#forgot to post this here after i threw it at ao3 lol :

[quin-ns]

Neighborhood Dilf (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: joel finds out he has a nickname and he asks you what it means

Tags: pre-outbreak this is a happy fic guys!! I didn’t specify a year but let’s put it at 2000 for funsies so sarah is like 11 and joel is like 30ish. also fluff, humor, flirting, age gap, goofy plot (I don’t know what this is honestly), joel being the definition of a dilf and not knowing it, crushes, overall cuteness. also suburbia

A/N: I saw a tiktok where someone said they just knew joel was the neighborhood dilf and they were so real for that I had to write it. and no I don’t care that the word was popularized online we’re using it here. I’m here to provide a cute fluffy fanfic not a historically accurate one lol. also sorry if your name is bee, I tried to come up with a name for the friend that was a nickname so if it was someone’s actual name they could just imagine their full name (I overthink)

cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • main masterlist

The loud music coming from outside woke you up from your afternoon nap. After spending a semester at college struggling to find even an hour of sleep, you were taking as many of those as possible. You were a little grouchy at first as you threw your covers off and stormed to your window, but quickly calmed down when you realized it was the annual block party your neighborhood hosted during the summer.

You’d gotten an in-person invite from Bee, another girl home from college who you’d been friends with in high school before going your separate ways. You still kept in touch since she was nice enough, which is how you found out her family was hosting this year. She’d confided in you personally that she would quote “go crazy if it was all kids and old people.”

As you looked out into their front yard, which was diagonal to yours, you saw that’s pretty much all it was. Since you were such a good friend, you decided that you’d go. 

You were getting dressed (at a leisurely pace) when your phone started to ring. You picked it up from your desk after you pulled your pink sundress on and flipped it open. The caller ID read Bee’s name and you answered, ready to tell her you were on your way.

“He’s here,” she said, sounding mistified, before you could even open your mouth. 

“Who?” you wondered, furrowing your brows a little to yourself as you went to the window.

“The neighborhood dilf,” Bee replied under her breath. 

The nickname made you laugh. It reminded you of high school. It had started as a joke, something you had started calling the new guy who’d moved into the neighborhood with his daughter a few years back. Later you found out his name was Joel Miller, but the nickname spread like wildfire to all the other girls in the neighborhood and it just stuck. 

Everyone knew about it; the girls of course, their confused parents, jealous boys who thought Joel was stealing their attention—the only person who wasn't aware of the moniker (as far as you knew) was Joel. Well, you hoped his daughter didn’t know either. Thankfully, after time, everyone forgot that you had started it. It was a bit embarrassing.

You walked away from the window to your closet and slid on your flip flops—it was summer in Texas, after all.

“You need to get over here, Y/N—what?” the last word sounded distant from the phone. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be on her way,” Bee replied, but to someone else.

“Um, hello?” you asked, waiting.

Bee was quiet for a few seconds, then whisper shouted into the phone, “you’ll never guess what just happened!”

“Let me guess, Joel just walked up and professed his love for you,” you teased, laughing at your own joke. “What, were my parents asking for me or something?” you guessed for real that time, recalling the small bit you had heard her say.

“Unfortunately no, and also no,” she sounded a little too disappointed about the first part, which made you chuckle again. “He did just ask me about you though.”

“Who?”

“The dilf.”

“Just use his name,” you told her with a roll of your eyes, heading out of your room to the stairs. “Wait.” You stopped for a second. “Joel asked about me?” 

“Yeah. I changed my mind, you’re not invited.”  If it wasn’t for her obvious sarcasm you might’ve thought she was serious. “He heard me say your name and asked if you’d be here soon. I—hey!” she yelled, causing you to pull the phone from your ear for a second. You continued your descent down the stairs as she yelled something about ‘kids’ and ‘stay out of there’. “I gotta go,” she said suddenly, then hung up.

You just shook your head with a small, amused smile and left your phone on the counter. Stupid dress and no pockets. 

You headed out the front door and walked across the street towards the party. 

It was in full swing. Music, games, food table—it looked like something out of a magazine. The Grants had a huge front yard—it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood—and it seemed like everyone was there. There were kids running around, adults all mingling—some sitting at the fold out tables, others walking around, others chasing their kids—there was also a group of dads surrounding the grill. You glanced that way and didn’t see Joel. You wondered where he was and if you should find him, but Bee found you first.

“The kids aren’t supposed to go inside alone and two of those little jerks went into my room,” Bee complained right away, straightening out her white blouse over her jean shorts. Her pinned back brown hair was a little messy, though. You wondered what happened, which she quickly answered. “I saw them jumping on my bed through the window.”

“Sounds like fun,” you commented sarcastically. Bee looped her arm through yours. 

“My dad set up ring toss and it’s all little kids, I don’t wanna be the only adult playing. Come on.” She dragged you along in that direction and you willingly went with.

You saw a few kids from the neighborhood playing, mostly the preteens who were too old for hopscotch but whose parents had told them they weren't old enough for the mini golf (one of the boys had overshared that little comment). 

“Y/N!” a girl's voice called. You looked that way and saw Sarah Miller walking towards you. A few days out of the week when her dad was working late, you’d go over to their house and keep an eye on her (before you left for college). It was the easiest babysitting gig you ever had; she was polite, always did her school work, and hardly caused any problems. Her dad had raised her very well. 

She looked older than you remembered her being, but you had been gone for both fall and spring semesters—well, you had been home for winter break briefly, but not enough to see anyone other than your parents.

“Sarah, hi!” you greeted, accepting the hug she offered when she got close. “How are you?”

“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you guys gonna play with us?” she asked you and Bee. “I keep beating them and it’s not fun anymore.” 

You and Bee both laughed at that. “Sure, why not.”

“It feels weird playing with her after talking about how hot her dad is,” Bee whispered in your ear when Sarah went first. “You think he’ll come over here?”

“And what would you do if he did?” you challenged while hiding a chuckle, raising your brows at her.

“Um, probably nothing,” she admitted, cheeks a little pink. “He’s fun to look at though.” 

You hummed. “You’re not wrong.” 

The two of you played a few rounds of ring toss, although Bee got very bored quickly. “Can we go get some drinks?” she asked after not that long of playing.

“Sure,” you decided. You waved bye to Sarah and the others as the two of you walked off towards the cooler.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some of the other girls in the neighborhood that hadn’t been in attendance before. For a couple that you knew, it didn’t seem like their scene. 

“What are they doing here?” you asked Bee.

“I may or may not have also told them the neighborhood dilf was here. They, uh, wanted to… see him,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.

You raised your brows in slight disbelief. “Are you serious?” 

“I wanted more people our age here,” Bee defended. “I wasn’t sure if you were even gonna show.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you told her.

You reached the cooler and knelt down. You handed Bee a water, but she didn’t accept it. You looked up at her.

“Keep an eye out for the dilf, I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll be right back,” Bee told you, taking off before you could say anything. You guessed the bathroom given her speed walking inside.

You laughed a little to yourself as you stood back up. You kept the water for yourself. You looked out amongst the crowd, realizing you were now on your own while everyone was in groups. You saw a couple people you were friends with and thought of maybe going up and joining them, but someone else spotted you first.

Joel Miller, the aforementioned neighborhood dilf, was walking towards you. Bee would be jealous, especially if she knew you and Joel were actually friends.

You had thought about telling Bee and some of the other girls that you were friends with Joel, given how much they just loved to gossip about him (how he was still single, how he looked really good in his pajamas getting the mail, that one time he took his shirt off while mowing the lawn—that was a big day) but then you thought better of it, not wanting to be run out of town by a jealous mob.

You were already getting glances by the time Joel stopped by your side so maybe your humbleness was pointless.

“Saw you all alone, thought I’d come keep you company,” Joel broke the ice with ease.

How long had he been watching you? The thought made your cheeks feel warm.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased lightly, causing Joel to chuckle.

“I try,” he joked back, shooting you a small wink.

When you had first met Joel you were nervous around him. It was much easier to talk to him now that the two of you had become friends rather than acquaintances. He was an easy guy to get along with and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company rather than just gawking at him in his yard from your window (like you used to do in high school). Your crush hadn’t disappeared though, so you joked around with him as a way to keep things casual and avoid getting in your own head. 

“Sarah told me you were finally here, she was happy to see you,” Joel mentioned with a light smile.

That made you smile back. “She’s a sweet kid,” you told him. “I was happy to see her too.”

You fiddled with the water bottle in your hand as you spoke, trying to unscrew the cap. The stupid thing was stuck and after a few seconds you gave up.

Joel gave you an amused look, glancing between your face and hands. “You want help with that?”

“Yes, please,” you handed it to him. “There you go again, proving chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you.”

Joel unscrewed the cap with ease and handed it back. “Happy to be at your service.”

“So, you guys been here a while?” you asked, sparking up conversation.

“Not too long, only an hour or so. It’s been fun though,” Joel explained. “More for Sarah than for me,” he admitted, glancing around to find his daughter. He spotted her and she waved, then continued playing with her friends.

“Why’s that?” you wondered, looking up at him just as he looked down at you. 

“Just… I mean, everyone is nice and all,” he started. “But I just feel like I got nothin’ to talk about with them, y’know? Except you.”

“Really?” You tried to not sound too thrown off by that, but you didn’t know he felt like that. It was interesting to say the least. 

“Is that such a surprise?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You shrugged. “Maybe a little. I get it though, I haven’t really talked to anyone other than Bee yet.”

“I don’t know if you’re friends with them, but I saw a bunch of girls your age walking around,” Joel said as a suggestion. 

“Nah, I’d rather just talk to you,” you said casually, before you could even think about what you had said. The look on Joel’s face changed a little, like he was trying to bite back a bigger smile.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said after a moment. Your eyes met his and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You had to look away to be able to breathe, almost certain you were reading into things. You really, really did not want to be disappointed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Joel said, making you realize you hadn’t spoken yet.

“Sure, yeah.”

“You know… young person lingo, don't you?”

You laughed at the awkward wording. If it had been any of the other adults here using the word “lingo” you would’ve cringed, but there was something cute about the way Joel said it. You tried to snap that thought out of your head.

“Mostly, yeah,” you replied with a little chuckle paired with a curious tone. “What’s up?”

“Do you know what a dilf is?” he asked bluntly. That alone told you he had no idea. 

You were so stunned, all you could think to say was, “why?”

“Well, those girls I mentioned… I overhead some of them calling me that,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s not bad, is it?” 

Was this karma coming back to you for starting the nickname? It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“It’s not bad, no,” you assured while also avoiding the main question.

“What is it then?” Joel’s interest was piqued now and while you couldn’t blame him, you also couldn’t think of a way to make this not weird.

“It’s an acronym,” you started. Joel watched you intently, waiting for an explanation. “It means dad I’d like to…” you trailed off, hinting at him the word to fill in the blank.

Joel just looked even more confused. “To what?”

Somehow he made cluelessness incredibly attractive.

Screw it, you thought. This was already weird. Rip the bandaid off, right? “Fuck,” you finished before you could think better of it. 

“Oh,” he stated. You knew it took a second for realization to hit. “Oh. So that means they, um,”

“It’s basically like saying you’re hot,” you explained, filling in when he couldn’t. You hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or anything like that.

Joel looked a little bashful but found amusement in the situation nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you suggested, then sipped your water. You looked out at the people milling about rather than meeting his gaze.

“Do you think I’m one?”

You nearly choked on your water. “What?”

“Sorry,” Joel apologized quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I shouldn't've asked that.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him. You paused for a minute, contemplating what you might say to that. You got a rush of bravery. “If you’re asking if I think you’re attractive… the answer is yes.”

Joel couldn’t hold back his smile. He tried, but it was a failed effort. It was like he was trying to contain his anticipation. “What about if I wanted to ask you out? What would your answer be then?”

“Yes.”

Joel grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted. 

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice caused the two of you to look away from one another. You saw her running up to you guys and hoped she hadn’t heard a word of your conversation. “Can you come play with me? Mr. Grant just set up a bean bag toss!” 

“Sure, kiddo,” he told her. She grabbed his hand and started to drag him away. 

You smiled a little to yourself at the interaction—he was such a good dad.

Joel slowed her down a little bit to look back at you. “I’ll call you later, okay?” 

“Sounds good,” you replied, chuckling lightly. 

The Millers disappeared into the roaming people. You tried to follow them with your gaze but your attention got torn away.

“Waiting in a line for the bathroom in my own house is messed up,” Bee said, popping out seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s got you so happy?” she wondered, eyeing the smile on your face that couldn’t be erased.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” you replied. A part of you still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve got a date with the neighborhood dilf.”

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message! <3

#quin-ns writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[woman-of-balnain]

The Claim Part 5/5 (Alpha Rick x Omega Reader)

Previous Part | Collection Masterlist | AO3 Ver. | Next Work

Pairing: Rick Grimes/Fem!Reader

Summary: Now that your heat has arrived, Rick fully claims you as his.

A/N: Okay, here is the final part. Happy Valentine’s Day lmao.

First thing: I forgot to add earlier that this part will involve breeding kink elements from both Rick and the Reader. Sorry, I added it on the ao3 version but not here. So if that’s not your thing, don’t read.

This is like the size of two normal parts lol and out of the roughly 8k words, approx. 7k is smut 😅

The last bit is just some plot to wrap the story up. I feel like that bit is a little too short, so I might extend it later.

I’ve given it one read over before posting but it’s so damn long and there might still be some typos and/or errors. Hopefully nothing major.

Lastly, I do plan to write some more stuff with this particular Rick/Reader pairing, exploring some other stuff that will take place later in twd series. If you have any requests for them lmk.

Anyway, enjoy 😏

Warnings: Rick has A LOT of stamina, multiple male orgasms, multiple female orgasms, multiple creampies, shower sex, doggstyle, cowgirl, oral sex (male and female receiving), mentions of tasting blood (from claiming bites), deepthroating

Word Count: 8,308

Dividers by: @newlips​ + @cafekitsune​

Rick and Glenn had found a small and abandoned hunting cabin, that sat secluded in the woods. With your mind addled and hazed from your heat, you barely took notice of the setup, but your inner omega was happy to see that they’d established a perimeter with empty cans and bottles that would make noise to alert Rick if any walkers came too close.

 Your alpha didn’t waste any time once you arrived. Rick threw you down onto the bed, his hands instantly falling to the waistband of his pants once you were laying down in front of him. You watched with a hungry gaze as he unbuckled his belt, your slick pooling between your legs with anticipation.

 “You think this is a show, ‘mega?” He growled out, still angry from seeing you taking comfort in Daryl. “Clothes off. Now.”

 He pulled the belt away from his jeans, flinging it off to the side, but not before unsheathing the knife he kept holstered on it. Despite the way your heated skin made your clothes feel like they were scratching uncomfortably against you, every fiber of your being was so entranced by him that your hands fumbled clumsily with your dress, not wanting to take your attention off him.

 Rick was much more calculated and composed in his movements, eyes watching you intensely as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. When he’d gotten rid of that too, and you had still made no progress in getting rid of your own clothing, Rick came onto the bed, moving on top of you and caging your body beneath his.

 “These damned dresses,” he muttered with a mix of annoyance and appreciation.

 He moved one hand down over your chest and then your stomach before he bunched up the skirt of the short summer dress, revealing your clothed pussy. You were soaking wet, causing the material of your white panties to be practically transparent. Rick glided two of his long fingers over you, teasing your clit, which caused your back to arch and your hips to buck with desperate need.

 “Please, Alpha…” you whined, unable to wait any longer.

 Rick’s gaze was dark and fiery, showing that he was just as eager, but he still had a lot more control than you did. When he raised the knife still held in his other hand, pointing it down at you, logically you should have been scared.

 But you knew that Rick wouldn’t hurt you, and the deep lust in his gaze reassured you of that fact. He brought the blade down slowly, applying just enough pressure to the material of your dress to cut into it and give him an opening.

 He flung the knife off carelessly after that, letting it clang onto the floor somewhere across the room. His hands were all over you then, as he tore your dress apart, desperate to explore the skin it concealed underneath. His gaze only grew impossibly darker when he saw that you weren’t wearing a bra.

 “Naughty girl,” he chastised you heatedly, his hands moving to squeeze your now exposed breasts.

 “Oh god,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

 His fingers teased your nipples, tugging and stroking them until they were achingly hard. Then you let out a salacious moan as Rick’s head dipped, taking one of the sensitive peaks between his lips, his tongue and teeth tormenting you further.

 Your hips bucked again, and he moved his free hand between your legs, right where you were desperate to be touched. Rick’s attention on your breasts never faltered as his fingers pushed your panties to the side, giving him access to your dripping wet pussy.

 He thrust two fingers into you, sliding in easily due to the amount of slick there. Your body moved wildly, the heat inside of you driving you crazy and sweat coating every inch of your skin. You were desperate for release, felt like you needed it, and Rick was quickly getting you there.

 But then his mood darkened as he pushed his fingers in a little more roughly, while his other hand and his teeth tugged hard on your nipples.

 “You were curled up to another alpha,” he pointed out angrily, pulling back to look you in the eye. “While you were this wet, Omega.”

 “I… I’m sorry,” you cried out, not wanting him to be mad. “I needed you so badly and you weren’t there…”

 “You’re mine,” he reminded you possessively. “This body, this pussy… everything about you is mine.”

 “Yes,” you moaned out instantly, agreeing wholeheartedly. “I’m yours.”

 Rick pressed his body closer to yours, his bare chest coming into contact with your heated skin. His nipples brushed against yours, teasing you both and his eyes fluttered shut with a groan. He rested his forehead against your own, his warm breath fanning out over your lips as his fingers continued their rapid thrusting in and out of your pussy.

 “Show me,” he requested breathlessly, his thumb moving up to rub against your clit. “Cum for me, omega. Show me you’re mine.”

 He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that one perfect spot, while his thumb continued rubbing and flicking against your clit.

 “Fuck,” you whined. “Rick, I… I’m…”

 “Let go, baby,” he murmured soothingly, rubbing his cheek affectionately against yours.

 He pressed down hard against your clit and your body gave him exactly what he wanted. You felt the waves of pleasure overcome you, your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth falling open as a deep moan escaped your lips.

 “Good girl,” he praised, loving the way you tightened around him.

 You saw stars and your mind was in a state of euphoric bliss. Rick trailed kisses along your scent gland while his fingers continued to stimulate you, waiting patiently for you to come down from your high.

 When your eyes lazily fluttered open again and your body settled, you found Rick gazing at you with a mix of emotions. There was still that dark and heated lust in his eyes, but there was also deep care and affection and you thought, that due to the intensity of it, maybe it could have been akin to love.

 He didn’t give you much time to ponder over it though, because he quickly bent his head down and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The burning feeling of your heat had settled temporarily thanks to your orgasm, so you let yourself enjoy the feel of his mouth languidly caressing yours.

 Rick gently pulled his fingers from your pussy, allowing both of his hands to tease your inner thighs. He alternated between squeezing you possessively, his fingers digging into your skin, and lightly caressing you, leaving trails of goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

 His lips, the bottom one so much fuller than the other, enticed your own with their slow and calculated movements. His tongue moved in perfect harmony with your own, leaving you breathless.

 Eventually, his head pulled back and you tried to lift yours too, chasing his mouth to continue the heated kiss. But Rick just bit down on your lower lip, gently tugging on it before he completely moved away, leaning back to take you in with his lustful gaze. The effects of your heat were building up again, demanding more.

 “Rick,” you moaned out. “Please, Alpha, I need you.”

 His eyes fell to the apex of your thighs and his fingers tugged a little at your panties before his impatience won over. Pulling his hands away from you, Rick moved them to his jeans, quickly unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper before tugging them down his hips.

