Jensen! At least Genevieve got on by honest work!

(BTW, for all the anti-Gens out there? Genevieve also got onto Walker by way of honest work, not because of Jared!)

So what does Danneel have? Just the kids she has with Jensen that she undoubtedly uses to keep Jensen in line and have access to his money!

Anon wrote: At least Danneel changed her ways

And you based that on... what? Her lack of Instagram posts this past year? Sure... sure. She hasn't posted, but that doesn't mean she changed her ways. If you see her scant few outings, she's still as lazy and incompetent as ever. When Hilarie asked her to do a book campaign, Danneel didn't even read the freakin' book! And her marketing failed. Hilarie didn't even have a crowd.

And then there was that ridiculous One Tree Hill Charity Prom. Danneel was awful as always, conceited, and almost slipped in her so-called thank you speech when she was made prom queen when she mentioned "I wouldn't be here without my rich husband".

So yeah.

Gen does honest work. She comes from money. If she and Jared were to divorce tomorrow, Gen would be fine. Danneel however? Would not be.

GTFO with your Gen hate. Come back when you have something legitimate.

[valiant-if]

hold up, imma rant about my job for a minute

So, for context, I am a self-employed pet sitter/dog walker—meaning I'm not signed up through any websites like Rover and operate on an individual basis.

Now, this client that I'm about to do a job for, I've been acquainted with her for roughly three years and have done some dog walks for her in the past. Additionally, she was only introduced to me because I walked dogs for her neighbors (whom referred her to me) for five years.

As of last week, we met to discuss expectations and anything else I would need to know or do around her house and she gave me her key. Then, yesterday, two days before her trip, she sent me a text (that came across as very tonally rude, by the way) basically requesting a digital copy of my driver's license because "it occurred to [her] that she doesn't know my last name or anything about [me]."

Now, because I'm not vetted by a website like Rover, I can completely understand a client being a little nervous about working with someone who is more or less a stranger. That said, she has the very strong reference of someone that I've been working with for 5+ years, and I could easily have provided her other references if she had come to me with this question weeks before her trip instead of days.

She also had the option to hire someone off of Rover or a similar website if she wanted the security of hiring someone with a verified background check. The only caveat there is that she'd probably be spending more money.

But I need the money and also am not a total raging asshole expecting her to find a pet sitter at the last second, so I compromised with her, telling her that sending a driver's license digitally would open me up to the potential of fraud in the future, so I would only send her a picture of it if certain information was blocked off. She agreed—but I was ready to cancel with her on the spot if she didn't.

Now, though, I have expressed to her that I use the internet to access resources for my writing work, and she is refusing to give me access to her network because she is worried I might "infect [her] network with malware," which, by the way, is not even what that means or how that works. So not only is she completely ignorant on what she's talking about, but she is showing clear signs that she does not trust me in her home with her pets.

So the great question here is, why even fucking hire me at all? She has another lady, a family friend of hers—that she has hired in the past, who is super sweet by the way, I've actually met her—who seems like she'd be a better choice since they actually know her. The only reasons I can think of why she would decide to switch to hiring me instead of that lady are, 1.) she liked what she heard from her neighbors, 2.) the lady she normally has watch her dogs is older and cannot walk them every day, or 3.) I'm a more cost-effective option. If it's that last one, well, beggars can't be choosers when you're literally trying to skim your costs by hiring your cheapest option.

And the part of this that is difficult to replicate is the tone in which these exchanges are being made. She's treating me like she thinks I am a teenager (which, by the way, teenage employees should not be treated like this either) instead of someone in their 30s.

I've never had problems with her in the past, and it's not that I think she's trying to be shifty, I think she's just ignorant and inconsiderate. And if I find out she has cameras hidden around her house, that's gonna be a huge deal breaker and she's gonna have to find someone on the spot to watch those dogs, because I will not be staying there if that is the case.

I have never before had a client request a copy of my driver's license despite the fact that I work on an individual basis—largely because all of them were referred to me by someone those clients trusted, so they decided to trust me in turn. Ultimately, though, the fact that she doesn't trust me isn't really the crux of the issue. The crux is that she should have hired someone else if she was having reservations about me.

Long story long, regardless of how this gig goes, I will be dropping her as a client and blocking her once it's over. The toxic way she's treating me is not worth any amount of money that she could pay me. Also, in general, she's just been completely unprofessional.

so anyway, rant done

[lit-works]

Pt 1.

--This fanfiction is a part of my 'Decades of Marvels' one-shot series that celebrates an era near and dear to me. This story is a love letter. First and foremost, to fellow comic book aficionado, artist extraordinarre, and fanboy Kevin Smith who wrote/started/directed the movie that shares this stories title. It is also an homage to nostalgia, and the most nostalgic generation so far. I shamelessly name-drop as many pop culture refs from the 90s as I can, including the OG MCU (90s X-Men, Spider-Man & Friends, The Fantastic Four animated series).

-

"Hey, Shogo, how was school today?" Jubilation Lee asked her adopted son as he entered their home on the island of Krakoa.

"lame! Mr.Summers is teaching stupid Quadratic Equations. But, it got me thinking about when he used to be your teacher." Shogo whined as he kicked off his shoes and sat heavily on the living room couch.

"Old Cyclops' mutant math, I remember the concept. He tried to teach me trigonometry." Jubilation recalled as she sat next to her son.

"Seriously? That's crazy. Anyways, do you remember the Danger Room's Shopping Mall Simulation?"

"Ah, the infamous Danger Mall -where Sentinel sales were always booming. No, I do not remember that one. Is that the exercise they had you running today?" Jubilation joked before becoming seriously curious.

"well, yeah, and I started wondering The X-Men had a place to hit up like that to buy stuff before people started ordering on Amazon. Like, was there ever just merchandise instead of a battle looming over the horizon?"

"You bet we did!! There was this one time, a peaceful day off, before I was a full-time X-Person, and I decided to check out a mall. But, you know your mom, trouble has it's way of finding me...even in the food court."

"wait, what's a food court?"

"Ermahgawd, you poor uncultured swine, so...

-

Once a mecca of American commerce, a gathering place for adolescent youth, and a nice place for an indoor stroll, the mall no longer holds the same place in our daily lives as it did in the summers of the '90s. In the heyday of the indoor shopping mall, one could buy a ham, watch a movie, haggle for a Gucci purse and cap off the day with a round of ice skating. Store fronts were elaborately decorated to look like barns and castles.

Malls across America were filled with seemingly lost or harried, or both, families navigating their way through these temples of consumerism, a long with playful teens in Jnco Jeans and South Park shirts, pink misfits and scene kids lighting up indoors, and the aged mall-walkers.

Families spent a large part of their miserable lives at shopping malls. For generations of Americans, there was no better way to pass time than to completely encapsulate themselves in retail outlets. Wrapped tightly in their warm blanket of commerce, they would loiter aimlessly for hours, often not spending a dime.

There was no greater monument to American capitalism in the latter half of the 20th Century than the mall. The history of the shopping mall can be traced back to the Roman Empire, where teenagers of the day surely milled about in their equivalent of Hot Topic and Spencer's gifts.

The first American shopping mall was built in 1826 in Providence, Rhode Island. Considering the coolest thing to do as a member of previous generation American teenagers was to fight in the wars of 1812, this was an absolute godsend.

The next great thing to happen to America's future adults was the advent of the automobile. The car shook up a number of things, including shopping malls. Shopping mall locations shifted from downtown areas to decentralized suburban spaces that were now accessible to the driving population.

Over a period of a half a century starting in the mid-50's, a staggering 1,500 shopping malls opened in the United States. Countless other mini-malls and strip-malls came into existence during this period as well.

The basic makeup of the new suburban shopping centers followed a very set pattern. Large chain department stores would serve as "anchors", familiar places that would drive traffic to the mall and thus the smaller stores located within the tile strewn floors. Anchors quickly became the key to a Mall's success.

The mall evolved into more than just a shopping center, adding other features than just retail outlets. The American populace could now take a trip to the mall and enjoy movie theaters, restaurants, and by the 80s, the newly ubiquitous video game arcade. By this time, the shopping mall had firmly become an entrenched part of American culture.

For decades, shopping malls appeared as the financial rocks. Individual stores would come and go, but the vacancy rates would always stay low.

And then something magical happened, the malls that teenage girls and soccer moms across the country could only dream of : the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota!

Since opening it's doors in 1992, Mall of America revolutionized the shopping experience of tens of millions of visitors a year. A leader in retail, entertainment and attraction, Mall of America became one of the top tourist destinations in the country and is known around the world.

Back in 1982, the Minnesota Twins and Vikings relocated from the Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington to the HHH Metrodome in downtown Minneapolis. This created an unprecedented development opportunity for 78 acres of prime real estate. Three years later, the Bloomington Port Authority purchased the stadium site and began entertaining proposals for development. Mall of America was chosen from four proposals, and on June 14th, 1989, developers ans local dignitaries broke ground. On August 11th, 1992, when Mall of America opened it's doors, 330 stores opened for business and more than 10,000 employees started their first day of work.

Mall of America now hosts more than 400 events annually, ranging from concerts, to celebrity appearances and fashion shows. Each year 40 million people from around the world visit the Malls generating nearly $2 billion each year in economic impact for the state.

-

Word had gone out! A once in a lifetime concert being held at the Mall of America in Minnesota: the interstellar pop sensation Lila Cheney was teaming up with America's disco diva Allison Blaire, The Dazzler! The power pair had embraced the grunge movement and would be singing as a duet with a newly formed band called The Resistance in a one-night-only event in the concert Hall of the mall...

[walker-extended-universe]

Season 4 Wishes- Plots

My wishes for this one are very basic and I know they'll be covered but I still want to talk about it.

The season 3 finale left us with a very intense cliffhanger with 3 mysteries:

Who is the Jackal and why are they back?

Who broke into Geri's house and what are they looking for?

Are these things connected and, if so, how?

Given the shortened runtime of season 4, I'm willing to bet that it's very likely these events are connected. Perhaps the Jackal is more than just a serial killer or maybe it's a cover up for something even more sinister. All I really want out of this is a satisfying answer and I'm putting cautious faith in the writer's room to provide it (don't pull a missing Davidson baby on this one -_-).

But I do think there's one more potential mystery that I would love to see tied into it:

How does this all relate to Sadie?

Sadie was a late arrival in season 3 and she brought a lot of questions with her. She also brought the introduction of a character named Witt, who is likely involved with whoever was behind breaking into Geri's house. This begs the question: why is Sadie involved with him? And how deep does it go?

I don't know what answer we'll actually get out of it but I'd like to posit my own theory (credit to @theladywyn for helping me speculate it):

Following her mother's death, Sadie was left with a lot of bills to pay. She would've had to pay for the funeral at least, take over any payments that needed to be made for living expenses, and possibly medical bills depending on how Melissa died. If we take her song in 3x16 seriously, it's possible the payments she was expected to make were so high that she lost her home and then some. Given that she can't be much older than 19, it's a lot to suddenly have thrust on her shoulders.

I think it's very possible that, in desperation, she turned to some not-so-great people that had the means to get her out of her financial hole. Now, she just has to pay them back, hence the suspicious figure we saw in the crowd in 3x16. It's also very possible that, if she can't pay them back with money, they want her to pay them with favors. For example, information and access to the Walker family and those around them, like Geri. Whether or not she personally wants to do these things is another point but it's possible that they manipulated her with the Walkers' connection to Hoyt's death or that she's just under that much pressure to perform.

I'm really hoping they go with something similar to this instead of just making her an antagonist.