 Then his hands were back on you, pushing your panties further to the side so that your pussy was exposed enough for him. Not wasting a second, Rick pushed forward and thrust into you deeply, almost to the hilt and causing you both to let out desperate moans.

 “Damn it, Omega,” he grit out in pleasure. “You’re so tight, squeezing down on me perfectly.”

 As if in response to his words, your pussy clamped down even harder on his cock, causing his hands to reach for your hips instinctively, gripping them tightly. He kept his hold on you, using it for leverage as he pounded into you over and over and over again, setting a brutal pace.

 “You’re not…” he got out between his thrusts. “Ever gonna… even look… at another alpha… again.”

 He said it like it was a promise, as though he intended to imprint himself somehow on your body so that you were constantly reminded of him. Apparently, he didn’t realize that he’d already pretty much done so.

 “I only want you,” was your response, promising him exactly what he wanted.

 Rick leaned down, kissing you hard. The change in his angle caused him to move deeper and his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves inside you again. You gasped and moaned into his mouth, hips thrashing wildly in desperate need.

 He kept you steady with the hold he still had on you, stopping you from thrusting your hips so high that he would slip out. Instead, he ensured that you felt every inch of his bare cock, the silky texture of the skin brushing against your sensitive walls and driving you closer and closer to the edge.

 He never let up in his forceful thrusts, fucking you hard, deep and fast, until your thoughts drifted away into a mindless haze and the only thing left was Rick and how he made you feel. All the while he kept kissing you, lips claiming yours possessively until yours were swollen and bruised and aching for more.

 With each push into your pussy, the sweat-slicked skin and light hairs on his pelvis brushed against your clit and stimulated you further. You were clinging to his back, nails digging into his skin, but Rick didn’t seem to care.

 Finally, his lips left yours and your eyes opened to see his own lost in a state of ecstasy. He was just as close to cumming as you were, if not closer.

 “’m gonna fill you up, sweetheart,” he promised in a daze, one of his hands moving to rest on your lower stomach. “Fuck my cum into you until your belly’s swollen with my child.”

 “Oh god, Rick,” you moaned with an eagerness you’d never felt before.

 “Gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he continued heatedly, head dipping again to kiss along your neck.

 You nodded fervently, loving the sound of everything he said, but you doubted he noticed, since he was preoccupied by lavishing your scent gland with attention. Rick gave a few more deep and forceful thrusts before the head of his cock hit your cervix and he groaned out desperately.

 His fingers dug into your waist, holding you steady as he came deep inside of you. The warm feel of his cum filling you up and the way his cock throbbed against your tight walls sent you over the edge. You spasmed around him, pussy clenching him even tighter, milking him completely.

 Rick’s teeth grazed against your scent gland, and you tilted your head obediently, offering yourself for him to claim you. But then he pulled his head away and you let out a whine of frustration, not understanding his reluctance.

 His gaze was still addled with lust, but there was an underlying sadness in his eyes that you couldn’t comprehend. When your legs wrapped tighter around him and you squeezed around his cock again, he lowered his head to your shoulder, biting down hard.

 It wasn’t where you wanted or needed him, but the shock of his teeth piercing into your skin and the fact he was still thrusting deeply into you, albeit more slowly, sent you over the edge yet again.

 It was like a second wave of your first orgasm, with the intensity becoming even greater. It was enough for you to lose yourself again, forgetting about your disappointment for a moment and just enjoying the feel of Rick completely surrounding you.

 As your bodies settled, his tongue soothed the bite he’d left on your shoulder and his fingers caressed along the feverish skin of your stomach and waist. Your breaths calmed and you sunk back into the mattress and then he was pulling out of you slowly, careful not to cause any more friction.

 You absentmindedly noticed that he was still completely hard, but your body was spent, and your eyes were droopy, telling you both that you needed some rest. The mixed fluids of his cum and your slick pooled out warmly between your thighs, but you paid it little mind.  

 Instead, you turned tiredly on your side and snuggled up into the sheets. Rick moved behind you, his body fitting against yours like you were two pieces of a puzzle, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

 “Get some rest, ‘mega,” he murmured, nuzzling affectionately into your neck. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 That wasn’t your concern, though. You were upset about him not claiming you, despite the way he was so insistent that you were his. Still, your exhaustion won out for the time being, so you let your eyes fall closed and your body relax against him.

 You’d sort it out later. For now, you just wanted to bask in the afterglow and the warm feel of his body protectively pressed against yours.

When you woke up again, the first thing you noticed was how you were even more feverish than earlier. It was unbearable in a way you’d never experienced before. Your skin felt like it was on fire, as though there was a raging inferno inside of you that couldn’t be soothed.

 Your sweat soaked into the sheets and your fever made you feel slightly delirious, like a haze was clouding your mind. You couldn’t think, only feel and when the fog of sleep finally left, you felt nothing else but Rick and the desperate state of your heat.

 You were on your back now, legs spread wide with Rick’s head buried between them. His hands were gripping your inner thighs, holding you steady while his tongue gave slow, languid licks along your pussy.

 “Alpha…” you moaned, fingers tugging lightly on his hair.

 The scruff of his beard scratched along your thighs, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your wet folds. He flicked his tongue back and forth over your clit, his lips sucking down at the same time and sending you into a frenzy.  

 He already seemed to know your body well and as your pussy clenched, aching for something inside of it, Rick moved his tongue down and away from your clit. His tongue pushed into your dripping core right as his nose brushed against your sensitive nub.

 He fucked you with his tongue, lapping up your slick while his hands squeezed your thighs in a vice-like grip. His hold on you was strong and a little painful, but the way he was showering your pussy with attention made any discomfort fade away.

 Then, Rick moved up again, bringing his mouth back to your clit and his fingers plunged into you instead. He moved them at a quick pace, in and out, curling up with each thrust to stimulate your inner bundle of nerves.

 All the while his tongue stroked against you and then he let out a deep, guttural moan. You were already a squirming, lust addled mess, but when the vibrations reverberating from his throat pulsed against your pussy, the extra simulation made you cum like never before.

 “Rick…” you moaned out in a complete daze.

 You repeated his name like a mantra, over and over as your body sang with its release. He just kept licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until the wild movements of your hips became too frantic and he pulled away.

 He was grinning at you, his gaze heated and devilish, promising that he wasn’t anywhere near done with you yet. As you settled, he moved up your body until his face was just above yours and then he brought his lips to your own in a slow and sensual kiss.

 His tongue moved with precision against yours, reminiscent of what he’d just been doing between your legs, and it made desire pool deep in your belly all over again. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer until his cock was pushing against your entrance.

 “Not yet, ‘mega,” he groaned out, breaking the kiss and rubbing his cheek against yours, scenting you.

 “Please,” you begged, fingers moving down to scratch lightly along his back.

 “You’ve gotta eat first,” he pulled back completely. “You need to drink some water too. I promised I’d take care of you, ‘mega.”

 You were breathing heavily, and you wanted nothing more than to have his cock back inside of you. But your heat was also a little more sated after your last orgasm but that wouldn’t last for very long. So, you relented, sitting up and nodding.

 Rick sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over for his backpack and taking out some of the food and water he’d managed to salvage while you’d all been on the road. You took the water first, taking long sips and letting the cool liquid soothe you.

 His fingers traced light patterns along your legs as he bit into a granola bar, needing to keep up his own strength as well. As your mind cleared, you remembered the bite he’d placed on your shoulder and decided that you needed to ask him about it.

 Remembering his marriage and how he and Lori had never claimed one another, you wondered if he had some kind of aversion to it.

 “Rick?”

 “Hmm?” He looked over at you with a lazy but affectionate smile.

 You didn’t want to tiptoe around it, so you just asked him outright.

 “Why didn’t you claim me?”

 He coughed, like he hadn’t swallowed his last bite properly and looked away from you again.

 “You wanted me to.”

 It was a statement, showing that he had known what you wanted and despite that knowledge, along with all of his words and possessive actions, he still hadn’t done it.

 “I still want you to,” you told him. “Don’t you?”

 He sighed, running a hand through his hair and you watched him worriedly.

 “Rick, I meant it every time I said it. I’m yours. But if you don’t want me to be, then –”

 “I do,” he cut you off earnestly, finally looking at you again. “I just… can’t.”

 “Why?” You asked, trepidation over your relationship washing over you. “Is… is it because of Lori?”

 “No,” he assured you, taking your hands in his. “I mean that I really can’t. I… I tried, with Lori. It never lasted on either of us and I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you. I didn’t want it to push you away. I can’t lose you.”

 His gaze held such raw emotion that you realized it was a deep-seated insecurity for him. It was something he’d been internally struggling with for a long time, and it must have been hard for him to open up to you about it.

 Nevertheless, it was a lot to process. It made the breakdown of his marriage make a lot more sense, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Instead, you found it hard to come to terms with the fact that, from what he was saying, you would never be able to truly claim one another.

 Maybe that was why he was so possessive and adamant about the fact that you belonged to him.

 In the end though, it didn’t really matter to you. Sure, it wasn’t what you’d been expecting your relationship with him to turn out like, but everything with Rick, from the moment you’d met him had just felt right. Like fate or whatever the hell else meant for you to find each other and be together.

 So, as you felt his scent change and his anxiety over your silence fill the room, you were determined to set his worried mind at ease. You got up, climbing into his lap so that you were facing him and stroked your fingers along the short and coarse hairs of his cheek affectionately.

 “I don’t care,” you told him, your gaze holding his.

 “Don’t lie,” he cast his eyes down, but never stopped touching you, holding you close.

 You leant forward, placing soft kisses over his cheeks, his jawline and finally one on his lips before pulling back again.

 “I’m not lying,” you insisted gently. “I want you, whatever that entails. And yes, I do want you to claim me, to bite into my gland over and over again if you have to. I don’t care if it doesn’t stick. I’m yours and I don’t want you to hold back.”

 His eyes met yours with trepidation, his uncertainty clear. But he must have seen the sincerity in your own gaze because his expression softened, and he looked at you with so much adoration you thought you would melt right there in his arms.

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yes,” you promised him.

 And then you brought your lips to his, sealing it with a kiss. You wanted to show him that your desire for him hadn’t wavered and that your words were honest. One of his hands seemed to automatically find one of your hips, keeping you close to him, while the other trailed up and down your back.

 He deepened the kiss and lifted your hips a little. You knew what he wanted so your hand moved down and grasped around his cock, lining it up at your core and pushing back down. His lips left yours as his head fell back with a groan that was filled with lust.

 You had more control in that position, and while he still gripped tightly onto your hips, you set the pace, grinding down onto him.

 “Fuck, baby,” he breathed out, still lost in the ecstasy of it all. “You always feel so good for me.”

 “Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That’s ‘cause you fill me up so well.”

 He started guiding your hips, while his own thrust up and into you, his movements a little more frantic. He’d still been rock hard when you fell asleep and was the same when you woke up. You wondered if his erection had gone down at all due to how desperately he seemed to ache for release.

 He opened his eyes to look at you again and it was like he got lost in the sight of you, with the way you were grinding down onto him and squeezing around his cock. He reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear and his thumb brushed against your cheek.

 “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, gaze still transfixed on you.

 Your cheeks heated up in a faint blush and you looked away, shy from the intense look he was giving you.

 “Hey, don’t do that,” he took hold of your chin, bringing your gaze back to his. “I mean it. Don’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

 You nodded, biting down on your lip, and allowing yourself to get lost in his piercing blue eyes. It was raw and unyielding, the range of emotions in his gaze and you hoped that your own was conveying the same back to him.

 “I can’t hold back much longer,” he admitted softly.

 “I don’t want you to,” was your honest reply.

 He moaned at your admission before flipping your bodies over so that you were on your back again and he was hovering over you. Rick took hold of your waist, making sure he had a steady grip on you before he thrust out nearly all the way and then pounded back into you, right to the hilt. You both let out desperate and guttural sounds at the feeling of him filling you up entirely once again.

 He moved with precise thrusts, but his pace was quick and frenzied. You knew he was close, eager to cum inside you again, because it was clear through his expression and the way his body was tensed up with desire and anticipation.

 You moved one hand down between your thighs, fingers finding your aching clit and your body reacted instantly to the added stimulation. Your pussy contracted down on his cock, squeezing and pushing him to the brink.

 He was pushed right up against your cervix again, not enough for the pressure to be unpleasant, but enough for the insinuation of where his cum would go, to make you insanely turned on.

 Rick looked wild, his blue eyes feral and barely holding onto control. He gave you one last look of trepidation and you just nodded before exposing your neck to him.

 “Please, Alpha,” you begged, voice filled with desperate need.

 That was enough to make his control snap and his head bent down with lightning speed before his teeth sunk into your neck and the first spurts of his cum filled your fertile womb. Simultaneously, he lapped up the warm blood that spilled from your throat and your pussy milked every last drop of his hot cum deep inside you.

 The mixed stimulation all throughout your body made another orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave. You were clenching down so hard around his cock that you thought it might be painful for him, but Rick didn’t seem to mind. All of his attention seemed to be on your mating gland, soothing the sore skin like he was in a trance.

 You realized, as your body settled and your orgasm calmed down, that suddenly you felt so perfectly whole. As though for your entire life you had been missing half of yourself until that moment. You weren’t as unbearably hot anymore and your unbearably fevered skin seemed to relax until it just felt like you were in a regular heat.

 Rick’s fingertips glided over your lower stomach absentmindedly and as the blood flow from your neck slowed to a stop, he pressed countless kisses against the fresh mark. You didn’t care, in that moment, if he had to mark you time and time again. It felt too good and right to you, having his claim on your body.

 When his slow and languid thrusts began to pick up again, you realized that he was still hard. You weren’t complaining though, because your body was clearly willing and eager for more. After what felt like hours but was likely only a couple of minutes, Rick peeled his lips away from your neck and pulled back to look at you.

 “Feeling okay?” He asked, never once letting up in his powerful thrusts.

 “No,” you grinned up at him, not missing the way he raised an eyebrow in question. “’Okay’ would be a severe understatement.”

 He let out a light laugh, and you could tell he was relieved by it. Then you hooked one leg around his waist, pushing a little with your hips and he seemed to realize what you wanted. Rick flipped you both over, settling back into the bed and letting you adjust yourself above him.

 You ground down on him again, circling your hips and reveling in the way he stretched you out and filled you up. With each time his cock thrust deep into you, it pushed his cum further inside. You could hear the sounds of your mixed fluids every time he entered you, and it was sinfully good.

 You loved watching him stretched out beneath you, allowing you to fuck yourself on top of him and the way he was getting lost in the feel of you. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the pillows, and he was letting out quiet moans and groans, showing you what you were doing to him.

 You leaned forward, entwining his fingers with yours to steady yourself before you moved your hips a little harder and faster, bouncing on top of his cock and making you both wild with desire.

 “I wanna mark you,” you moaned out, still sliding up and down his hard and thick cock. “Please, Alpha, I need it. I need to claim you as mine too.”

 His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you with hesitation again, just like he had before he claimed you. But then his gaze fell down to your neck, to your mating gland which must have still been swollen and red, with the possessive mark of his bite standing out and showing who you belonged to.

 Once his eyes settled on that his features softened, and he looked back at you with a nod.

 You didn’t hesitate then, your hands leaving his as you leaned down closer to him. Your fingers ran through his hair, and you nuzzled against his neck, rubbing your nose and cheek along his gland to scent him.

 Rick gripped your hips, making sure your pace never faltered as your mouth worshiped the gland you were about to bite into so you could claim him as your own. You could hear his moans getting more frequent and desperate, his lips right beside your ear.

 When he thrust deep into you, holding you tightly against him, you let your teeth sink into his skin.

 “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips stuttering from the intensity of it all.

 He came hard for the third time that day, stuffing you just as full as the other two times. He was insatiable, his stamina doing more than just rivaling anything you’d ever experienced. Trickles of his blood pooled into your mouth, the metallic taste filling your senses. Just like Rick had done, you licked and sucked against his gland, soothing the sensitive skin and attempting to stop the blood flow.

 “Baby…” he breathed out, his voice betraying how turned on he was. “I can’t stop. You’re driving me crazy.”

 As you continued to suck against the fresh mating bite you’d made on his neck, the blood slowed to a stop, and you pulled back. Shifting slightly, you realized he was still fully hard.

 “Again?” You asked, a little incredulous, but no less enthused.

 He didn’t answer, just lifted your hips until his cock slid out of you. You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped you at the empty feeling it caused. But then he was getting up and giving you a look that conveyed his deep-seated and still yet unsated lust.

 “On your knees,” he ordered, moving behind you.

 It was an alpha command, telling you exactly what he wanted. So, you lifted your body, holding yourself on all fours and presented yourself to him enthusiastically. He let out a low chuckle at your eagerness, but you knew that he was just as lost in his desire for you.

 You choked on nothing but air when he thrust back into you, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you tightly. It was the best kind of pain, with how tender your walls were but how good it felt, nonetheless. One of Rick’s hands sat on the small of your back, while the other moved up your spine, fingers tickling your skin until he grabbed hold of your hair, pulling your head back slightly.

 “Alpha,” you moaned out, lost deep in the throes of the pleasure he was giving you.

 “That’s it, baby,” he coaxed. “Let me hear you.”

 “Fuck, I can’t take much more,” you cried out desperately. “But you feel so good.”

 He gave a harder, more forceful thrust into you, making you whine with need.

 “You love my cock, baby?” He demanded to know. “You need it?”

 “Yes,” you moaned out. “I only need you.”

 “That’s right,” he said, satisfied with your answer. “And I’m the only one that’s ever gonna know this tight, sweet pussy.”

 “Mmm,” you agreed, nodding your head but unable to form anymore words.

 “You want my cum again, ‘mega?” He asked. “Deep inside you?”

 “Yes, Rick, please!”

 The sound of his hips smacking against yours filled the small cabin, the continuous slapping together of sweaty skin a tell-tale sign of the illicit and sinful things he was doing to you. He let go of his grip on your hair, bringing his hands back to their familiar place on your hips and held you steady before he groaned and came once again.

 Your upper body sank down into the bed as your own orgasm wracked through your body. Your pussy spasmed and your hips moved wildly, but Rick made sure to keep you wrapped around his cock, so that you were milking him dry for the fourth time that day.

 You both stayed like that for a while, breaths panting, and bodies relaxed. Finally, you felt him soften inside you and as much as his relentless fucking had turned you on, you were glad for the sign of some respite. Rick slowly pulled out of you, and you let your lower body relax before turning onto your side.

 He came to lay down as well, facing you and looking just as tired as you felt. He reached out to brush his fingers along your cheek, eyes already drooping before he dropped his hand to caress against your mating gland. The bite he’d left was sore and sensitive, but his touch didn’t irritate you.

 You snuggled closer against him and then he wrapped him arms around you, laying on his back and resting your head on his chest. It wasn’t long before you both drifted back off to sleep, both of your bodies spent and sated for the time being.

The next time that the fog of sleep drifted away, and you woke up, you were still in Rick’s arms, and he was absentmindedly stroking his fingers up and down your back. Tilting your head to look up at him, you saw that he was deep in thought, his brow furrowed like something was bothering him.  

 “Hey,” you reached out, touching his cheek so he’d look at you. “Everything okay?”

 “Yeah, just…” he trailed off, gaze falling to your mating gland. “Something feels different.”

 You realized instantly that he was talking about the claim he’d left on you.

 “Good or bad?” You asked, a little concerned.

 “Good, I think,” his eyes returned to yours. “But I hate that it’s only temporary.”

 “Rick,” you sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I already told you; I don’t care if we have to do it countless times. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Nothing can change that except us.”

 He nodded but still seemed upset about it. You figured it was something you could come back to later though and watched as he moved to get up.

 “You wanna shower?” He asked over his shoulder, changing the topic quickly.

 “Desperately,” you sighed. “But that’s a luxury one can’t afford when the world ends.”

 He moved a little more to face you again, lips turning up into a grin.

 “This place is solar powered,” he explained, reaching out for one of your hands.

 “You’re kidding,” you lit up at the revelation.

 His smile just widened, and he squeezed your hand.

 “Come on, baby, I’ll go with you.”

 That just sweetened the deal. Warm, running water along with soap and shampoo was one thing, but showering with Rick? The symptoms of your heat began rising within you once again at the thought.

 He led you to the small bathroom and maybe before civilization fell you would’ve lamented at the small, tight space of the shower. But such things were luxuries now and you couldn’t wait to feel the water trickling down your skin.

 Neither one of you had clothes to worry about, so Rick turned the knobs of the shower and happiness filled you at the sight of hot, running water. It was a tight squeeze, but you stepped in beside him and he moved out of the way to let you enjoy the water first.

 It was heaven; the feel of it running through your hair and down over your body. Rick picked up a bottle of body wash from the shelf and squirted some out onto his hands before lathering it up. One of his hands fell to your hip, rubbing the soap over your stomach and thighs, while the other squeezed one of your breasts.

 “Rick…” you sighed happily, your head falling against the shower wall behind you.

 His touch was gentle, teasing you a little but he still kept his primary goal as cleaning you of all the dirt and grime and the remnants of incredible sex. Your nipples hardened as his thumbs brushed over them and your pussy ached to be touched again.

 But Rick stayed focused, scrubbing the soap along your body until it washed away, and you felt cleaner than you had in over a week. Then he turned you around, his fingers running through your wet hair and his nails scraping over your scalp. It was relaxing and his touch conveyed the deep care he held for you.

 You didn’t notice him reach for the shampoo bottle, but when he massaged it into your hair your eyes closed in bliss. He was being so gentle and affectionate with you and your inner omega loved it.

 Eventually, you turned to rinse out your hair and then Rick stepped underneath the water, and you were eager to return the favor. Your movements were less slow and had much more devious intentions behind them.

 You ran your hands over the expanse of his chest, the lathered-up soap spreading across his skin. He watched through hooded eyes as you moved your touch down to his lower abdomen, fingers gliding softly over the light hairs there.

 Then you got down on your knees, eager to have his long, thick cock in your mouth again. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, but he remained silent, waiting in anticipation for you to make your move.

 You got him to break the silence that had settled around you when your lips wrapped around his hardened length and a deep groan of pleasure escaped his throat. His grip on your hair tightened and he thrust into your mouth, getting his cock deeper inside you.

 A moan sounded deep in your throat, and you began bobbing your head up and down along his cock with enthusiasm, eager to taste his cum again. You sucked down on him and teased him with your tongue.

 It gave you a deep sense of satisfaction to know you could make him come undone and when the movement of his hips faltered slightly and all you could hear was his desperate moaning, you knew that he was already close.

 Using one hand to cup and tease his balls and the other to grab the back of his thigh and keep him close, you pushed your head down further, bringing the head of his cock to the back of your throat.

 “Fuck… sweetheart…” he groaned, barely managing to get the words out.

 You felt the full length of him pulsate as he pushed all the way in and then his cum was spurting down your tight throat. You took it all, relishing in the way he clung to you and kept your mouth wrapped around him.

 When his hands eventually relaxed around your head and you were able to pull your mouth off him, you looked up at Rick with an amused smile.

 “Really?” You asked, before giving another quick glance to his cock that was still right in front of your face.

 You shouldn’t have been surprised by that point, over the fact that he was still rock hard. But his stamina amazed you. It wasn’t something you were complaining about though because your heat left you filled with just as much desire.

 “Come here,” he said gently, lifting you up to stand.

 He brought you close, so that your chests were pressed together, and he lifted a hand to gently stroke along your mating gland.

 “You’re perfect,” he whispered softly, eyes filled with honesty. “You know that?”

 “You’re perfect to me,” you answered, your own gaze soft and affectionate. “I know that much at least.”

 He gave you a small smile and then his lips were on yours, now so familiar in the way they felt to you and the way they seemed to work expertly against your own. His desperate need from earlier had settled and now Rick seemed intent on lavishing you not only with pleasure, but with soft affection too.

 He moved you back gently, until your body was resting against the wall of the shower and then he was lifting one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist.

 “I need more,” he admitted against your lips, his length rubbing up and down your slit.

 “It’s okay,” you told him breathlessly. “I do too.”

 He pulled his hips back slightly and then he was back inside you, filling you up perfectly once again. Your pussy was still slightly sore from how many times he’d fucked you just on that day alone, but it was nothing compared to the sense of fulfillment he gave you as he moved his hips back and forth.

 Rick was kissing you again, one hand tangled in your hair and the other squeezing your ass, keeping you close to him. His thrusts weren’t as fast or frantic; he fucked into you with precise and deep movements, taking the time to enjoy the way you felt around him.

 It was loving and intimate, showing that he didn’t just see you as an omega to get through his rut with. He was proving to you that you meant more than that to him, and it made your emotions swirl with happiness and the sense of feeling truly content.

 You clung tightly to him, one hand pressed against his back and the other at the nape of his neck. Rick trailed his lips down to your jawline, pressing kisses along your skin while he kept slowly fucking deep into you. Then, he moved down to your throat, and it wasn’t long before he sought out your mating gland.

 He kissed along the bite mark he’d left, and then affectionately nuzzled against it. He was too lost in the haze of his rut and the feel of your pussy wrapped snugly around him to notice the change in your scent. The way it was perfectly mingled with his own and gave a clear message that you had been claimed. That you were his omega.

 Without that realization, he kept lavishing the bite with attention and eventually his teeth scraped along it, teasing you to the edge.

 “Rick…” you moaned, instinctively squeezing down even harder on him.

 It was exactly the friction he needed, because then he was cumming deep inside your pussy and you loved the fact that it still felt just as good as when he’d first done it. The intensity of it seemed to be too much for him because he sank his teeth into your gland a second time, opening up the wound and claiming you all over again.

 Your own orgasm ripped through you, and you clung even tighter to him, keeping his head buried against your neck. His lips and tongue soothed your agitated skin, and you slowly came back to yourself, the cool tiles of the shower wall behind you giving your body some relief from the heat you felt all over.

 After a while, Rick’s lips left your throat, and he pulled back to look at you. His gaze was soft and tender, conveying the depths of his feelings for you. When his forehead fell down to rest against your own, you realized that he wasn’t done yet.

 “You’re insatiable,” you quipped, squeezing down slightly on his still hardened length.

 “I’m not the only one,” he retorted, his voice gruff but no less playful.

 His lips captured yours once again and you let yourself get lost in him. If this was how all of your heats would be in the future, then there would be nothing left to complain about or dread. You briefly wondered why you’d been so worried over your inability to continue taking suppressants before your mind became clouded and all you could think of, yet again, was Rick.

Your heat was over after two days. It was the shorter than you’d expected, and you wondered, with a small, devious smile if Rick had fucked it out of you. His stamina never let up and by the end you were a sated, but exhausted mess.

 Your dress was ruined, but Rick had packed some spare clothes and you returned to the rest of the group in one of his shirts and a pair of your own jeans. And he still seemed to have the need to touch you, to keep you close. You didn’t mind, but the way that the eyes of the others lingered on you both when you returned was a little disconcerting. Sure, heats and ruts were a natural part of the world, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

 Rick and Daryl exchanged a look and then a nod, silently conveying that Rick’s earlier display, when you had both gone into rut and heat, respectively, was forgiven and forgotten. Then, after you both came back, the whole group set out on the road again.

 Two weeks had passed since then, and you often found yourself absentmindedly touching the claiming bite Rick had placed on your neck. Sometimes, your gaze would also linger on the one you left on him.

 It was confusing, because neither of them had shown any sign of truly healing. They had healed to some degree, in the normal way, with the redness around them fading and the skin no longer feeling agitated. But they weren’t fading away and once you were both no longer distracted, you and Rick realized that your claims over one another had stuck, and you were truly mated to each other.

 So, that was how you found yourselves talking to your father, with Rick asking if the older man might know what it meant. He was happy and relieved by it, but no less confused.

 “I looked into it,” Hershel told Rick. “Before we lost the farm, like I said I would.”

 You glanced between them, a little surprised by the fact that your father seemed to have known before you did about Rick’s inability to claim Lori and vice versa. But you stayed silent, interested in what he had to say.

 “We have a book, in our family,” your father revealed. “It keeps a record of omegas and alphas in our line that mated with each other. Some omegas in our family tree mated differently than others, though.”

 “What do you mean?” You asked.

 You’d never heard of that book before, and you were surprised to only learn of its existence now.

 “There are a few omegas in our ancestry where their bodies would reject attempts to claim them. The records that have been kept show that only a particular alpha, their true mate, could actually claim those omegas.”

 “True mates?” Rick asked in disbelief. “That… that stuff’s just fairy tales, stories for kids. It’s not real.”

 Hershel just gave him a look, one that conveyed his lack of amusement with Rick brushing off his words.

 “The evidence is in the two of you,” he continued. “You weren’t able to share a true mating bond until now, Rick. You’re the only alpha able to command Y/N… I’m sure there are other signs I’m not aware of and that I don’t want to know about.”

 Rick looked taken aback by your father’s words and you felt just as surprised.

 “It doesn’t matter, in the end,” Hershel said, placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “You were able to claim each other. That’s all that matters.”

 Rick just gave a nod, still a little stunned and then Hershel walked off, leaving you both alone. The idea left you feeling uneasy though, and you bit down on your bottom lip, looking off to the side.

 “Hey, you okay?” Rick asked, reaching out to take your hand in his and picking up on the change in your mood instantly.

“Yeah, I just… it’s a lot,” you admitted. “I mean, what if the connection we felt before we claimed each other was just… some weird thing like fate that was pushing us together? I’ve never even considered true mates to actually be a real thing, so I don’t know how it’s supposed to work, but I just… I don’t want those feelings to be fake or forced… I don’t want the way I feel about you to not be real somehow…”

 “Y/N,” he took hold of your chin gently and brought your gaze to his. “Whatever this is between us, however you want to label it, it’s real. I don’t know about all the other stuff, but I know how I feel about you. You don’t ever have to worry about that.”

 His words caused relief to rush through you and you nodded, giving him a small smile. He returned it before pulling you closer to him and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was soft and affectionate, and his lips moved languidly against your own. All of your doubts left your mind and only one thing remained – the knowledge that you both belonged to one another, fully and irreversibly.

 And with both of your mating bites sitting proudly on your necks, showing that you had claimed one another, there was no way for anyone to either doubt or deny it.

 Next Work in this Series

Taglist:

@bking4000, @starsaroundmyscxrss​ (sorry but the tag wouldn’t work for one of you!

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#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes/reader #rick grimes x f!reader #alpha rick grimes #alpha!rick grimes x omega!reader #omega reader #fem reader #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes smut #twd smut #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #rick grimes/you #rick grimes x you

[kitsmits]

New Chapter of Mono no Aware is UP!

…and I totally forgot to post about it here, lol. Anywho, Chapter 26 is up on FF.net and Ao3! Check below the “Read More” line for an excerpt…

ALSO! Keep an eye out for a “bonus” scene coming out exclusively on Tumblr soon! It’s a scene that didn’t quite fit into the next chapter tone-wise, but I wanted to share it nonetheless :)

“You need to eat,” Kisuke insisted when he found yet another cold, untouched bowl of rice porridge by her mat. Kaede was laid on her back, her head leaning slightly to the side so that her listless gaze was fixed on the wall away from him. Kisuke pushed the bowl closer to her, the dull scrape of the dish against the floor harsh against the eerie silence of the shack. “I can warm this up, if that’ll help.”

He didn’t expect an answer, and that was part of the problem. He didn’t expect anything from her in this state, as though that should be the norm - but he couldn’t allow this to become their reality, not after everything they’d both been through.

Frustration began to boil over. What had it all been for?! All those years, all his dedication and loyalty…all undone with a lie. Soul Society, the institution he’d given his entire existence to, had turned their backs on him, on the Hollowfication victims…but was he really surprised by that? After all, how often had they tried to turn their backs on her ? He’d kept them at bay, insisting over and over again that she was far more useful alive. He’d fucking raised her, trained her, taught her as best he could to survive in their harsh reality. He’d made her strong so that she’d withstand whatever they threw at her.

But he hadn’t prepared her for him.

“You’re better than this,” he whispered, barely aware that he was speaking aloud.

He spied a twitch around her eyes, a tensing in her jaw - the first real acknowledgment that she was even listening. He grabbed onto it.

“You are better than this,” he repeated. “What he did to them wasn’t your fault. I know you, Kaede. I know that none of that was you.”

Her chest rose and fell faster; he could hear her breath become quick and shallow.

“Stop punishing yourself for what you had no control over,” Kisuke demanded, and he knew the words were as much for himself as for her. “We can’t do anything about the past; we can only move forward and work with what we have. And that begins with letting your body heal. So eat .”

Kaede moved - but it was only to roll slowly on her side, away from him. A dismissal.

Kisuke’s hands formed fists at his sides. “You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. But I did not work so hard to keep you alive just so you could destroy yourself!”

His voice rose as he spoke, tight with all of the frustration and grief he’d been pushing back for days. Kaede’s shoulders hunched against his harsh tone. For a moment, Kisuke felt like he was looking at the small, frail, lost little child again, and the pain of it pierced his heart.

“If you won’t do it for yourself,” he said in a softer tone still tense with emotion, “then do it for me. Live. Choose to live, if only so I know my efforts weren’t wasted.”

#mono no aware #bleach fanfiction #new chapter #writing update #sosuke aizen #aizen x oc #kisuke urahara

[kirk-says-wah]

Hi, could I have a request please. James/Dave.

James is drunk and hooks up with a very attractive red head boy at a party. The next couple of days he goes around college campus trying to find who the boy is. All he knows is that the boy is a red head with beautiful lips lol. I'll let you come up with how he finds out who Dave is.

Thank you so much for the ask!!

You can read it under the cut or click here to read on ao3 🧡

He wakes up with a kick to the shin.

He groans and swats at the offender, burying his face in his pillow as his head threatens to explode.

“Get up, fucker.”

Lars’s voice alone makes James contemplate breaking his bedside lamp over the smaller man’s head, but it’s way too much effort for his splitting skull to manage, and he doesn’t think he can afford another lamp right now.

“Go away,” James says, muffled into his bed. He’d much rather spend the rest of the day nursing his hangover in peace, but knows full well that Lars will probably take advantage of that and draw a dick on his head with permanent marker.

What he doesn’t expect is to be dragged off the edge of his bed by his ankle, and he hits this floor with a resounding thud. Lars may be small, but he’s stronger than he looks. Bastard.

James rolls sideways, manages to sweep his leg, and Lars lands flat on his ass, whacking the back of his head off of the bed post.

“Fuck,” Lars wheezes, lying next to James on the floor, moving to prop his head up on James’s hip.

“Why am I up?” James asks, staring at the smoke-stained ceiling, trying desperately to ignore the hammer in his skull.

“Because,” Lars says with a deep breath. “I wanted to know why you ditched me with Kirk last night.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Lars scoffs, prods a finger into the side of James’s stomach.

“Did you not see him last night? He was fucking wasted, man. Cliff dared him to finish the rest of the vodka doing shots of some chick.”

“Sounds fun, dude,” James smirks, ignoring Lars trying to wiggle onto his front with the loudest groans possible.

“He threw up in her mouth. Cliff had to carry his ass home bc he couldn’t stop crying.”

James barks a laugh, even if his head protests.

“So, where were you? And don’t fucking change the subject again,” Lars says, resting his chin on his hands facing James.

James sighs, sets his eyes back on the ceiling, tries to think back to the previous night.

A flash of red hair and perfect lips come to mind, and he frowns as he tries to make sense of the memory.

Lars must take the silence as defiant, as he prods him in the shoulder and says “you got laid, didn’t you?”

Lithe body against his own, rutting against each other, breathless and desperate.

James chokes on air.

“No.”

Yes.

“Yes you did!” Lars shouts. James cringes at the sound.

“So, who was it?”

James remembers his legs around hips, mewling into the pillow as he’s fucked relentlessly, pink lips suckling at the juncture of his neck. He remembers a sharp jaw and dark, hazel eyes; a soft laugh that has his stomach fluttering. He’s sure they told him their name, but he was so many beers deep at the time he likely forgot.

He coughs.

“I er… don’t remember their name.”

Lars gasps, all dramatic like.

“It’s not like that,” James quickly butts in, aware that Lars probably thinks he didn’t even ask. Which he did.

“He did tell me. I just don’t remember.”

“This is what you get for fucking people drunk.”

“You do it all the time.”

Lars shrugs. “At least I remember who the fuck I did it with.”

James’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t remember the last time Lars got laid and told him about it, which means he’s not fucked anyone in a while. Which is definitely not true.

“Why are you here this early? You don’t even live here,” James says, liking the flustered red that flares over Lars’s cheeks.

“Well, someone had to look after Kirk.”

James just smiles knowingly, but decides it’s best not to comment.

“Right.”

Lars moves to stand, uses James’s night stand to haul himself onto unsteady feet.

“So, are you gonna see them again?”

James sits up, stretching a little, feeling his back crack along his spine.

“I would if I could remember his fucking name.”

Lars laughs, kicks at the cans strewn across James’s bedroom floor.

“Well, give me a clue and I’ll hunt them down. Campus can’t be that big.”

James sniffs, rubbing a knuckle under his nose.

“About my height, red hair, likes metal.”

“Wow, that narrows it down.”

James flick him in the shin.

“He’s got hazel eyes. And I’m pretty sure he said he plays guitar.”

Lars answers with a small huh, hauling James onto his feet when the blonde holds up a hand.

“Guess you’ve got some work to do.”

James sighs, pressing two fingers into his eyes.

“My head’s killing me.”

Lars offers no sympathy, but does tell him there’s tylenol on Kirk’s bedside table.

“I’ve got to go to class,” Lars states as he grabs his bag from outside Kirk’s door. There’s soft snores still coming from the other side, and James doesn’t miss the lingering affection that softens Lars’s cheeks at the sound.

“I would wish you luck, but you’ve never been good with love so I won’t hold my breath.”

James stifles a gag, splutters into a coughing fit before spitting out a what?

Lars looks mildly amused, shrugging his bag over his shoulder.

“You’re the one that told me the colour of his eyes.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” James protests, though he won’t deny the way his chest disintegrates into a gooey mess at the thought of the night before.

“If you say so,” Lars says with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t pick on me I’m ill,” James pouts, rubbing at his eyes again.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Hey, I’m not the one trying to hide fucking my best friend.”

Now that shuts Lars up, his face turning a deep red as his mouth opens and closes like a fish on land.

James feels a laugh bubble into his throat. Lars squints.

“Whatever, loverboy. I’ll be back at 2. Try not to die.”

“I can look after myself, y’know,” James says, crossing his arms.

Lars doesn’t answer, instead blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he leaves through the front door.

James leans his head back against the wall, the face of last night’s adventure still stamped into his mind.

He wonders how the fuck he’s meant to find him without a name. His best bet is the music block, though he’s not sure if the guy plays guitar as a hobby or for his major.

He decides, fuck it; manages to wrangle on some fresh clothes and rinse the alcohol off his breath before creeping into Kirk’s room.