[caw-rky]

Full shuffled pillars ! :DD Here are their adapted stories (version in a nutshell) :

-Starswirl, alicorn of magic : first unicorn to ever reach alicorn-hood by his own means and teacher of Celestia and Luna. He became an alicorn before there was one government for all of ponykind, the fusion was done by the sisters after he disapeared. He is the one who created the first few models of magic and multiple spells. Some call him the "father of modern magic"

-Flash Magnus, earth pony soldier : the town he was situated in got attacked by a dragon, pegasi soldiers came since they are better abilited to fight a flying ennemy. They got beaten but before they could get burned to a crisp, Flash grabbed one of their shield and threw himself before the blaze, stopping it and managed to beat the dragon by climbing on it.

-Mistmane, pegasus : In this version, her friend is younger and became deadly sick during her absence. Her parents, to try and keep her alive as long as they could, locked her in the palace and she began asking for all the beautiful things, to feel as if she had been able to travel, explore and discover. Feeling isolated due to Mistmane being gone, the villagers being overworked and her parents not accepting that she wants to see the world, even if it makes her life even shorter. Finally, she snaps at them when Mistmane comes back and sacrifice a big part of her health for her (against her friend will, who also snaps at Mistmane, not having wanted her friend to suffer for her, but nothing could take it back), making her realize that no-object could make the disapointment of staying between the same walls disapear. And that she only felt hurt for the hurt caused to others to try and make her happy. Mistmane is a master of weathers and winds, able to make powerful puppet-cloud that she can use to attack. She is very weakened by her condition and needs regular rest-period.

-Rockhoof, unicorn : despite the stereotype on his race, he isn't a scholar and doesn't have natural talent in magic nor strong magic. Tried and tried to conform but it wasn't him. Realized he loved physical labor and was kind of shunned for it, so he shunned his own magic, when his town got in danger from the volcano, he (like in fim) began his trench, while digging, he realized his magic could help him and to amazement, when he accepted that he wasn't a failed unicorn for preferring physical labor nor a failed earth pony for having magic, it happened like fim and he saved his home. He began then working with the mighty helm despite them originally being earth pony only, due to unicorn army working only with their magic.

-Somnambula, unicorn : very close to fim until her magic was stopped by horn ring for the crossing of the bridge. She again crossed it by not losing hope or panicking. But the end wasn't quite as sweet and easy because, when she took the blindfold off and saved the prince, the sphinx decided to get one last hit before flying away and blinded her with a hit of claws in the eyes. She is also a dream-walker (like Luna, she can walk in dream. Though, contrary to her, she can only access dreams of people she touch and can't manipulate them, she has to make the dreamer manipulate their own dream).

-Meadowbrook, bat-pony : the exact same as fim, except she isn't an earth pony but a bat-pony. Bat-ponies generally lives in forest in my au due to not being as good flyiers as regular pegasus. They also have a better night-vision but are more easily blinded by bright light. I will at a moment make something to talk about the different pony kind in the au

-Stygian, earth pony : I can't tell much since it would spoil if I write precisely the au x'DD So, I will just say he is a shadow-infused earth pony. Where earth pony are normally infused with the magic of the earth (which give them their enhanced strenght and ability to grow crops more easily), he is infused with the shadows. It is a forbidden process done during pregnancy that is complete at birth. If Stygian had a child, except if he had them with another shadow-infused earth pony, the child would be either a regular earth pony or of the other parent race. Being infused with the 'wrong' magic has multiple consequences, notably being far smaller and weaker than normal, a weakened immune system, special culinary needs, ... It also allow access to the magic in question, more precision if/when I will do a post on them specificaly. Starswirl was aware of what Stygian was from the moment he saw him. Stygian isn't aware before being in current Equestria.

[bengiyo]

Sleep With Me Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week Sleep With Me delivered absolutely fantastic communication between Harry and Luna. I was again reminded of my deep affection for my lesbian sisters, and am so hype for more GL if some of what's being released is an indication of what's to come. The first intimate scene for these two will forever be a highlight, and I would love to hear some commentary from wheelchair users about how they felt about it.

Ah, we're going to see Harry grapple with accessibility in an office environment today.

I like that the wheelchair hazard of people backing up in their chairs is show to be an obstacle for walkers as well. There are also some obvious fixes available right away, which hammers home the point rather clearly. Well done.

This is such an upsetting interview. Why even offer the interview if you don't want to hire someone with accessibility concerns?

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but this show is gorgeous, and uses really simple but reliable shots.

Harry and Kai have a great sibling relationship. I do like when my romantic dramas don't make the siblings an obstacle.

I also continue to love the music choices in productions from the Philippines.

Aw, I was excited for this date and now something has definitely gone wrong. Hopefully Harry didn't get hurt in the rain.

This is a difficult dinner, but I'm so glad Luna can communicate her frustrations, and that Harry is capable of discussing them.

I don't think I had considered how difficult a relationship would be for Luna with a partner that gets sleepy at night. I'm glad the show is tackling that.

I don't know that Kai is wrong here, and the broken plant is going to crush Luna.

We're in the dramatic portion of a romantic arc where they have to consider if they can actually work, and this one is doing an incredible job of making that believable.

Oh, my heart is breaking for these two. Their both stunted professionally by ableist perceptions of their capabilities, and Luna feels like she can't be present for Harry.

[themculibrary]

Canon LGBTQ+ Characters

A New Reality (ao3) - kickcows loki/mobius E, 39k

Summary: Loki finds himself stuck in a new branch of reality, and seeks guidance from the one person he knows will help him - Mobius.

Destroy You As I Am (ao3) - Pandorica loki/sylvie E, 71k

Summary: Sylvie is on a mission to destroy the man who killed her family - notorious sex club owner Nathaniel Richards. When a mysterious stranger, Loki, helps her get access to Richards' inner circle, their lives become intimately entangled in a confusion of dominance, submission, sex, exhibitionism,  and espionage. But can she trust him to help her take everything she's ever wanted? Or is he out for his own game entirely?

first love/late spring (ao3) - leonsknees loki/mobius T, 5k

Summary: “I don’t care about Mobius,” Loki growls bitterly, and staggers to his feet. “Would you knock it off? I knew it was going to make everything worse having you here.”

Sylvie just smiles knowingly, and shakes her head. “He cares about you.”

Loki curls his hands into fists, and raises his chin in defiance. “Perhaps, but I don’t care about him. Some predicament, huh?”

Fumblings (ao3) - Griselda_Gimpel phastos/ben M, 689

Summary: Phastos and Ben's first time, complicated by the Phastos' alien god biology.

funny you’re the broken one (ao3) - thorbiased T, 4k

Summary: “Judging by the numbers on the lime-green digital clock on the stove, it’s three am when Thor wakes up on Brunnhilde’s kitchen floor.”

Thor patches things up with Valkyrie.

Heart of Iron & Steel (ao3) - risingoftime shuri/riri E, 1k

Summary: Shuri wanted to learn Riri’s anatomy, studying and caressing her most delicate features. Listening to her moans and cries like a melody almost drove them to sweet insanity.

Jealously in the Making (ao3) - tummytrouble loki/mobius/sylvie N/R, 6k

Summary: Mobius loves Loki, and so does Sylvie. But Loki has more than enough love to go around. After tender love making, it sparks a rivalry between the pair, but Loki is determined to show that he doesn't pick favorites.

Missing you is like missing a part of myself (ao3) - Mimisempai phastos/ben G, 1k

Summary: As Ben receives a message from Phastos announcing his return, he thinks about how much he had missed Phastos.

our way, no takebacks (ao3) - dinosuns loki/mobius T, 20k

Summary: Destiny is a deception and fate is a fiction. They're doing this their way.

The Nature of Phastos (ao3) - Griselda_Gimpel phastos/ben T, 544

Summary: Even before Ben learned the truth, he knew his husband Phastos wasn't ordinary.

The Scientist (ao3) - vampirefreakism pepper/tony, loki/ofc T, 359k

Summary: In the events following Asgard's destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

Torn Down, Full of Aching (ao3) - Webtrinsic T, 1k

Summary: America is under the impression Stephen cares about her because he has to, not because he wants to. She couldn't be anymore wrong.

To Touch Her Again (ao3) - incogniteau valkyrie/natasha T, 756

Summary: After getting caught up in Ultron’s invasion and unsure what is happening elsewhere in the US and the world, Natasha is reunited with her love, Brunnhilde, her Valkyrie.

we will make a home someday, one full of love and light (ao3) - delphiniumblooms sersi/ikaris, phastos/ben T, 1k

Summary: Sersi and Ikaris pay Phastos’ family a visit.

you’re not broken (ao3) - helloilovefanfiction yelena/kate G, 1k

Summary: Yelena and Kate are kissing, when Kate wants to go farther. Yelena panics and pushes her away, leading to a conversation about asexuality.

Young Gods (ao3) - CloudAtlas kate/america, clint/jessica T, 13k

Summary: WOMEN’S SELF-DEFENCE CLASSES it reads, with HOPE VAN DYNE, TRISH WALKER and AMERICA CHAVEZ.

The start date is next Monday.

[mrminority]

Copper Elm 07/02/23

“Are you sure about this Nya?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You know you don’t have to go in there if you don't want to.”

“I know Mom.”

“Okay, kiddo. I’ll be in the car. Text me when you’re on your way out.”

“I will Mom.”

Once she finally walked away, the dread washed back over me. I stood at the doors of the Copper Elm Nursing Home and I felt the reaper’s presence. It only takes one trip down the halls to wear out someone’s empathy. I feel tired each time I visit, watching people hobble around and slowly wither away.

These people were dying, and it wasn’t just their bodies, but their minds. This place was like a fire station. People would drop off their orphaned kid, turn around and never look back. That’s probably how he feels. They were alone, not even being able to keep themselves company.

I’d hate to die there, which is why I came to Copper Elm in the first place: I didn’t want my dad to die alone.

I checked in at the receptionist's desk and made my way to a small living area with a lone table, a small retro tv that looked more like a box than a television, and a bookshelf with several WWII novels. I pulled out a chair and waited, twiddling my thumbs as that feeling of dread crawled back into my skin.

I don’t know how Dad got this way. I don’t even know how much I knew about him. What I did know was that this could be my last chance to see him again. He's in no shape to travel and I’ll be on a plane to Connecticut for the fall. This is my last chance. No, this is his last chance.

I’m sure everyone is familiar with divorce. I doubt anyone isn’t. You either were a divorced kid or knew a divorced kid. The problem with my family’s divorce is that I didn’t know who the bad guy was. At first, I thought it was my Mom. I remember having to leave the house in a hurry as she threatened to call the police. My sister Nia stayed behind, not wanting to leave her by herself. There are times I wonder what would have happened if I stayed with them instead of him.

For the months after it was as if I were drafted into a war with my father as the general. We were in the fight against tyranny that was my mother trying to reclaim custody or her two daughters, custody I felt she had no right to. She forced us to sell the house. She got a boyfriend that I hated and blamed everything for. I even found her with a cigarette in hand and alcohol to the side.

I want to say Dad made a villain out of her, but the truth was I did. The war finally ended with my father winning custody, but his health had taken a toll. Once again, I don’t know if he didn’t have access to healthcare or refused. He’s a proud man, something I came to learn when my Mom took her supposed enemy to the hospital and brought refuge to her treacherous daughter.

I couldn’t apologize enough for hating her for so long. We’re in the process of healing, but I missed out on so much because I was Dad’s proud little soldier. I still don’t know the full story, but I know that he wasn’t the perfect leader.