It’s an absolute mess in there, which makes it extremely hard to manoeuvre himself in the dark because Kirk’s got them stupid blackout blinds so that he can hibernate in the summer.

He manages to get to his bedside table, only standing on a few things that he can’t fucking see, before glancing over towards the bed.

Kirk’s still snoring, rather loudly now that James is stood next to him, though only his curls are visible from underneath the duvet.

James just rolls his eyes, sifts through the pile of crap on the night stand until he finds the tylenol, popping a few out before sneaking back out of the room.

He swallows the tablets down with a leftover bottle of bud he finds on the kitchen side before he grabs his bag and his phone, and leaves in hopes of finding the boy stuck in his mind.

— —

He goes to the music block first, mostly because he’s in there a lot, tracks down a few people he’s aware of that are playing in bands around campus.

He finds a guy called Gar sat behind a drum kit, a mess of blonde hair and a leather waistcoat that tucks over a bullet belt. James has seen him around, mostly thrashing out a drum beat in one of the music studios by himself to get practice in. James admires the dedication, wonders if Lars should meet up with him sometime.

“Do you know a dude, red hair and plays guitar?”

Gar rests on his drum stool, cross his arms and lifts an eyebrow. James feels stupid.

“About your height?”

James nods, thumbs at the loops on his jeans.

“It’s probably Dave. I haven’t seen him in days.”

Dave. Yeah that sounds familiar.

“Do you know where he could be?”

Gar shrugs, tests the hi-hat.

“Beats me, you’ll have to find Junior.”

“Junior?”

“David,” Gar clarifies, twiddling his drum sticks between his fingers. “He’s probably playing football. He’s the only player with a ponytail, you won’t miss him.”

“Right,” James says, a little miffed that he’s going to have to find someone else. “Thanks,” he says anyway, manages to crack a smile.

Gar just smiles back before breaking back out into whatever song he was practicing.

— —

He spots a ponytail on the field straight away, watching it bob around between the other players.

James feels awkward, stood by the bleachers in a metal t-shirt and blonde wavy hair past his shoulders. He sits on the first row, momentarily reverting back to the shyness from his youth. He bites his lip as he watches on, trying his best not to look too out of place, until the whistle blows and half time is called.

The footballers jog over, grabbing water and chatting amongst themselves. James only feels brave enough to walk over there because he’s absolutely, positively dying to see Dave again.

“Hey, you’re Junior, right?” he says, approaching the tall guy with the blonde ponytail.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Junior says, downing a bottle of water.

James swallows, feeling his nerves start to rake at his throat.

“I was looking for Dave and Gar said you’d know where he is.”

“Mustaine? Nah dude, sorry. He’s not been to most of his classes this week. He’s flying under the radar again.”

James lets his shoulders slump with disappointment, toeing at the grass.

“Does he do that a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Junior shrugs, wiping excess water off of his chin. “He has a tendency to go rogue. It’s a Dave thing, he likes to be alone.”

“Oh,” is all James can say, and doesn’t that just make him feel foolish. Not for one second has he contemplated whether Dave would even want to see him. He sighs, rubs his fist against his cheek.

“Thanks anyway,” he says, not noticing the quizzical looks Junior shoots him as he turns around.

— —

It’s three o’clock by the time he gets home.

He finds Kirk strewn across the couch, his head in Lars’s lap as they watch the tv. He looks half-dead, face a sickly green as he mushes his cheek against Lars’s thigh. Lars is gently running his fingers through his curls, eyes intently flicking between the tv and the boy on his lap.

As soon as James walks in, Lars looks up with a wide grin.

“So, did you find him?”

James drop his back, slumps into the ragged arm chair opposite.

“No.”

At this angle, he realises Kirk’s dozing softly, eyes opening and closing as he falls in and out of sleep. It does nothing to quieten the volume of Lars’s voice though.

“Well, did you at least find out his name?”

James picks at a loose thread on the arm rest.

“Dave Mustaine, I think.”

“I know him.”

It’s Kirk that pipes up, and James frowns.

“He’s in my art class. Likes to beat people up for looking at him wrong.”

“He sounds fun,” Lars says, amused, moving to run his fingers over the outline of Kirk’s side profile.

“He’ll probably still be there, y’know.”

“Where?”

James is sitting forward now, all thoughts of Dave not wanting to see him momentarily forgotten.

Kirk yawns, winces, then snuggles further into Lars’s lap.

“Art class. It doesn’t finish until half four.”

“You’ve got a class on right now?” Lars practically shrieks, making Kirk recoil at the sound.

“I really don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna pass anything.”

Kirk just smiles lazily, and James knows that if they would just come out to him as a couple, they would be exchanging sickly sweet kisses.

“What room is it?” James asks, glancing at the clock as he grabs his bag.

Kirk mumbles something into Lars’s leg.

“What?”

“Room 10A,” Lars says, repeating Kirk’s answer.

James nods and leaves quickly, though obviously not quick enough to avoid Lars shouting ‘use condoms’ as he shuts the door.

— —

He’s never been to the art building before, so it takes him a while to find the right room.

His nerves start to creep up on him, twisting his stomach in knots, and he feels like he’s in high school all over again.

It’s stupid really; he’s already slept with the guy. He shouldn’t be this nervous to speak to him.

He waits outside the classroom, passes the time by scrolling through Instagram and texting Cliff, before finally people start leaving.

He spots a halo of strawberry-red hair, and hazel eyes are quick to meet his own.

A familiar warmth tugs at his stomach and he smiles. Dave blinks, and smiles back, walking over to him.

“So, I’m guessing you enjoyed last night,” Dave says. His eyes are almost unbelieving, and James hopes he’s not made a mistake meeting him again.

“I er… wanted to see you again,” he stammers, cursing at himself when Dave’s grin twist smugly.

“I wanted to ask if maybe you want to get a drink sometime.”

Dave blinks, looks taken aback, the smile on his face momentarily dropping.

“What?”

James feels his stomach drop through his ass, and he fumbles for a reply.

“I mean we don’t have to-, I just thought maybe-“

“No, I’m just confused,” Dave interrupts, face pulling into a bewildered frown.

James’s eyebrows pull taught.

“What? Why?”

“You don’t just want to fuck me? You want to actually take me out?”

Dave is still looking at him, and James is unsure what the best reply is.

He settles on the truth and says yeah, hoping he won’t end up being knocked about like those kids Kirk was talking about.

Dave doesn’t move, but his face softens.

“Oh,” he says, his lips tugging upwards. “I’d like that.”

James practically beams, his chest feels like it might burst.

“Can I have your number? It was a real pain trying to hunt you down,” he says with a laugh.

“I already gave you it,” Dave replies, pointing at James’s jacket pocket. “I left it in there.”

He’s had it this whole time?

He mentally face palms, and gives Dave a meek smile as he pulls out the piece of paper from his pocket.

“Text me your address and I’ll come pick you up later,” Dave says, flashing a toothy grin, before closing the gap between them and pressing a chaste kiss to James’s lips.

James’s voice doesn’t cooperate, too caught up on the feeling of Dave’s lips on his own again, so he just nods dumbly.

“See you later, James,” Dave says, gives a pink-cheeked smile, before heading for the exit.

James doesn’t know how this day can get any better.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #james/dave #asks

[hourcat]

hey I was reading your obj/Eli stuff (I know it’s been years) and I was wondering a couple things…

how did u get into them?

how do you write a ship when no one else is - like what motivates u?

how do u feel about them now??

I want to say okay they are amazingly written etc the characterization GOD keebevh but personally I always feel bittersweet when in a small ship fandom and quite sad when there are no longer any works for years. and gosh I shipppp it so much

oh my god. my love. hello!!! i literally did not even realize people still ventured back in n the nfl rpf archives to see yingyang!verse 🥺🥺 im so touched 🫶 and am so so happy to answer ur questions!!!! i woke up earlier than normal, checked my inbox n read this ask, and could not stop thinking abt it when i tried to go back to sleep, lol. so i'll put em under a read more bc i get the feeling im gonna be rambly

how did u get into them?

by watching the games, honestly. LOL. i always enjoyed their relationship on the field (eli threw more touchdowns to odell than anyone else in his sixteen year career, which is an insane fact considering they only played together for like....five of those years) and as a giants fan obviously i was like “YES I WANT FIVE MORE OF THOSE LITTLE BLONDE BITCHES” because it was so, so fun to watch them.

but what drove me to shipping them romantically was a moment i first caught after the giants/dolphins game in 2015. the giants won (something they RARELY do, especially during the O years) and like always, at the end of the broadcast, the camera kind of meanders around the field to catch some post-game shots. and i saw eli and odell huddled real close together. i couldn’t figure out what they were doing but i knew it was kind of sus u know. upon further investigation (aka me desperately searching youtube for game footage) i found it.

this.

and that’s where it really started. QBs always have really intimate relationships with their WRs when they’ve got good on-field chemistry and these two were truly, truly no exception.

how do you write a ship when no one else is - like what motivates u?

honestly i would say it was hard but tbh? it wasn’t hard at all. when you love a pairing enough and you SEE what they are enough, it’s easy to write because it’s all you think about. you know? i had a good little mini-circle around me about them which helped me generate the ideas, and i have always craved attention and validation so of course i was gonna post it to ao3 even if no one else cared. i wrote SO much more than the yyverse content up there, too, but i was terribly afraid of the way i’d put eli/odell on the filters section singlehandedly so i stopped lol. it all went to my e/o fic library archive on here (@eoverse).

it also made it so much better when people who DIDN’T care about them suddenly did because of my fics?? which was SUCH motivation, too. being the one to open someone’s eyes like that is a special privilege imo. it’s power but in like...a tender kind of way. like holding someone’s hand and bringing them into the light. i was so addicted to that feeling.

how do u feel about them now??

oh, they devastate me. for a while i was so mad at odell after he got traded because it felt like he left me (and eli, ESPECIALLY, considering the fact that eli didn’t even know he got traded until ESPN announced it like he rest of us. dave gettleman i am in your fucking walls) and it kind of ended on a sour note. they didn’t talk to each other for a while. they never won anything substantial together which just felt like a deeper knife to the gut.

and then i moved on. and discovered that eli is actually rearranging the guts of the quarterback who replaced him after retirement (the elidj agenda is real and insane and you should not ask me about it because i have written, if possible, MORE about them than i did e/o) and for a while, kind of forgot. but my love for eli/odell never really faded, i don’t think. it’s nostalgia. i miss when odell was young. i miss when eli played. i miss how they hugged every pre-game, i miss how they would bump helmets tenderly after every touchdown, i miss the weird little sus quotes like “take me home, 10″ because who says that. who.

and now with odell potentially interested in coming back to the giants after all these years i’m like....this is going to be like tearing open an old wound, huh. they were my whole heart for so long. they are my BABIES. they are the first fics i wrote that truly, truly meant something real to me. so i think i still love them. not the same way, of course, but like...is it ever the same after a tragedy like they had?

oh my god i’m so sorry i wrote you an essay you were just being nice and asking questions about yyverse THANK YOU FOR BEING INTERESTED AND READING I LOVE YOU

#i literally wrote an essay under the cut this is so embarrassing #the e/o power is real. #my 10 x 13 tag is full of insane shit too btw in case you did not know. #tagging this for quick reference for u<3 #10 x 13 #ask reply #Anonymous

[paperstarwriters]

What Little Remains (I'd Follow Where You Lead) 2

(read pt. 1 here)

Lithera x Pellus angst

Warnings: Major character death, Heavy angst, no happy ending (no ending at all, yet), Unedited & typed directly into tumblr

Word Count: 414

I posted this to Ao3 earlier but I forgot to upload it here lol 😅 sorry about that. I'll continue to upload this story section by section though. I believe most of these parts will just be short little chapters. Nothing really long or meaningful exactly (maybe though that might change at some point idk.) Anyways it'lll probably take a while before I write the next part so yeah.

Taglist: @onceithough

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3 here

————— ♡ —————

The halls of the palace echo even louder than it did before. Lithera follows behind him, sluggishly floating along bright red trails like a train along a set of tracks. None of the blood is hers, but she doesn't quite seem to recognize that yet.

Or maybe she does, and there's some other reason she follows. After all, it doesn't seem like she's been entirely unable to remember or understand.

He's tempted to look her way, but his stomach churns at the thought alone. Perhaps it's because this is where she had spent so much of her life, or perhaps it's because this is where she died, but Lithera looks so much more vivid within the palace halls. Less fog clouds her features and the lines between her clothes and her skin are far more clear.

That and her wounds are far more apparent.

The two of them dodge the corpse of the crown prince, still rotting in a corner from when he threw him against the wall and punched him in that fit of rage. No one had managed to clean up the body after all the chaos, and as they abandoned the palace, everyone seemed to forget of the prince's existence.

He doesn't avoid it out of any sense of regret. If he could he'd do it a second and a third time. He'd do it any and every chance he'd get for everything he put Lithera through.

No, rather, he avoids it. Because as much as he adores her, as grateful as he is for her remaining here, he cannot help his fear at what Lithera becomes at the sight of golden hair and ruby eyes.

The blood on her body multiplies tenfold, gushing down from her wound as if it was freshly cut, and her eyes and face remain stuck in an expression of terror, horror and inhuman rage. Confronted with a face that even resembles Everett a little bit, the rest of the world around her seems to cease, and that intrinsic nature of ghosts to haunt bursts to the surface.

It's even worse when it's Everett himself. Pellus can't move the body without her following, so he often has to stand in front of it himself, bear witness to the gruesome result of Everett's actions, and his inaction as she slowly gains her bearings and returns to a normal form.

It's far easier to just meander through other hallways. Far less taxing to run up and down stairs looking for the correct rooms.

#another typical fantasy romance #pellus termaine #Lithera termane #pellus x lithera #angst #major character death #What little remains (I'd follow where you lead)

[heraldofzaun]

Childhood

Viktor Grigoryevich Pahlen is four years old when his father pulls him aside one evening. He will be starting school, soon - it is the summer, all low-hanging smog and trapped heat, and fall is coming sooner rather than later.

“Viktor,” Grigoriy says softly, looking at how his son is curled up on the chair opposite to him, “Viktor, look at me.”

Viktor’s face pops into view, no longer smushed against his shoulder in a position that both Grigoriy and Yekaterina find profoundly uncomfortable to look at. His hair sticks up at many angles: a testament to his tendency to squirm whenever Yekaterina tries to make him presentable. He’s pouting - but he is looking at Grigoriy. That’s progress.

“Your mother and I wanted to talk to you, before you start school in a few months,” and then it had been simply his job, but he is more well-suited to this than her, “about you.”

“But I’m me.”

“You are, yes, but…” and where to begin, “when you go with your mother to the store, or out in public, do you see that people are different than you?”

“Mh-hm. They’re bigger, because they’re adults.”

No. That’s not… it’s irrational, yes, but Grigoriy often wishes Viktor would simply grow up faster. He can explain surgeries while his gloves are deep within another living, breathing person but not genetic mutations to his own son because the language isn’t there. He has to repackage the medical journals and studies he’s read since the day Viktor was born into something that a child who has barely learned to write his letters correctly can understand.

Grigoriy tries again. “What about your hand, Viktor? Isn’t that different?”

Viktor shifts and stares at his left hand, all four pudgy fingers of it. If he were older, Grigoriy would explain that he is missing the fifth metacarpal and its associated phalanges… medical terms are so clear in a way this is not. But his son is young, and his words have to match.

“I guess,” and Viktor’s curled back in on himself again, voice muffled. “But I saw a man on the train who had no hand!”

“He probably lost it in an accident,” damn, that tone’s too sharp. “I mean to say… you’ve always had it.”

“Mh-hm!”

“And you know how your hair is different than others’, too.”

“Mom says that it’s thicker than the Kumungu.”

“…I’m sure she does,” probably while trying to corral Viktor into letting a brush so much as touch his head, much less a set of scissors. “But I meant the white streak. The white part.”

“Oh. But people have pink hair, I saw a woman-“

Grigoriy sighs. “It’s not natural, Viktor. Not like yours. And… you know how you sometimes get sick, yes?”

His son is practically a ball now, with his head tucked somewhere between his chest and knees. Do other children of this era do that? His coworkers have children in the workforce, now, and so the time to ask his peers is long-gone. Perhaps there are medical journals he can request, although the gods only know what keywords he could use.

“I don’t like that.”

“Neither do your mother and I. But it’s all the same, your hand and your hair and your stomach.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It is all from the same source, Viktor!” and that is the sound of Yekaterina dropping a pan into the sink - he shouldn’t have raised his voice. “It’s fine, dear,” Grigoriy calls to the other room.

Viktor has pulled himself out of the ball enough to focus his gaze on his father’s knee, or perhaps the hand resting on it. “…Sorry I made you mad.”

Oh… “It’s not you, Viktor. I’m…” just tired, just old, just out of my depth, “fine now. What I meant to say is that all of those are caused by the same thing. There’s…”

He has to explain genetics to a five-year-old, doesn’t he. That’s how this conversation ends. Maybe…

“I’ll be back.”

                                                        ---

Yekaterina is still in the kitchen, putting the last of the night’s dishes on the drying rack. She’s tired, too - the hours Grigoriy spends at the hospital, in surgeries and consults and teaching, she spends with Viktor and her work. Her research laboratory wants her back soon. They’d been generous with letting her have time off after Viktor’s birth, and then let her work from home as he aged… but he’ll be enrolled in school soon enough and then she can return to the lab for six hours on every weekday.

The two of them had mutually decided that her work would be the one to take a back-seat to Viktor, although Grigoriy sometimes wonders if raising a child would be less stressful than his long hours. Probably not.

“Did you explain it to him?” she asks quietly, drying off her hands.

“…I’m trying. I thought some diagrams could help.”

That gets a small laugh from her. “Maybe they will. I can tell you realized you can’t just treat him like one of the visiting students. You can’t yell at him, for one.”

She probably didn’t intend for her comment to hurt. “He kept talking about the kinds of people he sees when you take him out. Drawing the wrong comparisons.”

“He’s five, dear, what else is he supposed to do? It’s our job to make sure he makes the right ones.”

Another heavy sigh, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. “You’re right. It’s just been a long day.”

“I tend to be,” and she kisses him in return, “now go get those diagrams.”

    ��                                                    ---

Grigoriy returns to the living room, holding a textbook as if it’s the key to immortality. It’s one from his undergraduate years, so it’s probably incredibly outdated in more than a few aspects - but he just wants it for the illustrations. He sits down across from Viktor, who’s currently splayed out in his chair like a ragdoll. Grigoriy notes the hypermobility of his son’s shoulders and elbows. That, too, is most likely tied to this topic of discussion.

“Viktor?” he asks, flipping through the book in search of the right page. “Can you come over here?”

Viktor rolls off of the chair with a thud but bounces to his feet only a moment after. He peers at the book with great interest. “What’s that?”

“It’s…” Grigoriy inhales, willing the words into place. “Your body is made up of a lot of little things called cells. They make up your skin, your hair, your brain… they make up you! In each-”

“But I’m me!” Viktor sounds indignant, as if the concept of cells is an affront to him.

“Ah… think of it like how… your arm is your arm, but it’s not all of you. You are more than just what makes you up. So, in-”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, in each of these cells is a lot of these,” he points to the illustration, a basic model of DNA. “This is DNA, and it tells your cells what to do. It makes sure that each cell is doing the right thing, so that eye cells are eye cells and… er, skin is skin… so on.”

This isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Grigoriy looks over to his son, who is… utterly terrified. Oh dear.

“If it messes up, could I grow hair out of my eyes?” Oh no. He’s crying. “I don’t wanna have hair in my eyes!”

Yekaterina chooses that moment to poke her head through the doorway. “Vityusha, you won’t grow hair out of your eyes.”

Grigoriy shoots her a look. She returns it, greying eyebrow raised high, as she fully enters the room.

“Dad said I would!”

“Your dad didn’t say anything like that,” she replies, crouching down and embracing Viktor. “You won’t grow hair out of your eyes. I promise.”

A muffled “Okay...” comes from the general area of Yekaterina’s shoulder. Viktor worms away from the hug and wipes his eyes.

Grigoriy, by contrast, feels completely lost at sea. His wife gives him another meaningful look, kisses him on the cheek once more (to the disgusted groans of Viktor), and leaves. Where was he? Cells, DNA, right…

“So the DNA tells your cells what to do. It tells them how to look, which is why people have different colors of hair, skin, and eyes. Your DNA comes from your parents, which is why you look like your mom and I…”

“But I don’t! My hair!”

“Sometimes the DNA doesn’t… do its job,” Grigoriy adds, pointing to the diagram. “These pairs tell your DNA what to do. Sometimes they get… mixed up or damaged. Then you have a mutation. Sometimes these mutations are good, sometimes they are bad… ah, and so you have some mutations.”

“Are mine bad?”

Grigoriy squeezes his eyes shut. How is he supposed to answer this? Yes, Viktor, they’re bad. You’re missing a finger and we had to have surgery done to give you a good quality-of-life. And even that didn’t fix everything. That would just make his son convinced that he was somehow defective. No, Viktor, they’re good. Some people dye their hair to look like what you have. That was just a lie. Maybe some did, but fashionable hair wasn’t worth these costs…

“They… they’re just mutations. They don’t make you bad. They make you… unique. Special.”

“Oh!”

“And…” here is where the real point of this comes through, “sometimes, people may say rude things about your mutations. Like when you go to school in a few months.”

“Because I’m special and they’re not?”

That is certainly one way to look at it. Should he dissuade Viktor from that line of reasoning? Tell him the truth: that children are cruel because their parents are, and that they will take any sign of weakness as a signal to attack? That Grigoriy and Yekaterina can’t be there for him at school, can’t defend him from unkind words and rumors? That he will carry these signs throughout his life, signs that Zaun’s atmosphere is toxic… signs that his parents, perhaps, were too old. That some would say that Viktor should not have been brought into this world.

How could Grigoriy ever package such harsh truths into something a child could understand? Maybe in a few years, maybe when Viktor is a teenager… maybe then he could be told these facts without them destroying him. He needs to be nurtured now, the flame of his curiosity tended to so it can grow into a fire. If this misbelief can guard him against those who would snuff his flame out, then there’s only one answer Grigoriy can give. He shuts the textbook with a thud.

“Yes, exactly that. So don’t listen to anyone who tells you that you’re anything else.”

#writing | journals stored away #//enjoy a kid viktor and his parents! #//forgot to post this here after i threw it at ao3 lol :/

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 4

Hinata had no idea what she was doing following this child around, being lead from booth to booth, watching her pick up snacks and play games as they went. She was asked if she wanted a taiyaki, but she hadn't the stomach for it. She was asked if she wanted to help win her a plushie, but she was too numb to respond.

Everyone was looking at them.

Her classmates made comments in passing.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a sister!"

"Whoa, shocker! You're not an only child?"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"Guess Hyuuga-san can't be mysterious and secretive forever."

And then there was Naruto's face angled above the river of bodies, wide, open eyes filled with confusion and concern.

She ducked her head down. At the same time, Hanabi tugged at her skirt and pointed at another booth ahead. Following her lead her closer to Naruto, who began to push his way through to reach her.

His prescence is always like the sun, at times warm and welcoming, other times overbearing. Suffocatingly hot, in fact. Like now. Like she's been abandoned without her shoes, wandering barefoot on an asphalt desert, and here he is bearing down on her, unrelenting.

Several takes are made between Hanabi and herself. He's assessing with his own eyes and verifying it against their history.

"How old is she?" He murmurs.

Hinata releases a shaky sigh. "Ten. Her birthday's in March."

And Kurenai had taken them in the summer before. Her parents must have gotten pregnant again shortly after.

They both watched as Hanabi grasped the baseball and threw her arm back. After a couple near misses, she finally got it through the 300pt hole. Hinata clapped, but it was hollow and robotic. This obvious show of pain only earned her more of his attention, and that pained her too.

Hanabi skipped over to them, another palm-sized plushie added to the others hooked inside her left arm. Her cunning upturned eyes widened upon seeing Naruto standing so closely to her Onee-san.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Naruto froze up, a hand reached behind his head as he sputtered to explain without making things weird.

"He's someone that was nice to me in grade school," Hinata said coolly.

"Uh, yeah," The right half of Naruto's face pinched in mild disagreement, finding her answer a bit more impersonal than he was going for.

"What? That's all?" Hanabi's open-mouth frown made her look like the goldfish she tried to scoop earlier. She seemed visibly bored by this revelation.

Hinata also caught an indignant look from Naruto, whose eyes seemed to ask 'Yeah, that's all?'.

"Oh, I forgot," She met his stare, "You're trying to befriend the whole school by graduation." It wasn't code. He was almost obsessively expanding his contacts every day. He wanted to appear in every school photo for the yearbooks. He wanted the empty spaces so dense with inside jokes, fond wishes and signatures that no one could ever say he was unpopular and unloved.

"Hell yeah. And I'm halfway there, too."

It was Hanabi's turn to read the air between them as she glanced from person to person. A good-humored smirk curved her lips. "Looks like you have a long ways to go with Onee-san. Well, nice meeting you!" She grabbed Hinata's hand and began to drag her away, waving her flummoxed acquaintance goodbye. Hinata didn't even resist.

Naruto watched her disappear through the throng, as irritation and discomfort took seat inside his chest. She's walking around like a puppeted corpse and she gives him attitude?! His sigh transforms into a drawn out growl as he mentally works through the wrongness he feels. He comes out of it calmer, sympathy renewed.

She's simply not acting like herself. He has to forgive her for that.

As her brother, and the only one that's around, he has to fix this.

Otherwise, what is he good for?

______________________________

He had determined to find her again later in the day, when her sister surprise was no longer sucking the soul out of her.

And he does find her later, when the sky is a guava-mango sorbet dimming darker, and the school halls are shadowed in sleepy silence.

She's found a place to be alone, in a stairwell that hardly anybody uses.

Well, except himself. And a few others.

It's a great place for a post-lunchtime quickie.

It's not a hundred-percent guarantee to be unoccupied, but it's kind of a well-guarded school secret.

Now that he thinks about it, as she sits there much like his other catches have, and he's coming to meet her when everyone's gone, it leaves him feeling... exposed and shameful. Like they're both here for unsavory reasons.

A flash of a memory intrudes on him, of baby-soft, plump white skin that refused to be buttoned up in the shirt he shrank, bouncing with the force to cause an earthquake in his room, that tight-lined cleavage taunting him.

It took him weeks to look her in the face again, and he thinks about it now?!

He smacks his cheeks until he's regained stoic resolve. But then something else nags at him.

What if she was here, and she was waiting for someone else?

No one's invited her over here yet, he would know.

But they could. And when they did...

He shakes off these burdensome thoughts like a wet dog.

No one in this school has their eye on his sister. He would know that, too.

And he wouldn't allow it.

He can't think of a damn soul that's good enough for her.

So hardworking, so generous, so considerate and patient. Plus she was smart, she cooks better than Kurenai-obasan, and she's an amazing listener.

She's just so, so amazing.

And yet, stuff like this happens.

She's like the smallest thing to ever exist, that's what she looks like right now. As if he could scoop her up with both hands and still lose her between the cracks of his palms.

Just like when they first met.

Neji's voice rises up in the back of his mind. "You're the only one I can ask."

He's got a lot of experience cheering her up and making her feel safe, and this time will be no different.

Or so he thought.

When she looks up at him, he feels transparent. Her brow is furrowed like it doesn't make sense for him to be here.

"Can you take me to the train station?" She asks unblinkingly, thin tears escaping from the inner corners.

His mind goes a mile a minute with speculation, but he'd already been planning on saying 'yes' to her no matter what she had asked of him.

______________________________

They're taking the train to Neji's private high school. It's way pass curfew, so there's no visiting him at his dorm, but they're going to try.

Naruto can't talk to her because she's fully turned towards the window. Instead he takes this free time to picture himself in her situation. That he has family somewhere out there, and siblings he's never met. That they lived their lives without him. Maybe even erased his existence from their story. No photographs, no baby book.

Was Hinata even still on their family registry?!

He folded over and clutched his head, groaning. "This is so fucked. How could they do this to you?!"

For the past six hours, she's been asking herself the same thing.

She was also asking for Hanabi's sake, those fragile words ringing over and over in the back of her mind.

"Do you think I'm a redo?"

Hinata squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Because there are no redos without mistakes.

______________________________

AN: Sorry, this is only 800 words! D: I'll probably combine this with the previous chapter as well when I post it to AO3. Or maybe it's somehow fine as is? Like an Interlude? I also wanted to write that heartwrenching scene between Hanabi and Hinata and get some exposition out of the way, but today it felt tedious. :( I wish I had written it when I originally wanted to, lol.

That aside, I'm not totally happy with the flow of the middle scene, it just feels maybe... distracted? or disjointed? Hmm... tangential?

Plus I couldn't seem to dig very deep into Naruto's reactions and like, the logical progression of his emotions. I feel I just skimmed the surface. Oh wait, maybe it's because he ought to be belligerently outspoken about this stuff, right? （・□・；）

Sometimes I think I really miss the ball when writing Naruto cuz I subdue him to be more 'normal' and have enough situational awareness to get by on. (눈_눈)

#asynchronous with you fanfiction #naruto x hinata #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #chapter 4 #more WIP than official #short chapter

[blackandblue13]

as i reread/post-new-chapters-of smsias, i’m going to add silly, little trivia facts to this post below the cut so uhhh here (also spoilers if you haven't read the fic. any content warnings are listed on the ch pages on ao3):

1. ordinary (train; spider-man 2)

lol @ myself for setting this in chicago (i’ve been to CA once, and the closest i got to LA was universal studios, so i don’t think i could accurately write spider-man stuff with LA geography. and i live in chicago. so). at least i’m not the only person who uprooted jatp from LA/LF/CA, though. i’ve read some royalty AUs, a fic set in florida, some where carrie/flynn/julie or alex/bobby/luke/reggie live in new york, so at least i’m not the Only person taking jatp somewhere else for non-tour purposes.

my high school chemistry teacher from sophomore year? mrs. boyle. she had the same notecard system of death that professor boyle does (and she’s teaching alex/reggie chemistry in their sophomore year of college lol). i hated her so much. fuck you, kara. i liked my physics teacher (ms. senser, junior year), though! but i felt weird naming a fictional chemistry professor after a real-life physics teacher. sorry, marybeth 😭.

lol bobby texted reggie to ask if he needed a ride home from class. i forgot about that specific message while writing ch10, because i had bobby insist that he would drive reggie home from class during the ch10 origin story flashback.

lmao reggie asking the gals to lie and tell bobby he’s not at the studio and pleading “just this once” (spoiler alert, reggie would lie to bobby more than just that one time).

the test tube! lol i don’t remember if i reread ch1 before writing ch10 but i’m really glad reggie accidentally getting cut by the test tube remained consistent. wait actually i probably did because i specifically remember the hair comment. still. silly.

lyft! i prefer lyft to uber. also i think weird stuff was happening with uber during jan-apr 2021 irl, so i was like “let’s have reg take a lyft.”

it is so silly to me how carrie/flynn/julie are so quick to catch onto reggie’s superhero dreams. they probably have superhero dreams of their own. i just think it would be so cool to be a guy-in-the-chair (as much as i would also enjoy being in the action, too. but also i am weak with injuries, so guy-in-the-chair may be a better job for me anyway).

“thank you, tobey maguire” — i really prefer the version of spider-man where the spider bite gave him the power to shoot his own webs (the tech of andrew and tom’s was still p cool). i didn’t think about the logistical aspect of spidey having to adapt his diet though, so i don’t think that is brought up until after reggie’s partners find out about his spidey-life.

i have no idea how or what bobby could have possibly cried at during all three hsm movies but he did!!! hsmtmts cause of crying was likely 01x04 when ricky is in his sad boy hours because i cried at that and i project onto bobby a lot.

carrie and bobby live in lake point tower but i don’t think i ever established a place of residence for trevor? oops lol.

i love that i threw in these details of bobby having tattoos and a motorcycle, and bringing reggie flowers, and then completely forgetting about it for the longest time. there is a single comment about bobby chasing after reggie on his bike, and also the ot4 tattoo scene in ch9, and bobby having forgotten that he used to bring reggie flowers and hadn’t brought flowers for luke or alex, too, until ch6. so at least they make a comeback?

oh okay so maybe i tried to write a version of luke’s “four” that will never see the light of day because i only got as far as the melody for the chorus.

it’s so weird to read earlier chapters of this fic because of the gendered words and only he/him pronouns for bobby. i think i started projecting genderlessness onto them in july when i stopped using she/her pronouns? so i’ve had to change a lot of original draft stuff because i wrote some stuff (that was recently posted/the next couple of chapters to be posted) before deciding to write bobby as nonbinary. so. y’all can blame my personal gender crisis for bobby’s in-fic-gender-crisis.

it is so silly to me how this entire first chapter is just like. brief portion of present day. giant chunk of a flashback. little bit of present day, longer than before. another flashback, but much shorter. okay back to present day again lol.

dang. remember how reggie is hesitant to say “i love you” to bobby during the may 2020 flashbacks? and then when we get to present day of september, he says it so easily to alex? wish we got to see that buildup (yes i know i’m the author shush).

(august 2020 flashback) reggie thinking things are weird between him and bobby because he kissed bobby’s cheek… that is just so silly to me because bobby spent this chapter’s may 2020 flashback, as well as ch10’s may 2020 section, being very physically affectionate with reggie. including kisses to hand/knuckle and top of head. and also him admitting that the entire ot4 is affectionate that way, as in they all kinda kiss each other all the time even though they’re not romantically together (except alex/luke but we don’t know that yet lol). silly goose. silly reg.

i think the whole issue of reggie hesitating to say “i love you” to bobby but having an easier time with alex is because bobby and reggie had a conversation where they explicitly confessed their romantic feelings for each other. alex, on the other hand? reggie has romantic feelings for him, but alex doesn’t know that, nor does reggie have any idea if alex feels similarly about him (and this is the same situation with luke). so, saying “i love you” to bobby feels like a confession he isn’t ready for, somehow an accidental sign that he wants to begin their romantic relationship earlier than he wants to.

ahh yes i love the vicious push-up competition of asexual solidarity 😤😤😤

2. you’re that spider-guy — hans zimmer; the amazing spider-man 2)

my short chapter! the baby of the fic! it’s like 2.5k words i think? all my writing is basically “me yelling for eight hours in order to properly explain the universe because i have adhd and i need y’all to see exactly what i’m seeing except sometimes i forget to describe things oops”

anyway. i love the mini-arc of reg-meeting-his-partners-as-spidey. it seems like the scariest thing in the world because he’s never been face-to-face with the magician so that dude’s obviously not going to become relevant (/s), and he’s trying so hard to keep his secret from his partners, and then he has to save all three of them? (alex from a car, luke, bobby from his own internal spiraling) so silly.

i love making insta posts for the gang. i love them. sometimes the chapters are already too long or the mood is way too serious, and an insta post doesn’t fit the vibe, but when they are in a ch, they make me smile :)

3. (i wish i could be) honest — “honest” by the neighbourhood; the amazing spider-man 2

first time linking the playlist yay!!

also the first time more than one member of the ot4 (aka more than just reg lol) is Going Through It

“should reggie be more worried about luke’s opinion of spider-man?” haha, Yes!

carrie’s papaya conditioner that reggie used? garnier fructis 3-options-in-1 rinse-out conditioner, leave-in conditioner, and hair mask. would recommend. it makes my hair feel soft.

someone pls yell at me to fix the italics formatting of the alex/reggie phone call toward the end. i tried to do it on my phone twice, but then safari was like “network connectivity lost go fuck off i hate you” so i have to wait a few days until i have my laptop again.

i’ve tried the cold brew and lemon bar ice creams from jeni’s, the mango milk cloud, strawberry milk cloud, and brown sugar boba from hello jasmine, and all five cupcake flavors (creme brulee, tiramisu, cookies and cream, s'mores, peanut butter nutella) from molly’s — absolutely amazing. would recommend.

4. (nobody knows the danger we’re in) on this sunny day — “picture this” by the cast of spider-man: turn off the dark

i wonder why reggie and spider-man text the same way,,, /s

i love the alex/reggie scene before they go into the courthouse. this ch was entirely written without it, like originally, it would’ve gone from alex/reg’s text convo straight into the insta post of them with the ring pops, which would have made this seem like a wildly impulsive decision. but then at the last minute i was like “well reggie’s parents suck; is he really going to be able to get married on a whim without overthinking it?” and the answer was no because mans has spent the last three chapters overthinking, and he will spend the rest of the fic overthinking. so. hooray for last-minute realizations of plot consistencies.

y’all have my sister to blame for any marriage stuff that happens in my fics. i was writing the beginning chapters around the time she got unofficially engaged in march, and she and her mans had been talking about wedding/engagement stuff for, like, the six months before.

5. undercover — pete yorn; spider-man

shoutout to jo for helping me figure out the costumes. i wrote the entire ch for realizing “the reader should know what everyone else besides reg is wearing, right?” and i: could not decide on a costume for anyone aside from 1, not wanting iron man (because i hate iron man and rdj, and i wanted to avoid iron man And spider-man both appearing in the ot4), 2, not wanting there to be both loki And thor within the ot4, 3, not wanting a marvel-romance-crossover between the ot3 and ot4. the closest we get to that is captain america/black widow because of that fake dating distraction kiss in “the winter soldier” but i think it’s nice and silly that alex and carrie are in those costumes. it’s a fun mlm/wlw solidarity if you think about it too hard (but also in general because alex/carrie are besties who dance and do yoga together and i love them).

bobby’s halloween costume being loki is unintentionally gender foreshadowing. because loki is genderfluid and sometimes gender envy (and i’m 90% jo suggested loki for bobby because loki and taylor kare give them gender envy. which is. 100% understandable. i too get gender envy from taylor kare). (okay maybe bobby’s gender arc is because of my own gender crisis AND jo’s suggestions. thank you, jo.)

fun fact: i had absolutely no idea how the hielo/fuego/spidey interaction was going to end, so i was like "let's just throw him off the roof" lol and then i accidentally broke the spidey suit oops

6. you can laugh, you can feel fine — “learn to crawl” by black lab; spider-man

spidey-skirt! we love the spidey-skirt :)

i uhh Did Not Plan for the spidey suit to be out of commission, so this ch Did Not Exist in the original draft. hehe.

bobby's discomfort with being shirtless = weird gender feelings and general discomfort with existing.

wilson worldwide banjo/guitar creation is fully based on me thinking about how much i love my banjolele

someone Please tell me they caught onto the color scheme of bobby's bouquet. yellow, white, purple, black? it's the nonbinary flag?? i'm foreshadowing their coming out???

i named mark after a guy i don't like irl lol

oh yeah nick exists in this fic verse. idk if he does anything aside from "dorm with willie." nick is at columbia too (i had to confirm this with my actual fic notes, bc i pictured willie and nick living at the UC dorm building, which houses students from columbia, roosevelt, saic, and i think uic law?). which is very irrelevant in the grand scheme of this fic bc i don't touch upon the college aspect of their lives very often (but also the main focus is spidey-reg, not jatp-gang-in-college)

yaaaaaaay the ot4 is picking fights /s

when luke says that they should all stop keeping secrets from each other and bobby is the first to jump in and be like "wait here's an exception" = him not ready to come out as enby, and not wanting to feel like he's "hiding" part of his identities from the partners

"yeah, i totally fuck with privacy" what a good line. good job, me.

projecting onto characters is fun! like bobby, i get migraines that are sometimes eased by ice packs. and i hate loading the dishwasher.

also bobby probably had a migraine for normal life stress reasons, but they probably would have secluded themself to the second bedroom anyway because of weird gender feelings persisting all day.