I had been waiting for some time now, just twiddling my thumbs like a jackass. I figured he’d keep me waiting. Unlike the other poor folks here, he was still of “able” mind. He’s not dead at least. No. That’d be too easy.

I was about to get up and walk over to his room, breaking his door down and demanding for him to go see his daughter. Just as I stood up, I heard the sound of my dad’s walker slowly making its way through the hall. The forceful thrust of whatever a walker is made of into the carpet floor echoed in my head. It was his Imperial March, and the dread sea turned into a storm.

I sat up straight and fixed my shirt, then, just as quickly, slumped down and untucked it. As he finally rounded the bend, I saw his face for the first time in ages. He didn’t look worse. He didn’t look better either. He looked just as I expected, maybe just as he deserved: old and sad.

He took his time, perhaps deliberately, to sit down. Setting his walker against the wall, he placed one of his hands against it and the other on the table, easing himself into his seat. He lost balance a bit, but I made no move to help him. I just sat and waited.

There was a long moment of silence between us. Both of us were just staring at the floor, unsure of our next move. Dad broke the silence when he, without ever looking up, asked, “Where’s Nia.”

“She’s with Mom,” I said, looking up.

“Figures,” he chuckled, still staring down. It was a painful laugh. Brief but painful. Somehow, I could tell that was the first time he smiled in a long while, and it wasn’t even of joy.

After another long pause, he said, “You never called.”

“Well Dad,” I began. “When you want the fish you don’t cut the line.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means,” I snapped.

That got him to sit up. He looked at me with scorn, scorn so familiar. “Don’t you get smart with me Nya. I didn’t drag myself out of bed for you to have an attitude problem.”

“I could say the same thing, Dad. I didn’t choose to stop talking to you. You did.”

“I stopped calling ‘cause you went on vacation with that fucking cracker Bill.”

“You told me to have fun, and that’s what I did. I didn’t expect you to get upset by that.”

“No, I was upset you went wi-”

“Yeah, I know Dad. I know.”

His look of scorn turned murderous. That face used to scare the shit out of me. That was the “you fucked up face”. There were times when that face was needed. Yet he started to use that more and more and I learned to recognize when his look was for instruction or control. Not this Dad.

“Don’t interrupt me Nya. Don’t disrespect your father!” He spat.

“No, you don’t interrupt me. You don’t disrespect me. You, for the first time in our years as father and daughter, you will listen to me.”

“Nya, I have listened to you,” Dad claimed. “You had everything you ever wanted right? We went to the toy store so much when you were kids that you memorized the route and turned your little heads like signals.”

He allowed himself a brief moment to reminisce. He laughed, though I am not sure what for. “You had it pretty good.”

I nodded. “I did, but that doesn't mean it was perfect.”

“Oh, what? Have I become a problem to you now?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Oh, okay. So I guess all those late nights of proofreading your book reports, talking to your teachers, taking you to UIL, and going to the movies every week were all just problems. Not to mention the expensive shit I bought you. That’s a big problem right there.”

“Of course, those weren’t problems Dad.”

“I know they weren’t problems,” he said. “I did everything a parent should have and now I’m getting shit on.”

“No! You did everything a parent should have. You did what you were supposed to. Aside from, you know, doing what every parent does, you were a great dad. The problem was that you stopped.”

I briefly waited for his response before continuing, reminding myself not to stop. “Ever since your diagnosis you’ve become, I don’t know, just different. Distant.”

“You used to be so happy,” I sighed. “You always cracked the worst jokes.”

“Well, I’m sorry my humor hasn’t been up to snuff Nya. The jokes kinda stop coming when you’re in a goddamn nursing home!”

He grabbed his knees, bending his head down as he rubbed his legs. “I’m in pain. I’ve been in pain for so long.”

“I know. The problem is your pain became infectious. It amplified your worst traits. It made you angry and stubborn. You couldn’t accept that you needed help or that you could be wrong. Anytime I did, it was the silent treatment.”

“Silent treatment?” he asked. “Are you accusing me of ignoring you?”

“I’m saying that’s what you did. That’s what you’re doing!” I said. I could feel tears forming as my anger boiled. I always got very emotional. I used to try my best to hold it in, thinking it would reduce my argument to shambles. Now I'm holding them back because I’m not finished yet.

“I’m leaving Dad, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. As far as we both know, this will be the last time we see each other.”

“So why’d you come then?” he asked. “Clearly you’re displeased with how I mistreated you. So why come back to me, huh?”

I didn’t say anything yet. I was too busy clenching my jaw bracing myself for his next words.

“Is this your last stand?” he asked, eyes wide in mock fear. “Is this where the great hero slays the mad king?” Dad lifted out his arms, beckoning to be struck down. “Go ahead Nya! I’m waiting!”

“I want you to be my Dad again, dammit!” I yelled.

Mock fear quickly turned to surprise and my Dad put his arms down. He turned his head, still stern, but finally listening.

“When Mom told me you weren’t going to call anymore, I cried. I just got back from vacation and now my dad won’t talk to me.” I finally let the tears rush down my face as I continued my declaration. “I wasn’t upset because I felt like I wronged you. I know I didn’t. I was upset that you wronged me.”

I tried to wipe the snot from my nose with my sleeve before it reached my mouth, but that just spread it even more. I hate when that happens. Why does sadness have to taste so depressing? I shook it off and continued. “I was sad because the reality of you dying alone was getting dangerously close to becoming true. I don’t want to lose you. Not when we lost so much time together.”

My dad remained silent. I couldn’t tell what his thoughts were. He wasn’t angry or confrontational. He just sat, lost in something. He wasn’t empty of feeling, but I didn’t know what feeling he was in. We remained there for some time like this, neither of us was sure what to say next.

When my eyes finally dried and my nose clogged, I said to him “Anyway, that was my ‘last stand’. Take care, Dad. You call me.” I hurriedly got up to leave. That may have been the most honest I’ve ever been with my dad, but I was still scared of his possible response. I guess I wanted to ask the question, but wasn’t ready for the answer.

Before I made it too far across the hall, I heard my dad call out, “Nya, wait!” I turned to see him struggling for his walker. I rushed back to help him. He raised a hand to wave me aside, but then decided against it, letting me help him up to his feet.

“I was trying to walk over to you. Save you the trouble.”

“There’s always trouble Dad.”

“Yeah, there sure is,” he replied, hugging me close. I was caught off guard before I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. We stood there for a while. A good while.

“I’m sorry Nya, Dad said, letting me go. “You gave me a lot to think about. Listen, I’ll call you when you land in Connecticut, alright?”

I smiled. “I’ve still got time. Why not talk some more now?”

[cipheramnesia]

Humans should not have any prerequisite reason for working for disabled rights and accessibility. It should just be part of being a good person.

HOWEVER

In a world where all of our bodies age and grow more frail and are affected by entropy, where every single person knows on the basic and most fundamental level that they have a nearly 100% chance of living with a disability purely on the basis on linear time, where it is that damn certain and blatantly obvious, I am still boggled at anyone who sees advocating for disability rights and better ways to meet disable needs and thinks "that's not worthwhile." And while aging and disability have some distinct differences in how they're supported in society, a person 80 years old who is hard of hearing is in the same media captioning boat as a 20 year autistic with audio processing issues.

Growing to a ripe old age with zero amount of disability is like becoming a billionaire. Everyone has been convinced it'll happen to them, but the chances are near zero. Anyone can become disabled at any time, but not only that - everyone is going to become disabled because of time.

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 34: Suburban Home

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, blood and gore, animal death, slightly steamy ❧ Word Count: 6.8k

❧ In This Chapter: You make yourself at home in Alexandria, and meet a new friend. Aaron attempts to get to know Daryl, but ends up in a bit of a pickle. Deanna unveils your new house to you, and dinner with Aaron proves to be quite amusing.

❧ A/N: I hope you guys don't mind these longer chapters... sometimes I just get going and I can't stop, especially with all the Reader/Daryl cuteness! We also get to see some bonding between Daryl and Aaron, which is super fun. I love seeing the parallels between Reader and Aaron, and how they're clearly so much alike. Oh, and don't get me started on the pasta eating scene... Jesus Christ, I never wanted spaghetti more in my life.

When the morning came, Daryl woke you to let you know that he, Rick, and Carol were going to go out to the woods for a bit, under the guise of taking Carol out for shooting practice.

They were having meetings, the three of them. Discussing what to do in case things went south, however that might happen.

Though you didn’t think it was totally necessary, you were glad for their preparedness.

You didn’t have much to do, so you took your time showering and getting dressed in the clothes the Alexandrians had left for you all.

“Let’s see…” you said to yourself as you scanned the closet, holding the bath towel that wrapped around your body.

It was a lot of suburban mom style clothes, and you supposed you shouldn’t care because you were lucky to have access to any clean clothes at all. Still, you sighed a bit in disappointment. You couldn’t even count how many times you dreamt about having a closet full of your style of clothes. When you woke up from those dreams, you felt like crying because it wasn’t real.

To you, fashion and clothing were a reflection of one’s self. When you had to wear whatever you could get your hands on, which was what you had been doing lately, you didn’t feel like you were completely embodying who you were. It was a silly concept, but that’s how you felt.

As you continued to rifle through your options, you froze when you saw a lone dress hanging at the other end of the closet. It was a soft baby pink with a knee-length a-line skirt and short puff sleeves. It was cinched at the waist with a matching pink band, and it had clover-shaped mother of pearl buttons running all the way down the front. There was a small pink bow hanging from the wide circular neckline.

You audibly gasped as you took it off the hanger and held it in front of you. It was a relatively plain dress compared to some of the others you used to wear, but it was the prettiest one you had seen in ages. Plus, it was one of your favorite colors. You always looked best in soft hues of pinks and purples, at least in your opinion.

What you liked about it most of all was how it seemed very you.

You were lucky enough to snag some short white heels that fit you pretty comfortably, though you would have to get used to the feeling again. After rifling through the jewelry box on the dresser, you picked out a pair of mother of pearl earrings, which you thought matched your buttons nicely.

You were to keep on your amethyst necklace, as well. You kept your promise to Daryl: you’d never taken it off.

You fixed your hair, combing through it and fluffing it up the way you liked. It was nice to have it down without worrying it would get pulled on by a walker.

When you felt sufficiently put-together to mingle with the Alexandrians, you began heading out the door to get to know the community a bit more. Opening the front door, you were greeted by a woman who seemed to be startled by your sudden appearance.

“Oh, hello,” she said, her voice bubbly and almost sing-songy. You looked down in her hands to see she was holding a stack of books. “Um, is (Y/N) around?”

“I’m (Y/N),” you said with a smile.

She beamed at you. “Oh, perfect! I’m Beverly, one of the teachers.” She nudged her head towards the house which held the classroom. “Deanna asked me to bring you some copies of our textbooks.”

You opened the door wider to allow her to step inside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” she said, walking in with a huff. “These books are heavy!”

She set them down on the kitchen counter with a thud. “Phew,” she said, wiping her brow.

You stood by the bar across from her and examined the books. There were four textbooks—one for science, math, literature, and history, each made for younger students.

“These are what we’ve been using. Each of our students has one of each, too. These are the teacher’s copies.”

You held up the math book and began to flip through its pages. Shit, I suck at math.

“Thank you,” you said. “When do I start?”

“Well, whenever you want. I have a schedule already drawn up for you. It’s only five hours three days a week, and your group is small, only seven kids.”

Thank god. I can handle seven.

“Your first day would actually be tomorrow if that works for you,” she continued.

You nodded. “That works just fine.”

After exchanging brief small talk with Beverly, a woman who was exhaustingly peppy, but seemed quite nice, you went for a walk around the town.

It was peaceful, yet lively and full of vibrant colors and sounds. You passed by a small lake where an old man was sitting and reading and a young couple were having a picnic. They waved to you as you walked by, and you thought for sure you were in Heaven or some kind of dreamworld.

In a daze, you didn’t see Maggie and Deanna walking up to you.

“(Y/N),” Maggie grabbed your arm and brought you back to reality.

“Maggie, hi,” you said. “Deanna.” You nodded your head to her.

“We have some good news,” Maggie announced.

Your eyes widened. “I’d love to hear it.”

“We’ve got yours and Daryl’s house ready,” Deanna said. “It’s fully stocked and ready to move in whenever you want.”

You looked at her in shock, still processing the phrase “yours and Daryl’s house.”

“It’s right next to ours,” Maggie said, smiling widely. “Come on.” She grabbed your hand and led you to a small two-story home with pale blue siding and white window shutters. It had a covered porch with a swinging bench and a pink rose bush in front. It was much smaller than Rick’s house, but it was all you needed.

“Here it is,” said Deanna. “All yours.”

You smiled in disbelief. “Seriously?”

She laughed. “Seriously.”

Maggie wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “It’s like you always wanted.”

You looked at her with tears streaming down your face. Wiping them away quickly, you tried to compose yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you sobbed.

You could not compose yourself.

“Let’s go inside,” Maggie said.

Deanna left the two of you to roam your new house. Opening the door, you were greeted by the base of the staircase. Alongside it was an archway which led to the kitchen and dining room, bright and airy. The living room was smaller than Deanna’s but cozier in your opinion. It had a fireplace and built-in bookshelves all around it, just waiting to be filled.

“Oh my god,” you said, then turned to look at Maggie again. “Are you sure this is real?”

She smiled at your disbelief. “Real as it can be.”

You circled the living room, admiring the sparse furniture. There was only an olive green couch and a matching set of chairs, as well as a rich mahogany coffee table, but you liked it that way. It gave you the chance to make it a real home, you and Daryl.

Getting excited now, you began to envision every little detail and what you would put where, once you found it, that is.

“It needs a rug,” you said, then turned to look at the bookcase again. “And lots of books. And art on the walls…”

Maggie laughed. “You’ve been thinkin’ about this haven’t you?”

You smiled. “Back when we were on the road, before the prison, I used to see things in the windows of the old shops. Little trinkets, stupid things you wouldn’t ever need. I thought about how nice it would be to have something that was useless, just for decoration. That’s what I’m gonna do with this place.”

You wandered around the room some more in silence. “You think Daryl will like it?” Maggie asked.

You sighed. “I hope so. These days I think he’d rather live out in the woods than in a house with me.”

Maggie stepped towards you and rested her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, that ain’t true. He loves you. He wants you to be happy, and this is what’s gonna make you happy. He’ll deal with it, and he’ll be happy about it.”

Maggie left a little while later to let you explore on your own. She had a position helping out Deanna with policy making, so her job was pretty important and required a lot of time spent with Alexandria’s leadership.

You headed upstairs with a spring in your step, excited to see your own bedroom.

There were three of them, more than you could even hope for. The biggest, of course, was the master, which you would share with Daryl (if he ever agreed to sleep in a bed, that is). It had a large queen-sized bed and an en-suite bathroom—with the most glorious claw foot tub you had ever seen.

I haven’t taken a bubble bath in centuries.

The other two bedrooms were quite small, but very promising. Neither of them had any furniture, so you expected you would just fill them up yourself, though you had no idea what to put in them.

You always wanted your own study, so maybe Daryl would let you do that with one of the rooms. The other, however, you weren’t sure. You supposed you’d let Daryl do with that room what he wanted. He could have the basement and the garage too. That seemed like his kind of thing.

Now, you just waited for Daryl to come back. You weren’t sure how he would react to the house, but you were prepared for the worst. Daryl was a simple man in some ways, but in many ways he was the most complicated person you had ever met. He was hard to read, and his moods were known to shift easily. You were the best at taming him, but even you had to admit when you couldn’t quite get a hold of him.

The fact that he was outside the walls now was a testament to that.

When Carol, Rick, and Daryl split off, Daryl decided to spend a little time alone in the woods to hunt. He slowed in his tracks when he felt a presence following him.

“Come out, now!” he said, his crossbow held high and ready to fire.

Emerging from the trees was Aaron, his hands held in the air in surrender. Daryl lowered his bow and instead shot him with a vitriolic glare.

“You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?” Aaron asked. He didn’t answer, just narrowed his eyes. “Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn’t seem to be an expert at that.”

“Ain’t much of a difference no more,” Daryl replied.

“That how you feel about your people?”

Daryl inched closer to him, angry with his line of questioning. “Why are you followin’ me?”

Aaron looked around in confusion. “Didn’t know I was. I came out to hunt rabbits… but, don’t tell (Y/N) that. She loves rabbits. You probably already know that, though,” he laughed awkwardly. When Daryl didn’t ease up, he cleared his throat and became serious again. “I know why you’re out here. Mind if I join?”

Daryl considered it for a moment. He couldn’t in good consciousness leave your brother out in the woods alone. Turning to leave, he said over his shoulder, “Keep up.” Aaron began following him. “And keep quiet.”

That was one difference between you and Aaron—you could keep quiet, he couldn’t.

“How long you been a hunter?”

Daryl ignored him as he scanned the leaf-covered ground for tracks. “Okay,” Aaron said under his breath. He’d be lying if he wasn’t trying to use this opportunity to get to know Daryl. The closest thing to a conversation Aaron had with Daryl so far hadn't gone how Aaron had hoped, as it ended in Daryl uttering the phrase, "Nobody gives a shit."

“What did you do before all this?” he prodded.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, remembering when you asked him that same question. He huffed. “Don’t matter.”

Aaron scoffed. “Just making conversation.”

“Told ya to be quiet.”

He shrugged. “Don’t like the quiet. It’s too… quiet. That’s why I usually don’t go out alone, that and it’s dangerous.

Daryl turned to look at him. “Why’d you come out alone this time?”

“Eric, my partner, his ankle’s still healing. I usually go out with him.”

Daryl nodded, then turned to begin walking again, the dried leaves crinkling under his heavy feet with each step.

“Deanna’s getting you and (Y/N) your own house, you know.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve seen it, it’s a good one. Made sure of it. I think you’ll really like it there. (Y/N) will.”

He kept walking, quickening his pace as if to lose Aaron. “I know it’s hard, getting used to Alexandria. You all have been out here so long, it’s hard to remember what it was like living in a community. But I want you to know, it’s worth it.”

Daryl stopped in his tracks when he saw a black horse in a grassy clearing just ahead.

Aaron caught up with him and stood next to him in awe of the creature as it grazed. The two men walked forward a bit. “I’ve been trying to catch him for months,” said Aaron quietly. “Bring him inside. His name’s Buttons.”

Daryl gave him a look, to which Aaron shrugged. “One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back, thought he looked like a Buttons.” He huffed. “Haven’t seen him for a while. I was afraid it was too late.”

Aaron dropped his pack and began rummaging for a rope. “Every time Eric or I come close he gets spooked.”

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and took the rope from Aaron’s hands. He looked at him in surprise. “Have you done this before?”

“My group did,” Daryl said. “But they weren’t out there that long. The longer they’re out there, the more they become what they really are.”

Daryl looped up the rope and dangled it over his shoulder before beginning to approach the horse slowly. Aaron followed not too far behind.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Daryl spoke to the horse. “All right?” He took slow and steady steps and held out the looped and knotted end of the rope. “Come on, boy.” The ebony horse leaned its head down to eat again. “Yeah, just keep on eatin’,” Daryl said. “Yeah, you used to be somebody’s, huh? Now you’re just yours.” When he got close enough to catch the horse, it raised its head and neighed at the walkers approaching. “Shit!” yelled Daryl.

The horse neighed furiously and bucked up into the air before sprinting away.

“Come on, they’re comin’!” Daryl yelled to Aaron.

Aaron raised his silenced rifle and began shooting a few of the walkers in the head. Daryl used the end of his crossbow to bludgeon the walkers in front of him. To conserve ammo, Aaron unsheathed his machete and slashed another one across the face. Daryl used his knife to put down the last couple.

“Come on,” he said to Aaron.

When the chaos died down, the two men walked in silence for a while, until it became too much for Aaron again. “You ride horses?”

Daryl sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to silence him. “I ride bikes.”

Aaron laughed. “I take it you don’t mean ten-speeds.”

Daryl didn’t laugh, or say anything at all.

“It’s not your fault, you know. That you feel like an outsider,” he continued. “Eric and I, we’re still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We’ve heard our fair share of well-meaning but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women.” He shrugged. “People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain.”

“They’re scared of you and me for different reasons,” Aaron began again. “They’re less scared of me because they know me. It’s less and less everyday. So, let ‘em get to know you. You should go to Deanna’s party tonight, you and (Y/N).”

Daryl sighed, remembering what you had told him about trying to get the Alexandrians to like him. “I got nothin’ to prove. We met a lot of bad people out here, doin’ a lot of bad shit. An’ they weren’t afraid of nothin’.”

“Yeah, they were.”

The snarls of walkers got closer and closer as Daryl and Aaron continued on. They stumbled upon another clearing where the horse was running around trying to dodge the walkers.

“Gotta move quick,” said Daryl. “He’s pinned in with ‘em.”

Daryl began running forward. “I got the far ones,” he said.

He shot a few with his bow, and Aaron began running, too, holding his rifle up high to fire. Before he could, he was brought down to the ground by a walker.

It held on tightly to his calf. Aaron sat up and reached for his machete, chopping the thing’s hand clean off his leg. The next thing he saw was Daryl’s boot caving in the walker’s head.

Aaron got up to his feet quickly. “Thanks,” he said.

When Aaron caught a glimpse of a walker stumbling towards Daryl, his back facing it as he leaned over to pick up his crossbow, Aaron cocked his gun and shot it directly in the head.

“Thanks,” Daryl huffed.

The two men started towards the horse, but the other walkers got to it first. They took it down to the ground, and they feasted on it like a pack of rabid dogs, flinging the poor creature’s organs around as they dangled from their mouths.

The horse was still alive, whinnying out in fear and pain.

“I got the one on the right,” Daryl said, approaching the bloodbath with Aaron following closely behind.

The two of them wiped them all out, but the horse was still alive.

“Go ahead,” said Daryl, gesturing to Aaron to put the horse down.

He did so, trying to hold back tears all the while. “He always ran,” he said afterwards.

Daryl was silent for a moment, looking down at the mutilated corpse of the once majestic creature. “You were trying to help him.”

When the two men made it back to Alexandria that evening, Aaron walked Daryl to your new house. He stood outside it for a while, scanning it up and down and trying to find something off about it. He couldn’t—it was perfect. Through the kitchen window, he saw you opening cupboards and organizing everything you could get your hands on. He immediately noticed your pink dress, and it brought a smile to his face.

He hated to admit it, since he teased you so much about it in the beginning, but he loved when you wore dresses. He hadn’t seen you in one since the prison, but he always thought of you when he saw one on a mannequin or a walker.

Wiping his feet on the welcome mat, he opened the door cautiously so as not to frighten you. He ended up opening it way too quietly, so when he rested his hands on your hips like he usually did, you jumped and yelped in shock.

“Daryl!” you sighed, holding your hand over your heart. “You scared the shit out of me,” you laughed.

“Sorry,” he said.

You waved your hand at him. “Don’t worry about it.” You took his crossbow from his shoulder and set it down under the accent table with your axe by the door. “You can put this here,” you said. “That way it won’t take up any room.”