OH lol so i don't remember if i fell asleep in the middle of writing the last scene of the chapter OR if i had just woken up, but either way, i had just had a really realistic dream where i saw my bed or my room or something, but something felt very Off, and i couldn't place what it was, and then i woke up out of nowhere. and then i wrote it into the fic so bobby would have that dream, too.

7. this photograph is proof (i know you know) — taking back sunday; spider-man

this ch is like 16k words which meant it ended up being an hour and 46 minutes when i recorded the podfic (which i split into three parts bc my laptop did some weird thing at the end of the original first part, so then i was like "okay i guess i'll split it into two parts" and then i had to re-record the first part, and it was more balanced to do three parts, whatever. fun and silly tech problem).

in the original draft, during the bobby/spidey rooftop scene, bobby told spidey that one of his friends wasn't a big fan of spidey bc he [friend, luke] thinks spidey has a better ass than him. luke was referred to as a friend in the original draft bc the main ship of the fic was bobby/reggie (not ot4, unfortunately), and then in the second draft, the line stayed but the ot4 wasn't public with their relationship. in the actual, published version, the ot4 is together and public, and the ass jealousy (lol) line becomes throwaway dialogue in the november section of ch5 (after team spidey gets coffee and returns to the ot4's condo). i also had no idea how i would have ended this scene with either of the original drafts, so y'all can thank my personal gender crisis, as well as bobby's crisis, for giving me a great opportunity for something that bobby/spidey could talk about that isn't them yelling at spidey for flirting with his partners.

haha "spider-dick"

i love molly's cupcakes. new flavor mentioned: boston creme for lex. i actually don't remember if this is a real flavor or if i just made it up for fic purposes or if i was thinking about donuts (and if i WAS thinking about donuts, then this becomes a fun reference to cmbcyb, in which reg's fave donut flavor is boston creme)

sharkboy and lavagirl! cinematic masterpiece

as y'all can tell, my main headcanons for bobby are: genderless, sleep-deprived/insomniac, loves coffee, uncultured (in a funny way, like with pop culture), migraines, grumpy one who is soft for the sunshine one(s), fall out boy :)

"non-bob-ary" :)

oh lmao i had no idea how to properly transition into the gala bc i didn't want another scene with reporters/paparazzi type (like in ch4 i think?) and with my sister getting married this year and constantly in wedding-planning-mode, i think she mentioned stuff about where she and her mans want to honeymoon after the wedding, so i was reminded that honeymoons are a thing, and then i was like "lol these silly geese impulsively got married and never discussed honeymoon"

alex spits out the jalapeño popper bc he can't handle spice /hj

i know i trashed the vegetarian alternative foods but some meatless "meatballs" and vegan hot dogs are really good. but sometimes they're really weird and sad.

y'all don't understand how many times i had to count to 9 to ensure that i included the ot4, the ot3, ray, and trevor, and then make sure that i didn't accidentally count to 5 when i was thinking about the ot4

again with the original draft and main ship being bobby/reggie -- that meant just the two of them would have gone on a date to the ww gala that night, and i'm p sure luke and alex wouldn't have attended at all. there was also some weird side plot about bobby/reggie and carrie/flynn/julie not being Out, so there was some fake-date nonsense of bobby/flynn and carrie/reggie hanging out together so reporters wouldn't suspect gay nonsense. i had absolutely no idea where i would've gone with that. i think i wrote a little tiny bit of this idea out, and then i moved it to my "spare parts" google doc (of fic ideas i've abandoned lol) bc there was no way to incorporate that into the actual, final draft of the fic.

i knew i wanted "this photograph is proof (i know you know)" to be the ch title very early on in the writing process bc i wanted 1, the bobby/spidey rooftop run-in with the picture taking (shoutout to taylor kare for being a photographer) and 2, the reveal of the conspiracy board. also! bobby was not supposed to have seen the board; that was only going to be team spidey, but then i couldn't figure out a good/nice way to get rid of them so reg could go upstairs alone, and then i was like "wouldn't it be silly, and unintentionally add an extra layer of angst, if one of reg's partners found out about the spidey-stuff before the other two? haha!"

lol hey magic man

there's no j jonah jameson equivalent in this spidey-verse but luke calling spidey a menace in front of all the gala guests and first responders is the closest we get

"reggie loves finding cool rocks" yeah he sure does!!!

hehe brooch

the coffee metaphor is so silly like why is that what's running through reg's head when he's in the middle of a crisis lol whatevs

every time i was like "okay this chapter is over" when i was writing it, i kept finding more stuff to add, so then it just Kept Going which is super silly, and that's how it ended up being 16k! bc i never shut up!!

OH this ch almost ended up being Even Longer bc i had this idea for alex/bobby to have a nice lil convo (while luke was in the bathroom and reg was changing in the closet) talking about this video alex had watched by a polyam blogger (polyphiliablog, bc i love their tiktoks) about how it can be better for polycules to ask someone outside of the relationship to mediate arguments (bc they're not directly involved or dating anyone, so they can offer a less biased opinion) and it was going to be a nice little infodump section, but then i had no idea how to transition in or out of it, and i also wanted to let the ot4 Sleep so i was like "alright i gotta scrap this idea, they've had a long night. if alex isn't actively offering to mediate the bob/reg argument when he overhears it bc he's tired and also staying by luke's side while luke throws up, there's no way he's going to have the energy to infodump, and bobby likely won't have the energy to process the infodumping and properly appreciate alex's research"

8. your heart knows when you’re hiding — “boy falls from the sky” by the cast of spider-man: turn off the dark

i knew from the beginning that i wanted “boy falls from the sky” to be the ch title for whenever spider-man and the magician had their showdown at navy pier. it wasn’t until i had been obsessively listening to my smsias playlist that i heard the lyric “your heart knows when you’re hiding” and delved into the idea of reggie’s conflict between hiding/revealing himself, and in ch1 when reggie is thinking about his feelings for bobby, he also admits “there and luke-and-alex-shaped pieces of his heart,” and the comparison of all three of his partners being what makes up his heart, and the ot4 knowing each other so well, therefore All Of That^^ equating to the line “[reggie’s] heart (his partners) knows when you’re hiding”

i also intended for the literal “boy falls from the sky” moment (of the magician attacking reggie, then reggie passing out as he drops to the earth) to be more dramatic, like an “oh shit, this has never happened before” but then i threw in that thing in ch5 when hielo and fuego throw reg off the roof. but oh well.

ahaha luke getting mad at reg for the reveal was one of the few things i wrote in the original draft that stayed pretty intact through revisions

the chapter was originally going to end with the lines “And then he’s falling — Reggie has never been more alone in his entire life. alone, alone, alone. None of this would’ve happened if he wasn’t so selfish, didn’t think with his heart instead of his head, didn’t knowingly endanger his family with every passing second — and then the world goes dark.” as one paragraph, but then i got the silly idea of “lol what if his life flashed before his eyes because apparently that’s what happen when people die,” so that’s where THAT came from. and i figured, with the way i could split up aforementioned line, the best course of action would be three scenes (yay rule of threes!), and the most painful types of scenes would be any where it’s emphasized that he is so incredibly loved by his found family. plus i never showed an ot4 date, despite writing their getting-together scene, and i didn’t think of the team spidey letter scene until after the chapter in which it would have fit best. and there’s minimal ray content, and the only carlos moment before this one is a single insta comment.

also! the team spidey moment is very important to me, because as often as reggie is internally like “i should have been doing this alone the whole time, i shouldn’t have gotten more people involved,” i wanted there to be the consistent, counter-argumentative theme of “no, reggie, it’s okay to ask for help and to rely on other people. you work better with a team by your side, and you are happier when you’re with your loved ones than when you’re alone.” and also the lol moment of reg being like “yeah i wouldn’t have gotten this far without y’all” because he appreciates his amazing team of his best gal friends, and even though he doesn’t say it enough, but he loves them so much!!!

9. stop feeling invisible and start feeling invincible [interlude] — “invincible” by aminé; spider-man: into the spider-verse

i totally forgot reg gave bobby a cool rock during this beach section, bc i recently wrote a scene in the cmbcyb prequel with ABJLR and thomas on the beach, and reg brings a bobby a cool rock in that too, but it didn't click with me that i had already written that same thing months ago lol. i'm keeping it in, though. it was cute.

initial/name tattoos are kinda weird to me but i like the idea of bobby getting them bc he's secretly a sap in every version of him i've ever written

also tattoo employees: bex is named after bex taylor-klaus (the voice actor for pidge in "voltron") and may is named after may parker (from the official "spider-man" universe)

this ch (up until the present day scene) is like. the last Silly Fun Times ch bc everything gets so serious afterward lol. y'all remember that moment in ch8 after the spidey-reveal when alex tells reg to be safe, and reg is internally like "oh god is it going to be this serious all the time?" the answer is Yes ahaha Foreshadowing.

10. when it started — the strokes; spider-man

bobby insisting that the ww employees don't call them "sir" or "mister" = weird gender feelings have been going on for a while, even if they didn't fully realize it until months later

the flashback/origin is one of the earlier things i wrote for this fic (at least the premise of bobby-carrie-reggie going to ww, them sneaking into the ending of trev's presentation, and the lab scene) although i didn't even THINK of the hielo/fuego part until i was writing ch7 when reg has that moment of thinking him getting his powers Wasn't an accident, and then i was like "lol wouldn't it be so silly if hielo and fuego were at ww for whatever reason, maybe they snuck in or maybe they worked there, and they were the reason reg got his powers" and then i made them employees

11. hurry, hurry, hurry before i go insane — “i wanna be sedated” by the strokes; spider-man: far from home

i think it took longer for me to decide on a song/lyrics to title this chapter than it did to actually write the chapter

i wrote out notes for myself of the ot4's separate arcs for the next few chapters (bc they're all going through different stuff, but we, the audience, mainly see the spidey-stuff bc reg pov and also it's a spidey-fic, but obvi alex/bobby/luke's lives don't revolve around spidey-stuff as heavily as reg's does) and the main note? "okay so basically everyone is Going Through It"

haha the gang watches the spidey-movies that's so silly!!!

i was going through some tummy problems while writing this (bc i am a hot girl with acid reflux (gender neutral)) so most of reg's tummy problems are based on my own experience hehe

while i was recording the podfic, police/ambulances kept driving by so that may or may not be heard in the final recording, Except during the actual spidey-and-police scene. the irl police only drove by before or after me recording that part smh my head

12. alone — danny elfman; spider-man

ahaha reggie is Going Through It

i wish i could say more here but i genuinely forgot what i originally wrote, and then tumblr refreshed the draft page before i could say it so Oops. when i reblog this post with notes for future chapters, i'll probably add notes for aforementioned chapters as i remember them.

#smsias #writing timez with baneet #long post

[obsidianfr3sk]

now

Summary: “Now— do you like it?” Simon asked (still making jazz hands).

Oh, no, he liked it. But Simon had made a tiny mistake. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. It was just that… if he had a coin for every time Simon had made that exact mistake, he would have two coins. Which wasn’t a lot of coins; but it was funny it happened twice.

And there it was. Again. The infamous latticework pie.

AO3

Hello, friends! Obsi here. I want to start this author note by saying this fic is a birthday gift for Rita (@the-wee-woo-rita), a fandom friend of mine that I hold dear to my heart since the day they started to constantly appear in my notes and hasn't stopped since <3 Forgive me if I spent the rest of my time covering the birthday kid with invisible virtual kisses:)

Aaaah, Rita:') Feliz cumpleaños, amigue✨ I hope you have an amazing day and that you're reading this while your family and friends are giving you tons of presents and kind words <3 I gotta confessed that I noticed you almost since you entered the fandom bc you were always on my notes, so every time I saw your icon, I was like "Oh, Wee Woo is here <3". oH AND WHEN YOU STARTED YOUR FIC DKJFHKJFKJDF I wanted to read it since you started posting it, and when I finally could, it left me 💖💖💖. Not only because it's a super fun story, (go read it if you haven't, people) but also because I can tell you're writing from the heart and you're as invested in Hugh and Simon's relationship as I am skjdhksd one time I even cried because I felt so proud of you for writing it lol

I guess that you already know what this fic is going to be about. When you told me this is your favorite scene of these pair of idiots and knew I had to write something for you about it sdkjfhjksdf it came out really fluffy and funny, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did <3

Never stop writing. You got this✨ Enjoy your gift!!

When Hugh first started dating Simon, he didn’t know if he wanted to marry him. If someone had asked him, he wouldn’t have known how to answer, and everyone would have thought he was a dick, when in reality, he just hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t sorted out his life yet.

Not like other people.

She had her life sorted out. At least most of it. Hugh certainly wouldn’t have been able to take care of a child when he was that age, but from the moment Adrian was born, his mom was there for him. She told him she was able to know if he was asking for food, if he needed another diaper, or if he just wanted to see her.

“But how do you know that if he cannot even talk?” he asked her.

“One just knows,” she answered. “If you ever become a dad, you’ll understand.”

And it sounded like a threat. Because at that age, Hugh also didn’t know if he wanted to have kids or not.

Simon, on the other hand, did. He was a mess in almost every single area of his life (like him), but he did know he wanted to have kids and to get married to someone. And it wasn’t like he was trying to scare Hugh the first months they started dating. Simon didn’t talk to him about his plans for the future until they had been together for more than a year. The only reason he knew about them was that he overheard a conversation Simon was having with… with Georgie, on one of the few occasions she was able to take a break from her baby.

At first, Hugh didn’t feel something particularly strong about what he heard. He actually kind of forgot about it for a couple of hours, until he went to sleep.

In his dream— or nightmare, which was a more accurate term, he was in the kitchen trying to bathe baby Kasumi in the sink, but she kept playing with the water and wetting his clothes, even when he tried to tell her to stop. Then, he heard Tamaya screeching his name and when he turned around to see what was happening, Evander (who was the only one whose age didn’t change, so he was a teenager bullying a four-year-old girl) was trying to pluck off the feathers of her wings, with all the intention of hurting her. Kasumi threw more water at him, so he grabbed her, all wet and everything, to try to follow Tamaya and Evander to the living room and stop them from fighting, but then, Georgie, who was at least 9 years old in the dream, pulled his hoodie, and told him:

“This is for you—” and pointed at a newborn baby she had just left on the floor.

Adrian.

Her newborn baby.

“No, that’s not mine, that’s yours,” he said. “That’s yours, Georgie, pick him up.”

She crossed her arms. “You pick him up.”

Then, Tamaya started screaming again, and Evander was freaking laughing, but he couldn’t leave Adrian on the floor, so he handed a crying Kasumi to Georgie, asking himself why the fuck Simon wasn’t around the house to help him with the kids.

When he bent over to pick the baby up, Simon decided it was a good time to appear, spank him and ask him: “Where are my cigarettes, goldilocks?”

And that was enough to wake him up.

It took him a couple of seconds to process what he was seeing. Georgie was sitting on the basement stairs, feeding Adrian and singing a song to him. Evander and Kasumi were sleeping under the same colorful blanket, while Tamaya was sitting on the side of the bed, gazing at her friend and moving her head side to side, as if she were singing too.

“Hey,” Georgie called him. “Are you ok, darling?”

He opened his mouth slightly and when he was about to tell her he had a nightmare, Simon turned around and grabbed him by the arm, still asleep.

It was cute enough for him to stop being mad at him for something he did in a dream. “Yes, I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

Maybe it had something to do with age, but the thing was that Hugh didn’t dream that often anymore. One time he told Simon that, despite that, he still had nightmares in which he couldn’t move his body but he was aware of his surroundings, just as if he were awake. Simon frowned and said that didn’t sound like a nightmare, but more like sleep paralysis. Hugh thought it sounded a little bit psychedelic and told him he didn’t believe in those things, to which Simon reacted as if he just confessed he was an Earth-flatter.

He couldn't quite understand why Simon acted as if he were some sort of dream expert. Simon told him it was because he was a dream expert, or at least he was more of an expert than Hugh was, since he got a lot more sleep than he did, and it was true. Hugh couldn’t remember the last night he slept without spending two hours staring at the dark and empty room, while he heard Simon’s body rubbing the blankets from time to time.

“You know, I don’t think that’s normal,” Simon told him when they were driving back home from the Headquarters. “I think you should see a therapist.”

Simon said that a lot, too. It wasn’t bad advice per se, but for some reason, it drove him crazy every time he said it, even if he didn’t show it (or at least he liked to believe he didn’t). He remembered that occasion, specifically, because he had had a particularly bad day at work when they had that conversation about sleep paralysis. Kasumi and Evander decided that was a wonderful day to act as if they were the main characters of their new show “Dumb and Dumber”, trying to convince him to get couches for their offices with a slide presentation and everything, and Tamaya was acting like a particularly angry pregnant woman that hated everything that moved, especially if that thing was Hugh. He hadn’t gone completely feral with Kasumi and Evander (even if they kind of deserved it) and just told them to stop trying to kill the last brain cell they shared, but even so, they reacted as if Hugh had done something super offensive and if he were the one who was wasting everyone’s time. He had been even kinder with Tamaya because, yeah, she was being irrational, but at the same time, she was pregnant, and being a dick to a pregnant woman wouldn’t have been very heroic of him. Still, Tamaya didn’t even try to get her hormones under control and was actually devastated when he brought her the wrong kind of gyro from the store. She even cried and took the rest of the day for herself, which was something she had the right to do, obviously.

But anger is a bitch and one of those emotions that takes the best of you, so a little voice inside his head that took control of his consciousness every time he got mad at someone, was telling him that he should ask Simon if his therapist had told him that it wasn’t normal to wake up in the middle of the night to see if your kid was still breathing.

Because it didn’t sound normal to him.

He didn’t do it though. Maybe he was too tired.

Being angry took a lof a lot of energy.

He was still curious about whether Simon had ever told his therapist about that or if he had normalized it so much, that he didn’t think it was important to mention it. He had been doing that since the first night he met him when they were still a pair of kids. The first night they slept together, in Simon's basement, he woke him up in the middle of the night and sighed with relief.

“Good, you’re alive,” he mumbled. And then went back to sleep, as nothing happened.

Hugh thought it was quirky and funny. Now he believed it may be a real psychological problem.

His suspicion was confirmed that same night after having that conversation when he woke up at 3AM to go get a glass of water and realized that Simon had left the bed. He assumed he was at Adrian’s room, so he didn’t think too much about it and went downstairs, without bothering to turn the lights on. After all, he couldn’t die if he tripped with his own feet because his powers would protect him (and if he did, it would be the stupidest of deaths and he deserved it.)

He took a glass cup (because plastic cups were only for kids), filled it with water, and when he turned around to go back to his room, Simon flickered, and he could see him right in front of him, with his dagger in hand, as if he were about to stab him.

“SIMON, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Simon flickered again and let go of his dagger at the same time he started crying and hugged him while mumbling he thought he was a robber that wanted to “kill everyone in the house and then himself.”

Hugh could only hug him back.

Simon didn’t try to stab him again, but he still had a weird sleep schedule. Hugh, on the other hand, was sleeping a lot better now that his psychiatrist had shown him this amazing invention called citalopram.