He looked around at the spotless home. It was the cleanest place he’d seen in a while. No walker blood, no rats, no nothing.

“You like it?” you asked as you approached him again. “Maggie and Glenn have the one next door. It’s pretty much the same inside, but I think ours is a little nicer.”

He walked into the living room, and you followed him, eagerly waiting for his verdict. “It’s nice,” he said, turning to face you.

You smiled and lunged towards him, engulfing him in your arms and kissing him sweetly. He held you in surprise, and tightened his arms around you when you kissed him. You whimpered a little at his touch. It had been so long since you could really kiss him. You missed his lips so much.

Pulling back, you cupped his face in your hands. “I love you so much,” you said, unable to contain your smile. “This is our home, Daryl. Can you believe it?”

He looked around again. “Nah, still don’t seem real.”

“Well, it is. It’s ours and it’s perfect.” You squished his face and brought him for another kiss.

He rested his hands on your hips and pulled you closer into his body. The kiss started off innocently enough, but he devoured your lips with such passion and want that you opened your mouth for him and let his tongue explore to his heart’s content. He twisted his tongue around yours, then pulled back a little to lick your lips.

You moaned deeply into his mouth, trying desperately not to lose all composure as he slipped his hands under the skirt of your dress and began massaging your ass with his strong hands.

He pulled away completely for a moment. “Where’s the bed?”

You laughed into his mouth as he kissed you again. “Upstairs.”

He grunted before hoisting you up into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Daryl!” you squealed.

He bolted up the stairs with you in tow. “Which one?” he asked on the landing.

You pointed to the master bedroom, and Daryl kicked the door wide open before lunging towards the bed and plunging you both down onto its downy mattress. With you below him, he resumed kissing you, his tongue attempting to suck up every last bit of your taste as he pawed at your breasts.

He grunted at the feeling of the fabric under his hands, preferring much more to feel the warmth of your bare breasts and the hardness of your aroused nipples. “Take this off,” he said.

You opened your eyes. “I can’t,” you said. “Deanna’s party is starting soon.”

Daryl propped himself up with his arms and looked down at you. “You ain’t goin’ to that thing, are ya?”

You sat up. “Yes, and you are too.”

Daryl scoffed. “Ain’t no way.”

You sighed, then began rubbing his chest up and down with your hands, all the while breaking out your big doe eyes. “Please, honey,” you said sweetly. “We don’t have to stay long, just long enough so people see us.”

“They don’t like me. You see how they look at me?”

You tilted your head. “It’s just because they don’t know you, and you’re… standoffish. If you show interest in the community, they’ll start coming around to you I bet. You need to make an effort, though.”

Daryl grunted and stood up from the bed. “Ain’t goin’. You can go but I got things to do.”

“Like what?” you asked pointedly.

Daryl shrugged, then looked around the sparse bedroom. “Ya know… organize shit.”

You laughed and propped yourself up and off the bed to approach him. “There’s nothing to organize, Daryl. Come with me, please. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Won’t the others be there?”

“Yes,” you said, “but they’re not you.” You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck and touched your forehead to his. “I’ll make it worth your while.” You smirked as you bit your lip and an idea formed in your head. “When we get home…” You lowered your hand to palm at his bulge. “I’ll show you how grateful I am.”

Daryl gulped. He hadn’t felt your touch there for so long, he just wanted to throw you on the bed and take you now. He knew you wanted to go to this party, though, and you looked so pretty in your dress. “We won’t stay long?” he asked.

You nodded, rubbing your hand up and down the front of his jeans to feel his hardening cock. “Mhm.” Leaning in to kiss him, you bit his lip as you pulled away. “Then we’ll stay in bed the rest of the night.”

Daryl smirked. “Sounds good ta me.”

At least the bed part of the plan did. The party part, not so much. Still, he’d do anything to make you happy.

You gave him one last quick kiss on the lips. “Good,” you said. You stepped back to scan his dirty, sweaty body, your hands on your hips and shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you take a shower, though.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Told ya, I’m clean.”

You ignored him and headed to the closet to begin picking out some clothes for him. “You’re not clean until I say you’re clean,” you said. “Only way you’re gonna get that dirt off is by taking a shower, Daryl.”

Daryl squinted his eyes at you suspiciously as you pulled out a white button-up shirt and black trousers. “I ain’t wearin’ that.”

You sighed. “Come on, Daryl. Those clothes need washed.” You nudged your head at his usual attire—a black button-up shirt with the sleeves cut off, his angel-winged vest, a pair of ripped black jeans, and his brown steel-toed boots that were still soaked in blood from curb stomping that walker earlier. He had all these clothes for so long, only occasionally changing it up when they inevitably became too raggedy to wear.

“Actually,” you corrected yourself after taking a closer look at his clothes, “we might have to burn them.”

“Like hell we do,” he said.

You sighed. “How about this—you take a shower for me, but you can pick out your clothes. Deal?”

Daryl crossed his arms. “Fine.”

He eyed the shower skeptically as you turned it on for him. You held your hand under the stream and adjusted the knobs until it was warm. “They have generators,” you said. “You have to use the hot water sparingly, though. It runs out.”

You turned around and laughed when you saw he was still in his boxers. “Daryl, take your underwear off.”

Daryl looked down at his black boxers. “You’re gonna throw them away, ain’t ya?”

You smirked. “Maybe…” He frowned at you. “There’s lots of new pairs in the drawers, honey.”

He reluctantly began taking off his underwear. “Just don’t throw away my vest… or the boots.”

You rolled your eyes. “I won’t throw anything away. Except those filthy boxers.” You held your hands out for him to hand the soiled underwear to you. It was filled with holes and somehow also stained with walker blood. That stuff was worse than sand. “Now get in there, and wash your hair.”

You kissed his cheek before leaving him alone to shower.

It was a longer shower than you expected, and you heard him fumbling about and cursing when he dropped the shampoo bottle a few times. You heard a series of loud thuds. “You okay in there, butterfingers?” you yelled out to him.

“Yeah,” Daryl yelled back.

You shook your head and laughed as you put the clothes you had picked out for him back. You hung them up again with care, imagining how handsome Daryl would look in fresh, clean clothes that weren’t ripped or stained. Though you adored Daryl’s rugged look, sometimes it was nice to think of him getting cleaned up. All in all, you wanted Daryl to be comfortable and to be himself, so you didn’t bother trying to change him. He was perfect to you just the way he was.

When he came out of the shower, he smelled like roses. You went up to him and sniffed his wet hair with a smile. “Don’t start,” he said.

You laughed. “You smell lovely.”

The two of you got to the party a little while after it started. Daryl took longer than you thought planning his outfit. He did, in fact, wear some of the new clothes in your closet—a long-sleeve black button-up shirt and a new pair of black jeans, but he kept his vest and his boots (which he cleaned), and you were thankful for that. You always liked his vest, and those boots were the only article of clothing he had left from the day you first met. He always wore them.

You kept your pink dress on, and you didn’t have to do much except spray on some perfume and fix your hair again after Daryl rustled it up. The only thing you were missing was makeup, but you had gone so long without it that you didn’t feel it was too necessary. Still, you found yourself missing your old makeup bag for the first time in years.

“(Y/N), Daryl!” Deanna’s excited voice called out to the two of you as you awkwardly stepped in through the front door. The place was crawling with suburbanites and well-dressed people. Though it was easier for you than Daryl to acclimate to Alexandria, you still found yourself overwhelmed by how much it seemed like a world untouched by the apocalypse.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” she said, looking you up and down in your dress. “You look great.” She turned to Daryl who was nervously looking around the living room. “Both of you.”

You tugged at Daryl’s arm, trying to get him to pay attention to Deanna. “Thank you,” you said. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world, right, honey?”

Daryl looked at you in bewilderment. You mouthed something to him along the lines of “say something.”

“Um, yeah,” he said.

The three of you were silent for a few awkward moments, with the murmurs of the others nearby you engaging in idle conversation and the soft piano elevator music lulling in the background. “Well,” she said, “welcome. Make yourselves at home.”

It was difficult to do that.

Though you and Daryl met up with Glenn and Maggie, several of the Alexandrians were giving Daryl strange looks, and you, too, by association.

When Glenn and Maggie left a half an hour later, you and Daryl were trying to leave too, but Beverly had found you.

“(Y/N)!” she called to you from across the room.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

Daryl reached for his back pocket to make sure he had brought his cigarettes. “I’m gonna wait outside.”

Please don’t leave me with her.

“Okay,” you said before kissing his cheek. “I‘ll be right out.”

Daryl left through the front door, but not without a few more people giving him the eye.

You burned up inside, angry at these so-called “civilians” for looking down at Daryl. You had initially thought Daryl was exaggerating about the looks they were giving him since your group arrived, but now that you saw what he was talking about, you were incensed. It took a whole lot to reach your boiling point, but when it came to Daryl, you were a firecracker.

“Hey! How’s it goin’?” Beverly asked.

You turned to her and smiled. “Oh, good. Just about to head out, actually. Gotta get up early for tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Your first day of teaching. I think those kids are gonna like you, you know. You seem like a natural.”

You shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, I was an elementary teacher back in the day. You’ve got the stuff, I can already tell.”

You fiddled with your thumbs awkwardly, your small talk hitting its limit for the day.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she asked.

She caught you off guard. “Oh, um… yeah, that was Daryl… in fact, he’s out there waiting for me. He’s really tired, you know.” That was a lie. Daryl was hardly ever tired. He only ever needed a few hours of sleep at a time. “We’re going to turn in for the night.”

Beverly nodded. “I see. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Pick you up around nine and walk you over to the classroom, introduce you to the little rascals.”

You smiled. “Sure, that sounds great. Thanks, Beverly.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Call me Bev.”

“Okay, Bev,” you said. “See you tomorrow.”

You practically sprinted out the door.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Beverly, or the others, it was more so that their presence tired you out. It had been so long since you had to engage in social niceties that you had to work on getting the skill back. To make matters worse, you hated some of the looks you and Daryl were getting. It wasn’t all of the Alexandrians, just some of them.

“We made it,” you huffed as you closed the door and met with Daryl on the front porch. He was leaning against the pole and putting out the butt of his cigarette.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure am.”

The two of you began walking down the sidewalk in silence towards your new house, the moon high in the sky and shining down on you. Daryl surprised you by grabbing your hand and swinging it between the two of you. You giggled when he leaned over to kiss your cheek, and his scruff tickled you.

“You’re affectionate today,” you said.

Daryl grunted. “Just missed ya.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “I missed you too, cutie pie.”

As you studied his face, you began to think about the stares he was getting, and you wondered if it affected him. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out.

Daryl only gave you a confused look. “What for?”

You swallowed hard. “For making you go to that… I, um… saw the looks we were getting.”

Daryl shook his head. “They’ve been lookin’ at me like that since we got here, told ya. They don’t trust me. Ain’t much we can do ‘bout it.”

You nodded sadly. “I thought they would be less… judgmental, you know? I mean, there’s no reason for them to look at you like that.”

“It’s ‘cause I ain’t all friendly, like you said.”

You sighed. “I suppose. Still, no reason to treat you like an outsider.”

“Don’t matter how they treat me. You’re the only thing that matters. Long as they treat you good, we’re good.”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice you had stopped in front of Aaron’s house. His porch light flicked on, and you were awakened from your rapture by his voice calling out to you.

“(Y/N), Daryl,” he said as he closed his front door with a squeaking of the hinges. “Hey.”

Daryl turned around and let go of your hand. He never liked public displays of affection, and he wasn’t about ready to make out with you in front of your older brother. “Thought you were goin’ to that party over there?” he asked, pointing to Deanna’s house.

“Yeah, we missed you,” you said to him. “Wasn’t a party without you.”

Aaron smirked. “I was never going to go ‘cause of Eric’s ankle, thank God,” he laughed.

Daryl looked at him confused. “Why the hell’d you tell me to go, then?”

Aaron shrugged. “Wanted to see if you’d actually go, and you did. I’m assuming (Y/N) convinced you, though.”

You snorted. “I didn’t know you two were hanging out without me,” you teased.

Aaron gave you a big smile, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder to his front door. “Why don’t you guys come in? Have some dinner?”

Daryl looked at you silently. Honestly, he just wanted to go home, but he was hungry too. You raised your eyebrows at him to ask if he was okay with it.

He looked back to Aaron, then nodded to you with a grunt.

“Depends,” you said. “What are you making?”

Aaron nudged his head towards the door. “Come on,” he said simply. “It’s some pretty serious spaghetti.”

You followed him in with Daryl closely behind you. Taking his hand in yours, you pulled him closer. He was very stiff. “Relax,” you whispered to him as the two of you walked up the steps. “Aaron likes you a lot.”

Aaron did, in fact, like Daryl.

Though Aaron was older than you by six years, Daryl was even older than him by a few more years. He couldn't help but look at him as a wise man who had been through so much in his time—it was written on Daryl’s face.

In any case, Daryl was the best boyfriend you ever had. Aaron was around for all of them, and he never approved of any of them. Daryl, however, was so different from any man you’d ever been with, and Aaron liked that about him.

He was always immensely impressed with how much he obviously cared about you. He couldn’t say the same for your past boyfriends, who largely took advantage of you and your love for them.

Sitting down to dinner, you sat yourself next to Aaron, with Daryl on the other side facing him and Eric facing you.

You looked at Aaron’s pot of spaghetti in awe.

“You made this yourself?” you asked.

“Yep,” he said, carefully setting the pasta down on the table. “My own recipe.” He paused for a moment before sitting down. “Oh, it’s not vegetarian, (Y/N).”

You laughed at the panicked look on his face. “Oh, I haven’t been vegetarian for a while now. I’ve eaten more squirrels than you can count.”

He shook his head in disbelief, and also relief. “That’s good to know,” he said as he served himself, then grabbed your plate to serve you. “I hope you never make that tofu stir fry again.”

You shoved him playfully. “You loved it, don’t pretend otherwise.”

Eric laughed at the two of you. “So, (Y/N),” he began, “how are you liking Alexandria so far?”

You finished chewing your first bite of spaghetti. “It’s nice,” you said, then looked at Daryl. “Daryl and I just moved into our house today.”

He looked at you with pursed lips as he chewed his food, his mouth covered with red marinara sauce.

“Exciting,” Eric said, looking over at Daryl. “It’s one of the three bedrooms, right?”

You nodded. “Yes. Way too big for us, actually, but I’m thinking of maybe turning one into a study. Daryl can have the other one to do what he wants with it, I think.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, just kept clanking his fork against the plate as he ate like a wild animal, sucking up the spaghetti with a slurping sound.

Aaron and Eric smiled at each other, and you tried to hold back your laugh.

Aaron cleared his throat. “That sounds like a good plan, (Y/N). I think you’re gonna like that house a lot. The others who have that model are really happy with it.”

You smiled. “I just can’t believe I have my own house, you know? I never thought it would happen.”

You were all silent for a while then, except for Daryl, whose slurps and groans in appreciation continued threatening laughs from the three of you.

“Mmm,” he grunted as he took his last slurp of spaghetti, his plate completely empty. “Thanks.”

His face was even more drenched in marinara sauce, his beard hairs stained red. “Daryl, honey,” you said to him quietly. He looked up at you as you gestured to your own face. “You’ve got a little something.”

Aaron let out a snort, not unlike your own.

You handed him your napkin and he balled it up to wipe it across his face.

Eric turned to Daryl as he seemed to recall something he wanted to say to him. “When you’re out there,” he began, “if you happen to be in a store, or something, Mrs. Neudermeyer’s really looking for a pasta maker.”

Daryl nodded awkwardly as he took a sip of his wine and looked between you and Aaron across the table.

You were confused, but Aaron had a knowing look.

“I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here,” Eric continued, “but she wants to make her own or something. I really just think she wants something to talk about, so…” He trailed off, then spoke again. “If you see one, out on your travels, it would go a long way to…”

Aaron gave Eric a look that you knew meant “shut up” from your own experience with your brother.

“I thought it was done,” Eric said, awkwardly twirling his spaghetti. “You didn’t ask him already?”

Aaron shook his head.

“Ask me what?”

~

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[idreamofplaid]

Dean Lives Forever

Square Filled: Impala for @spndeanbingo

Characters: Jensen/Dean x Reader; Jared and Kripke mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Jensen is having a hard time with Supernatural being over. The reader has an idea to help him deal with his feelings.

Word Count: 2409

A/N: This is for you @lovealways-j. Thanks for your friendship and all the thirsty exchanges.

“Will you play something for me?” You hopefully held Jensen’s guitar out to him. He’d been home for three days now since filming on The Boys had finished, and in that time he’d eaten only egg sandwiches and barely said anything. Eventually, he’d open up and talk about it. Right now he was processing. That’s what Jensen did.

You’d known it wouldn’t be easy for him, being a different character after Dean Winchester had lived in his skin for fifteen years. It was almost a doppelganger type situation it had gone on so long. Dean was like a separate entity that came to life through Jensen every time Jensen flipped that switch, and flipping that switch had become increasingly easy over the years until the lines between Jensen and Dean were blurred.

Jensen took the guitar from you and turned on the barstool to face out from the kitchen toward the breakfast nook and give himself more room to play. He placed the instrument on his leg and started to pluck at the strings. Soon the familiar chords of “Simple Man” filled the air. 

He started to sing the words to the song he loved so much in his smooth soulful voice and had almost made it through the first verse when he stopped. His fingers strummed at the strings of the guitar for a few more seconds before they stopped moving too.

It was a Dean song. Jensen had always said it would become real to him that Supernatural was over when he walked onto another set and had to be somebody else. For the past several months, that’s what he’d done; and he had to do it alone. The travel restrictions were still in place while he was filming. That meant you couldn’t be there; Jared couldn’t be there. Jensen was alone in his head, and he was inclined to think too much sometimes.

The separation hadn’t been easy on you either. You’d lost sleep more than one night after a Facetime call when you knew things weren’t quite right, and Jensen was doing his best to put on a good face for you. He was a good actor, but he wasn’t good enough to hide what he was really feeling from you.

The irony was you had been able to see Jared, and the two of you had met for lunch regularly when he had a day off from Walker. Jared and Jensen were a package deal. You’d known that from the beginning and were more than happy to get a best friend/brother included in the greatest boyfriend ever set. Your conversations had centered largely around Jensen and the ending of Supernatural.

Jared was worried about him too because he knew how hard it was to let Sam go, and the truth was he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Jared provided a lot of insight into the things Jensen might be feeling that he wasn’t telling you about. 

Jared’s words echoed in your mind now as you watched Jensen set his guitar down on the terrazzo tile. He’s got to figure out how to make Dean part of him and any other character he plays, because Dean’s not going anywhere. 

You walked closer to stand between Jensen’s open legs and run your hands through his once again short hair.  Your fingertips massaged his scalp, and he leaned into your touch. “You miss him, don’t you?” you asked quietly.

Jensen opened his jade green eyes, and you could see the melancholy in them, the touch of heartache. He tried to laugh, but it was more of a heavy exhale through his nose and a sad smile. “I know it’s stupid. It’s been a year.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s not stupid at all.” Then you took Jensen’s hand in yours, an idea forming in your head and putting a gleam in your eye. “Go get dressed. And when I say dressed I mean put on some plaid. None of this one layer business either. That’s not the Winchester Way.”

“What are you up to, Y/N?” Jensen narrowed his eyes, making the crinkles at their corners more prominent.

“We’re taking your Baby for a ride, so get your sexy ass off this barstool and go get ready.”  You gave his butt a good smack. That would either get him moving or get his dick twitching; both would be ideal.

Fifteen minutes later, Jensen was backing Baby out of her special garage with you in the passenger seat. Driving her was like swimming; you didn’t forget how no matter how long it’d been since you last saw water. Watching the way he handled his beloved Impala was a huge turn on. It had been when you’d watched “Dean” do it on your television screen, and it was even more so now.

As he steered her down the long driveway, Jensen asked, “Where do you want to go?”

You were distracted by the sight of his forearms, with their prominent veins, peeking out from the rolled up cuffs of the red and black flannel he was wearing; and didn’t respond immediately. He looked over at you, saw you checking him out, and smiled. “Why don’t you come closer? You’re too far away.”

Jensen had changed practically nothing on the car. Installing an air conditioner was a must, but he’d wanted her to stay as much the same as she had been as she could possibly be. That included no seat belts, so you could slide across the bench seat until you were next to him. Jensen put his hand on your thigh. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, tell me where to take you.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. Just find a pretty backroad, and let’s drive.”

When he’d driven far enough out of Austin that the road was mostly deserted, you started to kiss Jensen’s neck and nibble at his ear. “How many girls do you think Dean had in this car?” you asked while you blew into his ear. 

“Do you mean had or had?” Jensen moved his hand around to the inside of your thigh and eased it higher up your leg, bringing it closer to your core.

“I think you know what I mean.” You wriggled down in the seat until your pussy made contact with his hand.

Jensen rubbed his thick fingers along the seam of your jeans, making you squirm. “Oh, I imagine he had quite a few.”

“Is this what he did with them? What you’re doing to me right now?” You rubbed yourself against his hand and moaned.

“Among other things.” Jensen’s voice had dropped down into the Dean register. “Why don’t you, uh, open those jeans you’re wearin’, and I’ll show you.” 

He glanced at you, his hand still teasing you through the denim. His expression had changed. You were looking into the eyes of Dean Winchester. He could still fall back into character in an instant.

You opened them up, granting him access to the cotton and lace trimmed panties you were wearing underneath. Dean slipped his hand under the waistband and curled his finger right up against your clit. He started making circles over the already aching nub and applied enough pressure to make you feel like you could come apart at any second.

“You are so wet, sweetheart.” He was watching the road, but his focus was on you. “I bet you’re tight too.” He said it like he didn’t know.

The idea that he was completely in character now, and it was Dean touching you made you come all over his hand. You couldn’t grab him like you wanted to, so you clawed at the seat beside you instead while your orgasm flowed through you in waves that made you weak. 

When your body stopped shaking, Dean pulled his hand from your pants and made a show of cleaning your juices off his fingers. God. His lips. You wanted to feel them on you. He was so close you could smell him, but you needed to be closer. You buried your face in his neck and breathed him in. “Find somewhere to pull over,” you told him. “Somewhere off the road where nobody can see.”

Dean/Jensen knew these Texas backroads, and within a short time he’d found a secluded place to park Baby. “Let’s get in the back,” you said, laying your hand over the swelling bulge between his legs. 

“Sounds good to me, sweetheart.” He kissed you once. His mouth claiming yours, and his need for you evident in the way his tongue tangled with yours. Then Dean opened the door. You smiled when you heard it make the familiar groaning squeak. He got out and gave you his hand to help you out of the car. 

As soon as you were both in the back seat and the door had closed solidly behind him, you reached for his belt. You couldn’t get him out of his clothes fast enough, and he’d worn all the layers just like you’d asked him to. With your clothes piled on the floorboard, you explored each other’s bodies with your hands and your mouths. 