A week before their tenth anniversary, he was about to fall asleep when Simon entered the room, got under the covers, and hugged him from behind, pressing his body against his.

“Si, it’s 2AM.”

“How do you want to celebrate our anniversary?”

He asked that question with the same tone he used when he asked Max and Adrian what they wanted to do during their birthdays. Or when he asked Nova if she wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with them, or when he tried to convince Kasumi and Tamaya to do something fun for Christmas that year.

And Hugh answered him the same thing the others did:

“I don’t know.”

He knew being ten years married to the same person was something that should be celebrated. And he also knew Simon didn’t mean any harm by asking those things, even if they may have seemed a little bit oblivious to the fact that life as they knew it had almost ended during the supernova. Actually, he believed he asked them that because he was completely aware of what had happened and, for instance, he was trying to fix all the things the burning stardust had destroyed, covering the ears of the people he loved, hugging them, and telling them that things couldn’t be that bad if they still could have a little piece of cake to celebrate even the smallest of events.

That gave him an idea.

“I think I just want to eat cake with you,” he mumbled.

“Cake?”

“I like cake. Except when it’s wet.”

Simon snorted. “Do you remember when Oscar invited Adrian to his birthday party and he gave him a pound of cake for him to share it with us?” he asked.

Hugh remembered that. “I do.”

“And do you remember you hated it?”

“It was more milk than cake.”

“Pastel de tres leches,” Simon said, with almost no American accent.

In other circumstances, he would’ve found that voice really attractive, but now the memory of that stupid cake was too much for him. “You know, I think there is where the fucking problem begins,” he told him. “What’s the need of adding three leches? One leche is more than enough.”

Simon tried to contain his laugh and failed. “Why do you pronounce leche like that?”

“It’s not natural, Simon,” Hugh insisted. “Cake is cake. And cake is supposed to be dry.”

“Well, I loved it.”

“You love everything. Even those who are unlovable.”

“Oh, sweetie. You’re not unlovable.”

“I know. I’m talking about the fucking cake.”

Simon stayed silent and Hugh laughed to let him know it was okay.

“So you want to keep it simple this year?” Simon asked him.

“I think that would be the most… appropriate thing to do.”

“All right then—” he pretended to use his finger to write on his back “—No tres leches cake… And keep it simple. Something else, your Majesty?”

“No, I think that’s all.”

“What about gifts?”

“I’m a simple man. I like blue, I like silver things that look like chrome, and I like myself. Go crazy.”

Simon gasped. “Or I could bake something for you,” he said. “I could make a little dinner for us… with your favorite cake.”

He couldn’t tell if Simon was being serious, but he hoped he did because— that actually sounded really nice. “What about the kids though?”

“Pssh, let’s just put them to bed early,” Simon answered. “Max’s bedtime is 9:30 anyways.”

“Are you—”

“Let me do something nice for you,” he interrupted him. “Please.”

Hugh sighed

“I’m being serious. I’m going to make your favorite cake,” Simon assured him, holding him closer to him.

And then it hit him. “Do you know—”

“Of course I know your favorite cake, love,” he giggled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Hugh wanted to keep talking to him, but he started to notice his eyes were getting tired and that he wasn’t going to be able to keep them open a lot longer.

Simon kissed his shoulder. “Are you going to sleep now?”

“Yeah. But turn around,” he added. “I want to be the big spoon.”

The next morning, while Simon was looking for his mask before heading to work, Hugh realized he never told him what he wanted for their anniversary, so he took that moment to ask him. Simon just said that he would love anything Hugh got for him, which was honestly the worst answer ever because Hugh was the worst person when it came to guessing that sort of stuff, and needed to know specifically what they wanted so he wouldn’t end up giving them a shitty gift.

But then, he realized that it was a gift for their tenth anniversary. And when he gazed at Simon again, he noticed he was already looking at him through the small mirror they had hanging on their closet door, with a small smile on his face, letting him know that he had noticed the moment Hugh remembered what they did each year during their anniversary.

There was a tradition Simon heard about when they were planning their wedding, that it was all about giving a gift made of certain material according to the marital year. He didn’t tell him about it until a year later when they were talking about what they were going to do to celebrate that year, and for some reason, they ended up talking about when they met.

Unfortunately, Hugh could no longer remember when was the first time he saw Simon. It was like one day, he just walked into his life, laid down on a twin-size mattress, and just started to exist there without asking for permission because he didn’t know where he was yet. And Hugh was staring at the kid with brown skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, while hiding behind a big closet he kept there, thinking about how to tell him “Hello. What’s your name? I’d really like to know about you.”

Too bad he always stopped at “Hello”. Too bad it all happened inside his head.

When he was a kid, not a lot of people talked about prodigies in a positive light, so he grew up thinking that his powers were something he needed to keep a secret for everyone and that he had to blend in with the other kids in order to survive, and there was no adult in his life that told him otherwise. But during the Age of Anarchy, the whole Council began to know more prodigies from all over the world, who had different beliefs about what it meant to be a prodigy. During patrol, Simon told him about this old European lady he talked to, who was also a prodigy, and assured him she would be able to recognize every single one of them even without their superhero costumes. When Hugh said that sounded a little bit dangerous, Simon laughed it off and added that what she meant to say was that all prodigies were made of the same stardust and that it was always trying to find a way back to the space where it belonged, that was the reason why many prodigies were drawn to each other even if they just crossed paths by mere chance.

If it was true, then it explained why Hugh could tell Simon was a prodigy from the first moment he looked him in the eye. And it explained why he wanted to be his friend so much, even before knowing that piece of information.

Simon did remember when was the first time he saw Hugh. Or at least one of the first times.

“You were sitting on the ground and staring at a bug. like a beetle or something...” he said. They were walking through the neighborhood, holding hands, and Adrian was in front of them, trying to get the hang of his new skate shoes with wheels. He had asked his dads to give him his space because he had seen another kid at Headquarters using them too and he was sure he could teach himself how to use them. “ And you were really concentrated, completely quiet when an adult came and killed it.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Like— on purpose?”

“I don’t know, they were just walking,” Simon shrugged. “But you didn’t even say anything, just… stayed there. And a raccoon walked in front of you, and you decided to follow it to the trash can he lived in, and when you tried to touch it, he and his whole extended family threw themselves at you.”

Hugh probably looked worried or something, because Simon tilted his head and asked him: “You remember that, do you?”

And he didn’t. “It sounds like me,” he said, “I liked beetles when I was a kid. Not sure about the raccoon attack though because I’ve always hated raccoons and getting too close to trash cans.”

“And have you ever stopped to think about why you hate that so much?”

“Because trash cans are a focus of infection. Same as raccoons. I would never follow one of those rats with masks.”

“Hugh, when you were a kid, I saw you eating cereal out of a bucket, I don’t know why you’re acting like you’re better than the rest of us for not following raccoons— which you did.”

“I did not.”

“And you know what I thought?” Simon asked as if he hadn’t heard Hugh. “I thought—”

“You thought I was a poor kid who needed your help.”

“No, I thought you were the weirdest fucking kid I had ever met. And I walked away.”

Then he winked at him, letting him know he was joking. But Hugh felt really offended on behalf of his younger self anyways. “And why do you remember that but I don’t?”

“I was invisible. And I wanted to see what you were up to.”

Then, Adrian fell to the ground and screamed “DADDY!”. Neither of them was really sure of who he was talking to, so they just helped him get on his feet again and told him he should be more careful, ending their conversation there.

That year, he gave Simon a card he bought at the supermarket that he decorated with raccoon stickers he found on Adrian’s backpack, and he even used all his artistic abilities to draw a speech bubble that said “I love you”. Simon also gave him a card, but instead, it was decorated with hearts and flowers and looked a lot more like what a card for an occasion like that was supposed to look like. They gave each other cards because the first-anniversary gift, according to tradition, was something made of paper. He could tell what Simon gave him every single year, but some of the honorable mentions were the leather jacket he never used because Kasumi told him that buying things made of leather was unethical and “not green”, a wooden figurine of the two of them he found at a local flea market, and a pottery coffee mug he did himself when he and Tamaya took pottery classes, which Evander broke one day he went to the house.

So, yes, Simon always gave him nice things. And he kept every single one of them. The card was between the album photos and newspaper cutouts. The leather jacket remained in the closet not to be seen ever again. The wood figurine was in the living room (and will stay there even after he was dead because if Adrian ever dared to take it somewhere else, like he had tried to do before, he was going to haunt him until he put it back where it belonged), and eventually, Evander glued together the pottery coffee mug and gave it back to him, probably trying to make clear he was really sorry about breaking it, without really saying it out loud.

It was a nice tradition. Especially because it was almost impossible to fuck up and Hugh could come up with nice gifts for Simon too.

And now it wasn’t going to be the exception.

That year’s traditional theme was aluminum. At first, he was a little bit confused because the only aluminum he knew about was the aluminum foil they had in the kitchen until he spoke with Tamaya over the phone, and she told him there were a lot more things that were made of aluminum other than foil. She had stayed at her house ever since what had happened in the Arena. Simon told him and Kasumi it would be nice if they took turns to call her one time a day to check on her, and that day, it was Hugh’s turn.

She wasn’t mad at him, which meant she was having a less shitty day than other times it had been his turn to call her. She even gave him the phone number of a place where he could buy something for Simon, that was not so far away from Headquarters. Before hanging up, she reminded him to make sure Kasumi was eating during lunch breaks and made him promise he was going to double-check, just because that's what she would do if she were there. After doing what Tamaya asked him to do (Kasumi started to eat her salad as soon as he walked into the room, and he stayed there until she finished the whole plate), he called the store and knew exactly what he wanted to ask for.

It had been a little difficult to pick it up from the store because Simon was always with him, but the anniversary was on Sunday, so he said that someone had called him to go to Headquarters and headed out before anyone could ask for more explanations. He arrived at the store a few minutes before they closed and the owner told him he wasn’t sure if he was going to arrive on time. Then, he proceeded to show him the final product, and Hugh thought it looked exactly as what he had in mind. The daughter of the owner put the gift inside a box and decorated it with purple wrapping paper and a silver bow, and it was ready to go.

When he arrived at the house, Simon was already preparing dinner and the kids were eating ramen in the living room while watching a movie. He put the gift on the coffee table and told them it was time to get ready for bed.

Simon and Hugh had always been good at assigning each of them chores to do around the house. When Max was living in his quarantine area, Hugh stayed with him after Simon and Adrian went home. He bathed him, helped him brush his teeth, and then put him to bed. Meanwhile, Simon cooked something for Adrian, helped him with his homework, played with him for a while, and when Hugh went home, he helped him with his night routine the same way he had helped Max, while Simon prepared tomorrow’s lunches.

Adrian was a pretty calm kid during bath time (at least most of the time). He would dare to say he liked it, probably a little too much because he didn’t bathe himself until he was almost ten years old. Max, on the other hand, was a completely different story. It was a lot easier to control him when he was a baby, but the older he got, the more difficult it became to get him inside the tub. He tried to distract him with other things, made a lot of excuses, and even hid under the bed so his dad couldn’t see him. Simon thought it wasn’t a normal reaction and that they needed to make sure Max was alright, but Hugh didn’t believe Max’s behavior was weird because when he was a kid he threw even bigger tantrums each time he was told it was bath time. He screamed while he had shampoo on his hair, bawled while he was putting on his pajamas, and sobbed for at least ten minutes after he was tucked into bed. At the ripe age of four years old, he went as far as running down the street completely naked because he was already in the tub, waiting for his aunt to find a clean towel between all the mess they had around the house when he decided that wasn’t going to work out and just walked outside the house, without wearing any clothes. A minute later, he heard his aunt screaming “HUGH, YOU LITTLE BITCH—” and knew he was in danger, so he began to run as fast as he could until he tripped and he was taken back to the bathroom (while he screamed and kicked, like the demon child he was.)

“Well, I guess it makes sense why you acted like that,” Simon answered, “but I want to make sure everything is fine with Max. For my own comfort.”

Simon talked with Max the next day, and apparently, he came to the conclusion he was just someone who thought that bathing was a waste of time, like Hugh did when he was his age. His kid just showed it in a less… explosive manner. Because yeah, Max had never thrown a tantrum because of that. Not at least until the other night, when Simon told him to go take a shower after he spent the whole day outside with Nova and got his clothes all dirty. For some reason, Max got super pissed at the idea of his own father giving him a reasonable order, and after going to the bathroom and taking off his clothes, he started to yell that he was already clean and that he didn’t need to take a shower. Hugh and Adrian were in the living room talking about some mundane topic when they saw a naked and almost maniac Max running around the house, and a screaming and desperate Simon with a white towel in his hands, trying to catch him before he headed out of the house and the neighbors saw him.

Simon almost had a panic attack after that, when Adrian finally was the one to catch Max and convince him to go take a shower, because in his own words, “you smell like a dead dog, my friend” (Adrian knew what he was dealing with because he had done the same thing when he was a kid). And Hugh didn’t want Simon to go through the same experience again, especially that night.

“I was a well-behaved kid,” Simon told him, while they cuddled under the covers. “I almost never cried. And I most certainly never complained about bath time.”

“Everyone has a childhood story that involves running around completely naked because you didn’t want to get on the tub.”

“I don’t… think so.” Hugh scoffed in response. “Actually, I was so well-behaved, one time my mom closed the car door and smashed my fingers, but I didn’t even complain about it—”

“You should have complained about it,” Hugh said.

Simon didn’t hear him. “I think maybe Max is just going through a phase.”

“Or maybe our son is a normal kid and you are the Antichrist for not crying when your mother smashed your fingers.”

And he whispered: “Well— maybe, I guess.”

Luckily, Max was feeling nice and he followed the night routine without causing any more problems, and just asked Adrian to read him a bedtime story. Forty minutes later, Adrian went back downstairs and told them he was going to sleep too (but Hugh knew he was going to stay up late talking with his team.)

Simon took a few minutes after that to finish the dinner because the dessert was still in the oven. Hugh waited for him, sitting on the couch, eating the leftovers of Adrian’s ramen and watching whatever thing was on TV, when suddenly had the feeling someone was staring at him. He turned around and even though he didn’t saw anyone, he still said:

“Simon, I know you’re there.”

And he got no answer.

Then, when he decided to let it go and continue watching TV, Simon was sitting on the coffee table, with the gift box on his lap.

“Can you stop doing that?” Hugh asked him.

“No, it’s part of my charm—” Simon shook the box a little, like a kid would do on Christmas morning “—Is this my gift?”

“No. I bought it for my other husband. But you can open it, I guess.”

Simon shrugged and opened it. He gasped and covered his mouth with his hand, but he still could tell he was smiling. “Love—”

“You like them?”

Hugh had bought a couple of aluminum wine cups, decorated with a blue and purple stripe on the top. He extended his hand to turn on the lamp next to him and then patted the space next to him. “You wanna see something really cool?” he asked him.

Simon sat down next to him, holding one of the cups. Then Hugh grabbed him gently by the wrists and put the cup under the light, allowing both of them to see the hidden message written on the aluminum.

He couldn’t exactly read it because he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but Simon could.

“I’ll forever choose you,” he read. “It’s what—”

“It’s what I said during my vows,” Hugh answered, “and I still mean it.”

Simon leaned against him and Hugh took it as a chance to kiss him on the corner of his lips. “I’m going to kill your other husband,” Simon whispered.

“I don’t think you got it— but actually you’re the other husband.”

“I’m allowing you to make those jokes because I’m too happy to pretend I’m mad at you for saying them, okay? Just wanted to make that clear, so you don’t go around trying to push your luck.” He continued looking at the cup and putting it under the light to read its message again and again. “Can we use these cups? You know— are they made for drinking or are they just decorative?”

“I guess we can,” Hugh answered. “I don’t see why not. Cups are made for drinking.”

“Then it’s a good thing I brought us wine—” he got up with difficulty and grabbed the other cup from inside the box “—Are you hungry?”

He really wasn’t. Adrian’s leftovers were enough for him. But he still had a little space for more, so he nodded and took Simon’s hand before he got on his tiptoes and put his hands over his eyes. “Follow my lead.”

Even after arriving at the kitchen, Simon asked him to keep his eyes closed. He obeyed, and a couple of seconds later, he finally gave him the sign to open them, appearing behind the kitchen bar and waving his empty hands with a silly smile on his face.

Hugh covered his whole face with his hand to hide the fact that he was laughing.

“Now— do you like it?” Simon asked (still making jazz hands).

Oh, no, he liked it.

But even if he did, he could hear his own voice saying inside his head to make sure to sugarcoat whatever he had to say about one small detail that, unfortunately, was the first thing he noticed because he was that mean.

It was an amazing dinner. The main dish was chicken alfredo, and there was a small basket with bread from the supermarket they went every week to buy groceries (the same one Hugh didn’t go to anymore because last time he had almost hate-crimed a cashier because… reasons, maybe). He had lighted up some candles they kept around the house in case the power went out during the night and there was a white tablecloth covering part of the kitchen bar. Simon also took the time to look through the garage for the chinaware they only used for very special occasions and that Hugh insisted on hiding it in the garage since he didn’t trust his kids and believed they would break it at the first chance they got. And he didn't lie when he said he had bought a bottle of wine. Actually, he knew it was an expensive wine because it was the same brand as the one they drank during their wedding. It must have been an absolute hell trying to find it, considering that ten years had gone by since then.

But Simon had made a tiny mistake.

And it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. It was just that… if he had a coin for every time Simon had made that exact mistake, he would have two coins.

Which wasn’t a lot of coins; but it was funny it happened twice.

During the Gala, there had been a silent auction to replace some of the stolen drugs. Hugh was going crazy, trying to make sure everything was going according to plan, but Simon insisted that, as members of the Council, they needed to support the fundraising.

At first, Hugh didn’t notice what Simon had done. He had a lot of things going through his mind, like what if someone put a bomb on the ceiling and blew the whole building, if Adrian had drawn a callalily for every single centerpiece, or if Max had asked him to buy him more markers and construction paper since last week or last month. He also was trying to ignore how uncomfortable the suit he was wearing felt, which felt kind of tight when he raised his arms a little bit. Plus, the lights were too bright, the music was too freaking loud for a formal Gala, and for some reason, he was sure he could hear every single conversation that was going on there, at the same time he didn’t understand a single word coming out of those people’s mouths.

But suddenly…

Suddenly Simon grabbed him by the arm and said:

“I got this for you.”

“Huh?”

“I got this for you—” and he pointed at something on the table.

For the split of a second, he thought that Simon was referring to the chocolate cake that was right in the middle of everything, that was decorated with small pearls of white chocolate and a cherry on top. Which would have been a really kind and romantic gesture because chocolate cake would always have a special place in his heart.

But then, he noticed that actually, he was talking about the latticework pie that was right next to it, inside a little transparent box with a golden ribbon around it.

It looked nice; but the chocolate cake looked a lot better from his point of view.

“Simon—”

“Yes, I know technically I haven’t gotten it yet,” Simon said while jotting down his bidding number on a sheet of paper, “but I’m gonna win this and we’re gonna eat pie, like the winners we are.”

“Simon—”

“Do you wanna be a winner or not?”

“Simon—”

Simon finally looked at him, still holding the pen he had used to write down the bidding number.

Hugh had reacted a little bit too late.

So he just sighed, rested his chin on Simon’s head for a couple of seconds, and then asked him if also thought the lights were too bright (“No, but you can talk to someone and see if there’s something they can do about it. Just don’t go all Captain Chromium on them.” “That’s not a phrase other people use.” “Kasumi does.”)