Dean made his mark on you, leaving hot kisses on your stomach, your breasts, and the insides of your thighs. His touch was a little different than the one you were used to, a little heavier with an almost desperation to feel alive through the act of joining your body with someone else’s. 

You knew people said that Jensen should win awards for his acting, and you could verify that they were right because the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, it was tender, caring, and passionate. But the love wasn’t there. This man appreciated you, wanted you, worshipped your body, but he didn’t love you. It was Jensen who loved you.

The way he moved inside you was different too. His thrusts were deep and sharp, then he would slow down and roll his hips until you were begging for him to give you more. When he came inside you, the sound of your name on his lips was a more primal thing. It was basic and raw. This was sex for the sake of the pure physical pleasure, and it felt amazingly good. You clenched him tightly, determined to milk every drop of the pain out of him. 

Immediately after the finish of your mind numbing orgasm, he rolled off of you. “Thank you, baby.” Jensen.

You turned toward him and propped yourself over him, so you could look down into his face. What you saw confirmed what you’d heard in the change of his voice. It was the man you loved. You kissed him, and it was the kiss you knew. It was filled with a soft intensity that made you feel loved, wanted, chosen, and trusted.

You were overwhelmed by how much this man meant to you. Dean Winchester was as sexy as any man had ever been, but it was Jensen you were going to marry one day, Jensen who held your heart. It was Jensen who always thought of you in so many little ways like a true gentleman would.

As if to prove it, he asked, “Are you cold?” He rubbed his hand down your back to check and apparently decided you were, because he sat up and retrieved his flannel from the floorboard. “Here. Put this on,” he told you as he helped you into it and buttoned up some of the buttons in the middle, enough to keep the shirt closed. 

You settled back beside him, his arms wrapped securely around you. His body was warmer than any flannel. You placed soft kisses on his chest, then lay your head down on it. “It’s okay to miss him,” you whispered while you traced mindless patterns over Jensen’s heart with your fingertip. “It’s okay to be him again sometimes too if that’s what you need. He’s part of you, Jensen. Always will be.”

“It’s been so damn hard these past few months.” You kissed his chest again to encourage him to go on. “I hear ‘action’ and to me that means be Dean, but I couldn’t. I had to fight it. I couldn’t walk like him, or sound like him, or make any of the gestures he would have made. And, yeah, I missed him.”

“I missed being on set with Jared too, having him to play off of. We made each other better. We had a rhythm when we were doing a scene that was just natural. So natural, it almost wasn’t acting.” You could feel his arms tighten around you the slightest bit. ”I felt like I forgot how to act.” 

You kissed him again, letting your lips linger on his skin before you pulled them away. “I wish I could have been there for you. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

He tried to laugh again, just like he had earlier in the kitchen. It was a little closer to a real laugh. “I couldn’t be Dean Winchester forever, could I?”

You raised your head up to look at him. “That’s not even a question, Jensen.” You smiled when you said it. “You will be Dean forever. You can’t get him out of you. Stop trying to fight it. You’ve proved you can play another character. Eric can’t stop raving about how good you are, and I’m sure when the season is released everyone else is going to see that too.”

He reached up and took your face in his hand. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch to have you.” Your smile got bigger.

“See. That was Dean right there.” Realization crossed Jensen’s face. He shook his head and smiled, really smiled.

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t mind if I bring Dean out to play every once in awhile?” The smile was still on his face, and it was beautiful. 

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.” You kissed him then with a light flirtiness for the first time that day. “In fact I think it would be a good idea for us to do that. We better keep you in practice because everybody knows Supernatural is coming back, and we don’t want Dean to come across like Soldier Boy,” you said playfully.

Jensen flipped you beneath him. “Soldier Boy? I’ll show you Soldier Boy.”

And that’s a story for another time...

Everything: @gambitwinchester​ @princessmisery666​ @peridottea91​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​ @emilyshurley​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @waywardbaby​ @atc74​ @shaniquacynthia​ @mariekoukie6661​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @67-chevy-baby​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @emoryhemsworth​ @crashdevlin​ @jules-1999​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @becs-bunker​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @sea040561​ @dawnie1988​ @volleyballer519​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @deansotherotherblog​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @spnbaby-67​ @wayward-and-worn​ @asthesunwentdown​ @vulgar-library​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @petitgateau911​ @calaofnoldor​

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee​ @flamencodiva​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @focusonspn​ @akshi8278​ @ladywinchester1967​ @sgarrett49​ @wingedcatninja​ @coffee-obsessed-writer​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @ellewritesfix05​ @weepingwillowphoenix​

[omgkatinka]

Possessed (1/?)

Summary: August Walker survived and needs a homebase to work on his plan b on a new world order. He is going to claim possession on someone's home who is seemingly an easy target.

Warnings: stalking for this chapter, threads, violence, dubcon and noncon for future chapters

Words: 699

Masterlist

Note: This is merely an introduction, hopefully there is more to come. I have been toying with this idea for a while and thanks to @thatsthewrongwallcraig 's encouragement decided to post. Thanks Tam for listening and advice. This would not be up without you. This is not beta'd.

Drinking his coffee, August Walker kept scanning the people hurrying through the station. They reminded him of ants. Though ants had a system and a purpose and he doubted half of these men and women had a true one.

Months ago he had a purpose and a system, until he lost his organisation and almost his life to Ethan Hunt. He still had no idea how he had gotten this lucky in the end. The last thing he remembered was falling off a cliff with a hook coming towards his head. What followed was blackness until he woke to lots of pain, bitter tea and some weird honey administered onto his wounds by Kashmiri people in some settlement in Kashmir, that did not even deserve the title village. Once healed enough to move he had made the track from India over to Europe, using all kinds of transportation and stopping in a few safe houses he had established over the years. With cash, a number of prepaid credit cards, a laptop and a couple of unused fake identities in tow, he was now ready to set the foundation for plans b, c, d or one of countless other scenarios in motion, in order to get closer again to his aim of the greater good. He needed to find out, how compromised the apostles were and if he could build from the ruins or needed to start over. For that he needed a headquarter. He had set his eyes on greater metropole regions in Europe but did not have a final plan how exactly to proceed. Using places to stay like hostels, b&b's or hotels was good enough for a couple of days, but not for what he needed. The absence of a body made him sure, the CIA and IMF, especially Hunt, were still on the lookout for him and he needed to be smarter than them.

When his eyes landed on her, he had his light bulb moment. That would be perfect. There she was: nondescript, even mousy. Walking through the station towards the platform that would most likely take her to her destination. This one was being too polite, constantly stepping out of her path to make way for others, apologizing to the man that had rudely ran into her trolley-bag. Avoiding eye contact.

Abandoning his coffee, August grabbed his backpack and followed her. He kept watching her when she nervously scanned the wagon plan and then walked to the assigned part on the platform, she’d have to get on the train. Only now acknowledging the destination of the upcoming train on the display, August knew he might have hit the jackpot should his assumptions prove correct and that city would be her destination. Considering there were only three stops on this connection, he decided to follow her and find out more about her. The other three stops would be in larger cities as well and if his deductions were right, all of those might provide enough anonymity for him for a while.

He followed her into the train and sat down close to her. Thanks to mobile booking he fixed himself a ticket. Keeping an eye on her, he again could not believe his luck when she pulled out a tablet and logged into the trains wifi. He almost declared this as an invitation. Getting out his laptop, he was quick to log in himself and only needed a couple of minutes to access her tablet and with that viable data. Her facebook account alone was repository of personal information. Her name, date of birth, working place – relationship status. Moving to her Instagram, he found a lot of nature pictures, lakes, beaches, cats. Rarely a selfie and even less with friends. No parties, no boyfriends. He had been right, single woman with a comprehensible small social circle, pliable and submissive to other people. He went on to her amazon purchases, her home address – quick research told him about the apartment building she lived in. Though he needed to be careful, he was set on a plan. He was about to live with this woman for the foreseeable future and she was about to find out soon.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Sabina Nessa

Sabina Nessa, a 28-year-old primary school teacher was attacked while walking to meet a friend at The Depot bar, Kidbrooke, on 17 September 2021. She had earlier left her home in nearby Astell Road and her body was found the next day in Cator Park by a member of the public.

People have continued to leave tributes and candles in Pegler Square, while a book of condolence was opened on Saturday in the One Space community centre, near to where Ms Nessa's body was found.

Members of Ms Nessa's family also spoke at a rally at East London Mosque, while a candle was lit outside No 10 Downing Street in her memory.

The post-mortem examination into the cause of Ms Nessa's death was inconclusive.

Scotland Yard previously released CCTV footage of a man filmed walking close to the park, through Pegler Square, on the night Ms Nessa was attacked. 

A 36-year-old man was arrested at around 3am at a home in East Sussex, cops say he has been taken into police custody. Detective Chief Inspector Neil John, from the Met Police’s Specialist Crime Command, said: “Sabina’s family have been informed of this significant development and they continue to be supported by specialist officers. ”Two men had been arrested in relation to Sabina's death - a 38-year-old man and a man aged in his 40s.Both were released under investigation. It comes as cops investigating Sabina Nessa's killing carried out fingertip searches of a building site yesterday as they hunt for a murder weapon. Officers were seen probing the site close to the spot where the 28-year-old's body was found.

Cops were hunting a man who they believe was trying to hide a red item up his sleeve - as it could be the weapon used in the attack. The Met was desperately searching for the suspect who was caught on CCTV at a nearby apartment block. He was caught on CCTV pulling a hood over his head after walking by a block of flats in nearby Pegler Square soon after Sabina's killing. Police said he was carrying a "red reflective object, and possibly trying to conceal it up his sleeve". Cops also believe he had access to a silver car. The suspect had a trimmed jawline beard and was wearing grey jogging bottoms. Detectives urged people in Kent and London to check the CCTV footage to see if they recognise the suspect.

Meanwhile, drivers who were passing by near where Sabina was killed are being urged to check dashcam footage. Cops believe her killer is likely to have been caught in the glare of car headlights. Sabina's body was found by a dog walker the following evening day covered in leaves near the OpenSpace community centre in Cator Park. She was found just 200 yards from the home she'd lived in since June.

While her disappearance wasn't reported to police, friends said they became worried when they hadn't heard from her by the Saturday.

Detective Chief Inspector Neil John, from the Metropolitan Police’s Specialist Crime Command, said: “I continue to appeal for any witnesses and anyone with information to contact police and share what they know. “People in the Kidbrooke area last Friday may recall seeing this man carrying a red reflective object, and possibly trying to conceal it up his sleeve. "If so, please call police.”

CCTV footage of the man the police are searching for and his silver car.

[andreafmn]

Running In Circles - Chapter 2

Word Count: 2,663

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 2/?

Chapter Description: The team goes back to work as Aaron Hotchner considers retiring from the team and spend time with his son. (Y/n) can’t help but provide emotional support for the Hotchner boys.

A/N: I enjoy angst and slow burns way too much XD. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 2

Once it was over, the interviews came. We knew the story. We lived it. The case was open and shut. They could try and make us pint it all on Hotch, the easy way out, but we knew better. And we would stand next to our unit chief whatever the price.

Haley’s funeral was no easier than being at the scene. It was a somber day and the sadness was imprinted in us. We all walked with dropped shoulders and a tight chest. I stood between Derek and Reid, using Morgan as support because I felt that my legs would give out at any moment. My father stood behind me rubbing circles on my back to comfort me. As we laid the roses on top of the casket, we laid to rest the life of Haley, a woman I only knew through the loving words Hotch spoke of.

The group did not know what to do to help the heartbroken man. It would take time to heal even just the smallest bit of his heart. All we could hope for was that he would come back to the team.

At the worst possible moment, the phone rings. No other team available and someone in need, we had to go to work. We all rolled our eyes or shook our heads; this was the job. But would it be the same without him?

I went to Hotch before we left and gave him a hug.

“Call me if you guys need anything,” he said.

“Just take care of your son,” I smiled, and he softly returned one of his own. I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and left to join the team.

On the plane, we were caught up with the case. We stored all our feelings and got the machines running. We needed to finish this quickly and perfectly.

Two women, both brunettes and young, high-powered executives, murdered in their own homes, the floor around them decorated with flower petals. After Emily and Derek visited the crime scene, we had another part of the puzzle, the unsub was stalking his victims. Everything just seemed so perfect and staged, there was no way he was not prepared.

I stayed with JJ in the station working on the announcement and trying to figure something else from the details provided and the crime scene photos, but JJ could see my head wasn’t in it completely for the first time.

“Hey,” she said, taking my attention from the piece of paper I had been eyeing for the past five minutes. “What’s on your mind? Talk to me.”

“Is it wrong that I feel bad for being here?” I sighed. “Working like nothing’s happened.”

“Of course not, we all feel a bit guilty,” she smiled. “I know you most of all.”

My eyes opened in shock.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Everyone knows you have a not-so-secret crush on Hotch,” she laughed. “The only one that can’t see it is him. And probably your dad. Parents can be quite oblivious to their children’s feelings in this way.”

My head flew into my hands to cover the embarrassment that was flooding my cheeks. It was one thing to assume the whole team knew, another was to have it confirmed.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), we’ll see what comes of it. What I can say is that you can’t let this stop you from doing your job.”

She smiled one last time and it was all I needed to push Aaron Hotchner to the back of my mind and bring the case forward.

“Find anything?” My father asked entering the small room at the police station, Reid following behind.

“Several people had access to each home,” I said rubbing my temple. “Housekeeper, gardener, pool cleaner, dog walker…”

“Each with their own key and an alibi to match,” JJ added, an annoyed tone rolling off her tongue.

“Any crossover?”

“None. We even vetted delivery people and utility workers.” I sighed.

“Garcia, do you have anything?” Reid said, sitting down.

“There’s no hits at the prints at all. But I did what Sir Derek there asked, and I created a paper trail,” Penny explained. “There’s no cross-over between the two victims themselves in the weeks leading up to their murders, but they did run in similar circles.”

Penelope continued to explain how both victims lived quite a lavish and high-class lifestyle as Emily and Derek joined us. We figured this man would fit right in this crowd. Educated, intelligent, a gentleman. What we had yet to pinpoint was how the unsub entered the homes with no signs of forced entry. It was clear we were not going to make any headway tonight and Derek knew it too. So, he decided we should be done for the day and we would come back tomorrow well-rested and with fresh eyes.

That night I laid in the bed of my hotel room staring at the ceiling. All I could think of was Hotch and everything he was going through. I could only imagine.

And as if by fate, my phone rang. Aaron Hotchner.

“Hello?”

“Oh,” Hotch said surprised. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I haven’t been able to sleep.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I guess I’m just worried about you.”

He chuckled softly. “You really shouldn’t.”

“But I do, Hotch.”

He stayed silent, only his slow breathing was heard through the phone.

“Did I fail her?” He asked after some minutes of comfortable silence.

“Absolutely not.”

“I promised her that I would catch Foyet and spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

“And you still can.”

“But” he exhaled loudly. “How?”

“By being the best father you can be to Jack and continue living your life in the best way you can.”

“You know, Dave told me that I had to figure out what kind of father I wanted to be and then I’d know what to do. But I have no idea what that is.”

“Hotch…”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted. “I don’t know what kind of father I am. I catch killers. I save lives. I’m a hero until my key hits the front door, and then I’m just the father who’s never there. Haley was raising Jack all by herself and that was my support blanket. I was able to do my job because I knew he was cared for by another parent. A better parent.”

He sobbed softly as the last words escaped his mouth.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I said, trying my best not to sound angry. “To that little boy, you are the only real hero that exists. He knows that when you’re not home it’s because you’re out here catching the bad guys like Foyet and making the world better for his sake. He knows that everything you do is out of love for him.

You know, when I was little my dad was absent quite a lot because of this job, but there was one thing that I knew for sure, that he loved me more than anything and that he worked better and faster because he wanted to come back home to me. And never ever have I resented him for leaving and catching the bad guys. He’s the reason I became an FBI agent.

You are an amazing father and anything you choose will be the right thing for Jack.”

After a minute of sobs, Hotch started to calm down.

“Thank you, (Y/N). You have no idea how much I needed that right now,” he cleared his throat. “How’s the case going?”

“Nope,” I laughed. “Not going to talk about the case.”

“Really?” He chuckled.

“Yes, Hotch. Take a breather. You deserve it.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, and I could hear his smile through the phone.

We had been talking for about an hour when I heard him yawn.

“Seems you’re getting sleepy there, Hotchner.” I laughed. “We should both get some rest. If it’s 3 am over here it must be 2 am in Washington. So, good night and see you soon.”

“Good night, (Y/N). Again, thank you. Sweet dreams.” And he hung up.

And finally, I drifted to sleep.

The next morning, we were up and ready for business.

“We believe our unsub is already with his next victim,” my father started. “If he matches the patter, she’ll be a successful woman, probably brunette, early 30s to mid-40s. She’ll be at home in Nashville’s upper echelon.”

“This means that he fits in,” I explained. “He drives the right car, he wears the right clothes, he’s highly intelligent. He probably comes from a place of status.”

“This guy’s sociable and he’s endearing,” said Morgan. “You would never suspect that this man is capable of murder. But he will do whatever it takes to protect the fantasy that he’s trying to relive.”

“It’s this fantasy which fuels his drive. He’s reliving a romantic evening and recreating it with each of his victims.”

“He most likely had a relationship taken away from him,” Derek crossed his arms. “So, look at men who have lost loved ones or have gone through a messy divorce.”

After finishing with the profile, we set out to establishments that fit the criteria to possibly get a suspect. As we worked, we got a call. Another crime scene, but this one was different.

A male victim. Overkill on the female. Something made him change his M.O.

Out in the garage, Reid and I looked for any sort of clues and I noticed his sight direct to the car. There may be another way we could connect the victims and how the unsub made their way into their homes.

Finally, Garcia had something with the hunch Spencer had figured. She overlaid all the geographical routes the victims had taken against the geo profile to show what we were missing with any paper trail. Although it was not a clear answer, Erika Silverman was the only one that did not fit the extravagant lifestyle and she only went and came from her work or her home. Except on Tuesday, where she went to the Botanical Gardens, what was she doing there? JJ, Reid, and I left for the gardens to find out.

And just as we had suspected, there had been an event to which Erika had attended. And a puzzle piece revealed itself.

“An event up here would be a hard sell for women in heels,” JJ commented.

“Well, most of our private events hire valets to drive the cars down to the base of the park so they don’t have to hike it up the hill.”

“Who had access to your keys but goes unseen?” Reid asked.

“And to your GPS,” I added.

“Dealerships program your home address into the navigation system before your car even leaves the lot.”

“He had turn-by-turn directions straight to her front door and the keys to get him inside,” I pointed.

We now had how he got his victims and how he entered their house without force. Now, all we had to do was pinpoint his next victim and see who he was.

JJ was instructed to get dad and Prentiss to pick up the owner of the valet service used in the event, and Derek, Reid, and I stayed behind to canvass the employees. We could catch this guy in action unless he had already gotten his next victim.

Joe Belser. That was our unsub. With the profile, the owner was able to point out the suspect quickly. And off we were.

JJ, Reid, and I headed to the venue and the rest of the team went to Belser’s house. He wasn’t in the apartment, but they had found the meaning behind the roses and universal garage door openers. In the venue, Reid called Garcia to see which of the VIP guests could be the next potential victim.

Ann Herron was the next victim, and he was already at her house.

“FBI! PUT IT DOWN!” Derek screamed, blinding Joe with his flashlight. I walked in from behind Derek and kneed Belser’s stomach. He fell to the ground groaning and Emily grabbed the man by the throat to immobilize him.

“Fantasy’s over,” she spat. “Is that what you did to them? You hit them to shut them up and then forced them to play along with your sick delusion?”

 “I love them,” Joe said sinisterly.

“You’re finally gonna meet your soulmate, Joe,” I added from behind Prentiss. “In prison.”

“Only you’re not gonna be able to push him around like you did those women,” Emily continued. “And when he comes for you in the middle of the night, when you’re least expecting it, you do me a favor. Play along.” 

She stood the man up forcibly and put him in handcuffs and I went outside to check on the victim.

“How is she?” Derek asked walking out of the house with my father.

“She’s strong,” I said closing the ambulance door. “She’ll make it. But you don’t survive something like that without scars.”

“Scars remind us where we’ve been,” my father commented. “They don’t have to dictate where we’re going.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my head as we walked back to the SUVs, finally on our way home.

The next day, I called up my dad so he would accompany me to Haley’s grave. Something told me I had to go. At the cemetery, I saw what the pull was. Sitting in front of the headstone less grave was Hotch. I walked up to him first, my father close behind. Hotch lifted his head and stared into my eyes, sitting up slightly.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” I spoke softly. “Have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?” He mused.

“That you’re coming back to the team,” my father joined his left side. Hotch looked at him. “That fighting the bad guys is who you are.”

Hotch lowered his head and shook it. “I don’t have to tell her. She already knows.”

I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and gave him a soft smile. My father did the same and walked to my side, so we’d retreat, giving Hotch some space.

“So, do you want me to drive you back to your house?” My father asked.

“No,” I smiled. “I’m gonna stay with Hotch for a bit and then I’ll go home.”

“Okay, darling.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll pick you up on Monday then. Ciao, Mia Bella.”

“Bye, dad.”

Once my dad left, I sat down on a bench and waited for Hotch.

“(Y/N), you’re still here?” Hotch questioned with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, thought you might want some company.”

“Truthfully,” he chuckled. “I do. Thank you.”

“How about this, we pick up Jack, you guys come over and I crack open a present I had for Jack.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he motioned me to his car. “Let’s go.”

We drove quietly to his apartment, only the low volume of the radio and the sound of our breathing could be heard. It didn’t take long to arrive at the complex, where he opened the car door for me and led me upstairs. Inside apartment #121, was Jessica Brooks, Haley’s sister, and Jack playing a card game.

“(Y/N)!” Jack screamed as soon as I walked through the door, running to give me a hug.

“Hey, buddy!” I hugged back.

“Hotch, you’re back,” she exclaimed. “Good to see you again, (Y/N).”

“Good to see you, too,” I smiled. “How you holding up?”

“As good as I can be.” She answered as she began to gather her things. “Well, I’ll see you soon. Bye, little guy.”

“Bye, Aunt Jessica.”

“Bye, guys.” She said as she left.

“Hey, little man,” I directed to Jack. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“How about you to pack a go-bag and you and dad come over so we can open a present I have for you?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed as he sped off to his room to pack.

“I think you should go help him,” I smiled at Hotch. “If I have any memory of being a kid, they’re not very good at packing.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Maybe I should.”

I waited for both father and son to pack for the night asking myself why I was putting myself in this position. Growing closer to a man I had a 0% chance with. But I couldn’t help it. All in all, he was my friend, and he needed all the support he could get.

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A/N: if you wish to be tagged for the next parts, please let me know. I’d be happy to. <3