Now, the Gala wasn’t a memory he liked to replay inside his head constantly because while they were there, their kids were risking their lives fighting against people they shouldn’t even be worried about. He felt guilty when he remembered that he was dancing with Simon in a small corner of the room, where they were sure no one could see them (not because they were embarrassed or scared but because Simon didn’t like to be surrounded by a lot of people, and honestly, Hugh wasn’t in the mood for dealing with that either). He was starting to think “Hey, maybe I’m having fun” and Simon was this close to kissing him, but one second after that, they were notified about what had happened to Max and had to rush to the hospital.

It had been one of the worst nights of his life. The last time he thought about it, was while reading Max a book they had just bought for him (“Tough Guys (Have Feelings Too)”). Max mentioned something about Adrian taking him to eat pie that afternoon and “going all Captain Chromium” on him for something he didn’t understand but sounded like normal sibling stuff, and suddenly Hugh vividly remembered the latticework pie Simon had put a bid on.

They never got to eat it.

Which was good because he knew that if he had gotten to eat some, knowing there had been a chocolate cake right next to it that they could have gotten instead of that freaking pie, his night would have been even worse.

Not like your kid almost dying was bad enough though.

“Keep reading the book, Hugh,” Max told him, pretending to be disappointed after he told him that story about the Gala. “Let’s keep the trauma talk for Therapy Thursday.”

(That was how Simon called Thursdays now. It was the day the four of them went to family therapy. Everyone thought it was a stupid way to call it, even Hugh, but he always told his kids it was an incredible way to motivate them, that Simon was trying his best, and that next time he heard them make fun about “Therapy Thursdays”, calling it “$200 Nap Thursdays”, he was going to tell the fucking shrink and they were going to go to family therapy two times a week.)

And there it was.

Again.

The infamous latticework pie.

But when he saw it, he didn’t feel anything else but the impulse to laugh out loud.

“I like it a lot,” he answered.

“You’re putting on the sugar jacket!” Simon exclaimed.

“No, I’m not!” Hugh told him, still laughing.

“No, I can see it!” Simon insisted. “You’re doing it, you always laugh when you do it!”

“What are you talking about?” He cleared his throat. “I’m way too good at sugarcoating, no one notices when—”

“I’m going to keep calling it sugar jacket,” Simon interrupted him, crossing his arms and staring at him with narrowing eyes. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

“And I’m going to keep making fun of you for it. Imagine me putting on a sugar jacket, Simon. It would have to be a huge jacket. The house would be infested with ants.”

But Simon wasn’t interested in the logistics of keeping a sugar jacket inside the house. “It’s like what you did last week. Oh, yeah, Simon, that’s so good—” He scoffed “—I know you hated that souffle because I hated it too.”

“But I liked that souffle! It was pretty good, I don’t know why you hated it.”

“The more you insist on that, the less I’m going to believe you.”

Hugh sat down on one of the kitchen bar stools and hid his face with his hands until he stopped laughing. When he finally did, he saw Simon smiling, even if he was trying to hide it.

“Si—” Simon raised his eyebrows as if he were saying “Hey” with them “—Can I get some wine?”

He thought about it for a second.

“Just because I love you—” and he began to pour it into one of their wine cups. Then, he walked towards Hugh, and with one hand, he took his wine cup, and with the other, he pulled Simon closer to him.

“And I love this,” he whispered. “I loved what you did for me, it’s just what I asked for.”

Simon’s smile got even wider. “I know I said we were gonna have cake but— I know you like pie a little bit more.”

Hugh took a sip of wine.

“Because… you do, don’t you?”

So he left the wine cup on the kitchen bar, grabbed Simon by the waist— and he told him the truth.

“I do now.”

Before Simon could ask him what he meant with that extra “now”, he leaned over and kissed him.

Now it was not the time to talk about that.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #the warden and the captain are sitting in a tree #sorry but i had to complain about tres leches cake #i reflect all my hate for that thing in my problematic son lol #plus the chicken alfredo is a reference to royal jewels #and there's also a hcttr reference kjsdfhksdfj #and the story of the naked kid running down the street... yeah parcially based on real events <3 #one time i saw one of my neighboor's kid playing outside without any clothes on #it was so weird i had to ask my mom if she saw it too #and she told me a lot of kids do that so JSHDKJSJK #well now im going to stop talking- #tags are supposed to be used for useful things #dUDE I HAD TO LOOK FOR THE ENGLISH VERSION OF ARCHENEMIES BC A LOT OF SMALL DETAILS GOT LOST IN THE SPANISH VERSION #and i wanted to be as acurrate as posible x'd #ok im going to go now x'd #obsi's writs

[kuriboo]

taking root in the soil

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) Relationships: Lauriam & Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts),Marluxia & Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Lauriam & Terra (Kingdom Hearts) Characters: Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), Terra (Kingdom Hearts), Ventus (Kingdom Hearts), Aqua (Kingdom Hearts), Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts) Additional Tags: Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Terrariam Week 2021, Hurt/Comfort, Marluxia Is Lauriam (Kingdom Hearts), spoilers for both kh3 and khux Word Count: 2,436

On twitter there was an event for Terrariam Week, focusing on the relationship between Terra & Lauriam/Marluxia. I wrote for a few prompts, I had to cut it off at 3 but it was a lot of fun to write! Khux really made me care a lot about Lauriam so this really gave me an excuse to write him lol but anyway, I’ll post all the days’ entries here with the prompts that go with them.This is also posted on ao3; the link to ao3 will be in the notes of this post! I’ll also post the link to the terrariam week account in the notes.

You can also keep reading below.

⁂

Day 1: Meet-Cute

Lauriam stared down at his black cloak. He was sick of this thing.

The cloak was supposed to protect his heart from darkness. It was also a symbol of his status as a former member of Organization 13. It was a symbol of the person he became without his memories, turning against everything he was supposed to be. Guardian of Light turned Seeker of Darkness. Keyblade wielder turned assassin.

He felt like a traitor. He didn’t just turn against the original Organization, he turned against everything he used to stand for. He forgot about his sister, his friends, everything, and he was only now just starting to remember.

Well, he started to remember as Sora defeated him. His memories were still coming back. He remembered being a Dandelion, he remembered being a Union leader, he remembered Strelitzia…

Strelitzia…

He forgot about his own sister.

Lauriam laughed, a single tear falling down his face. It landed with a small splash on a flower below him, the flower just one of many surrounding him in this field. It was so similar to the one where he appeared after leaving Daybreak Town, where he started his search for Strelitzia.

He’d have to look for Elrena. Had she begun to remember? If not, he would have to try to help her. He owed that to her, for standing beside him for so long, even after they lost their memories.

A step crunching the flowers behind him broke Lauriam’s thoughts. He whirled around to see who it was.

Oh, Lauriam recognized that face. His hair was a different color, brown instead of white, but Lauriam was no fool. This was one of Xehanort’s many forms back again. Lauriam summoned his Keyblade in his hands. Would he never be able to escape him?

Xehanort stopped. He appeared confused. “You’re… Marluxia, right?

“It’s Lauriam now,” Lauriam corrected. “And I’ll thank you to remember that. You won’t get me to join your schemes anymore, Xehanort.”

“Xehanort?” He blinked, still confused. “No, no, Xehanort doesn’t have control over me anymore. I’m free now. My name is Terra.”

“Terra.” Lauriam kept his stance. Xehanort wasn’t above playing tricks. “And why should I trust you, ‘Terra’?”

“You don’t have to.” Terra held his hands up in front of him, palms out. “We’re not here to look for you. This is an accident.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lauriam’s grip on his Keyblade tightened. The Organization? “And what are you looking for, then?”

“Two of my friends are here with me.” Terra hesitated. “We’ve been searching different worlds for… Sora.”

Sora? There was a name Lauriam felt like he could trust now. Lauriam could still remember trying to turn the boy into a puppet. How ironic.

“Terra!”

Lauriam turned as he heard another voice call out to Terra. The person it belonged to…

Memories came flooding back. The blonde hair, the clothes he was wearing. Lauriam knew this person. Not from the Organization, but before.

“I asked the dwarves about him,” he told Terra without preamble. “They said no one’s seen him or heard anything about him. I guess Sora isn’t—“ He broke off, staring at Lauriam. “…Who are you?”

Lauriam knew him. Ventus, another former Union leader. Well, Ven wasn’t originally chosen for the role, but Lauriam wasn’t angry at him about it anymore. It wasn’t Ven’s fault he was used by Darkness.

“Hey, are you crying?” Ven asked.

Lauriam reached up to touch his cheek. It was wet. He was crying again. His heart must be overwhelmed, feeling so many emotions already when he wasn’t used to it anymore. “You’re the first… Nevermind. We’ve met before, but you must not remember me.” The Divine Rose disappeared from Lauriam’s hand. “My name is Lauriam. It’s good to see you again, Ven.”

“…Oh. I’m sorry.” Ven looked down at the ground. “You’re not the first friend I’ve met who I’ve forgotten. I can’t remember anything before I met Terra and Aqua…”

Terra put his hand on Ven’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“He’s right.” Lauriam smiled, though it hurt. Why did hearts make things so difficult? “I only just remembered myself. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

He wasn't upset. Lauriam was just… disappointed. Not with Ven himself. But just as he started to remember again, he finally found another Union leader, only for said Union leader to have also forgotten. Fate could be cruel.

“I never imagined the world you came from to be like this. It’s strange to see you again here, of all places,” Terra admitted.

“I’m not from this world. The world I’m from…” Lauriam sighed. “It was destroyed a long time ago. This is where I found myself after I left.”

“Then can you come with us? To our world?” Ven blurted out. “I mean, you don’t have to, but… It would be nice to get to know you again! And maybe you can help me remember again!”

“You want me to…come with you?” Lauriam asked.

“We’ve been looking for Sora, but we’ve had to take breaks back home. I think Aqua will agree it’s about time for another one,” Terra said. “It would be nice to get to know you better…outside of everything before.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, if you all will have me,” Lauriam answered. “And if I could help you find Sora again as well, it’d be the least I could do to make amends with him.”

And maybe find Elrena as well, and even Strelitzia, if they were searching many different worlds. Besides, where else could he go?

⁂

Day 2: New Beginnings

“Welcome to the Land of Departure.”

Lauriam looked around as Terra, Aqua, and Ventus led him through this new world. (New to him, at least.) Most of what he could see was the large building in front of them. It almost felt familiar; it must be the size, since the Castle That Never Was and Castle Oblivion seemed about as big as this place was. There was some greenery around, but not many flowers or anything like that.

Lauriam was okay with that. He was sure he’d still see the last place he saw his sister in his dreams.

“Come on!” Aqua led the group inside.

He was soon brought into a huge room. There were a couple of chairs, and it was nicely decorated, but there was a lot of empty space. Was this room used for training, or something else?

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s home,” Terra joked.

It was amazing how big this place seemed to be compared to what Lauriam was used to. “So this is the kind of place Keyblade wielders train these days?”

“I’m sure it’s not much compared to what you used to have,” Aqua said.

Lauriam chuckled. “When I was training, we were sent to different worlds all the time doing different missions. So, the places we got to stay in were rather small, but we were rarely there when we weren’t sleeping. I got to stay in the tower as a Union leader, though, which was much bigger. Too big, actually, it was easy to get lost in.”

As for after that… “As part of the…Organization, it wasn’t much different from when I was training. We had small rooms, but were constantly in other worlds for different missions. So, for the most part, this is actually bigger than I’m used to.”

“So a lot has changed…” Ven had a contemplative look on his face. “Can you tell us more? About what it was like back then? I wish I could remember…”

“Of course I can,” Lauriam said. He could tell more about the good times, anyway. He’d rather not get into the bad times, especially those relating to Darkness and his sister. But there were plenty of good times to reflect back on. “But we should probably find somewhere to sit, first. This could get long.”

⁂

“I’m assuming you want to get out of that coat.”

It had gotten late. Ven had gone to bed not long ago, and Aqua had just done the same. Ventus had listened eagerly to Lauriam’s recollections happily, and threw in his questions constantly. Now it was just Terra and Lauriam left.

Lauriam knew what Terra was getting at. He was sick of this black coat. It was supposed to protect his heart from darkness, but had come to symbolize something much worse. A period of his life that was now past.

“If you have anything else I could try, I would appreciate it,” Lauriam responded. “I would rather avoid wearing this thing unless I absolutely need to.”

“We’ve got spare clothes around. Stuff that doesn’t fit anyone. I’ll try to find whatever I can for you to try on.”

Lauriam thanked Terra as Terra walked off, going off to find the clothes in question. Now Lauriam was left alone with his thoughts, but all he could think about was what he was missing now that his memory had returned. He was missing Strelitzia, of course he was missing her. He was also missing Brain, Skuld, and Ephemer. He missed the Ventus that remembered who he was. The only thing that he had left from those times was his Keyblade, back to him now that he’d regained his heart.

Ironic, considering how before he’d regained his memories, he’d yearned for a Keyblade of his own.

Soon, Terra was back with a pile of clothes in his arm, more than Lauriam had been expecting.

“I can take you to a room to try them on,” Terra told him. “Hopefully something in here will fit you.”

Once Lauriam was there and alone, he started going through the pile. Most of it didn’t fit him, which he expected. It wasn’t like all the clothes were magically going to fit him. But he was able to find enough for a new outfit. A black button-up shirt and beige pants. He could keep his Organization boots on for now, so he wasn’t pressed for new shoes. Once the outfit was on, Lauriam walked back to where Terra was waiting, carrying his Organization coat over his shoulder.

“Well, what do you think?” Lauriam asked. “It’s certainly not my outfit from the old days, but I think it’ll do.”

“It looks great,” Terra said, a smile forming on his face. “It’s a fresh start. A new beginning for you.”

A new beginning… Lauriam liked that.

⁂

Day 5: Big Brothers Dynamic (or Day 3: Hurt/Comfort)

“He really looks up to you.”

Terra paused in his training. He looked over and noticed Lauriam watching him. Truthfully, Lauriam had been watching for a while, but Terra seemed so into his training that he hadn’t noticed.

“Who?” Terra asked.

“Ven,” Lauriam clarified. “He admires you, both you and Aqua.” He chuckled. “Ironic, considering he’s been a wielder much longer than you two.”

Terra shook his head. “Aqua deserves all the admiration, not me. I admire her, too. But after all I did to push him away, I’m lucky he looks up to me at all.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the way Xehanort manipulated you.” Lauriam frowned. “You’re far from his only victim. He has a knack for pulling in people who are lost, or missing something. It’s not luck or a mistake that Ven admires you; you came out of it all and took back everything that was yours.”

“I can’t agree with you, but I appreciate it.” Terra’s keyblade disappeared. “You know, you’re one of the first people that knew Ven before he lost his memory. After Chirithy, I mean.”

“Am I?” Lauriam blinked. “I’m…surprised, though really I shouldn’t be. Only the Union leaders and Elrena made it out of our world, and I haven’t found any of the other leaders since. Only Elrena, and now Ven, but Ven and Elrena hardly knew each other.”

“What was he like? Before he lost his memory?”

“Not so different, as far as I can tell. He was equal to the rest of us but still felt inferior, and felt he had to prove himself. He was a good friend, almost like a younger brother to the rest of us. He…”

Marluxia’s expression darkened. “He has more in common with you than either of you know.”

“…What do you mean?”

“He deserves better than to remember. If the full story comes out, he should be the first to know. But… Ven is part of the reason my sister disappeared.”

“Your…sister? What happened?”

Lauriam held up a hand. “Ven is not the one at fault. I forgave him a long time ago. Still, one of the reasons I left our world was to look for her. She has to be out there somewhere, and I won’t give up looking until I find her.”

Terra remembered what it felt like, when he returned home to find Master Eraqus attacking Ven. At that moment, it didn’t matter why their master was attacking him. Nothing could have stopped Terra from protecting Ven. He felt horrified that anyone would attack Ven, but the idea that their master felt he had to made Terra feel sick.”

He tried to picture it. Coming back to the Land of Departure to learn that Ven was completely gone. It was the closest he could think of based on what little Lauriam had described. “I don’t know what I’d do if I found out Ven was gone.”

“I think I nearly lost myself to the darkness when I learned what happened,” Lauriam said. He looked away. “I’m not proud of that moment, but I’m glad my friends were able to keep me from…” He sighed. “Well, that wasn’t long before I lost my memory and let myself become a vessel of darkness anyway, so I’m behind on my search.”

“Better late than never, though, right?” Terra smiled. “We’ll help you find your sister. I know I’d never stop looking if it were Ven, and we’re still looking for Sora anyway. Besides, we owe it to you as one of Ven’s friends.”

“You owe me nothing,” Lauriam protested. “I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

“Then think of it this way: we’ll be helping each other. We won’t take no for an answer. But first…” Terra summoned his Keyblade. “Get your Keyblade. You’re joining in on training.”

“I’m more than a bit rusty,” Lauriam admitted, though he summoned his own Keyblade anyway. “I suppose it’s more reason for me to train.”

“I want to see how you fight. How strong you are. I’m curious about how much has changed since you and Ven’s time,” Terra said. “You better be ready.”

“I’ll admit, I’m curious as well.” Lauriam smirked. “I’ve been ready for ages.”

#terrariam week #terrariam week 2021 #kingdom hearts #tater writes

[riversofmars]

May I propose..River and Missy stumbling upon 13 and immediately both go to flirting w her

My lovely anon, I deeply apologise for how long it has taken me to do this. And I have to confess, this is only part one, it has turned out so long that I’m having to post it in two parts! Plus I’m not quite done with the ending and if I hadn’t split it up, it would have been another couple of days lol.

Anyway, I really hope you like this. As promised, probably not what you expected but I got slightly obsessed with the idea of doing a cyberpunk inspired piece so here you are! Read on AO3 or below :)

At The End Of The Universe

The Doctor locked up the TARDIS, just to be safe. At the end of time, one did not want to get stuck or have one’s means of escape stolen. She had often wondered what it actually was like. The very last day of the universe. She had visited once before, watching from Me’s reality bubble. Me had been watching the stars die and she had called it beautiful and the Doctor had found it sad. Me had insisted that it was both and that that wasn’t something the Doctor could ever understand… She had been right. The people around her always seem to know her better than she knew herself.

Now, she certainly couldn’t find any beauty in this place and, yet she was fascinated. This was it, the last straw, where the last people in the universe had gathered. Admittedly, she wasn't actually sure that was entirely true but these people seemed to think they were so who was she to argue? She was too exhausted to argue and at the end of everything, no-one had time to waste on such technicalities. In approximately twelves hours, death was coming for them all and there was nowhere to run.

The Doctor looked around, taking in the atmosphere. It was getting cold, probably because the nearby star was already dying. There was very little natural light now, not that it would have reached the ground through the thick smog anyway. The only light down here was from the garish neon advertisements and signs.

“I bet this has always been an awful place…“ The Doctor started saying but stopped herself. She was alone. There was no-one to talk to on this particular trip. Ryan, Yaz and Graham were still on Earth. They didn’t even know she had made it off Gallifrey in one piece, or that she had ended up in prison shortly after… And after her escape, she had felt no great need to seek them out. Not yet anyway. Her path had lead her here instead. To the end of the universe, with no companions to talk to, no-one to share the experience with. It was probably better that way, this wasn’t a trip she wanted to be sharing with anyone.

She looked around some more and decided, yes, this really must have been an awful place all along. The sort of world where only the rich and powerful flourish and everyone else cowers in the sewers. The sort of place where law and morality would break down in no time at all as the end of days drew near. The sort of place where people would want to see the universe out in delirium. And people around here have already started. They were singing in the streets, shouting, dancing, laughing, some people are crying whether with it was laughter or hysterical fear.

Those that didn’t have a time machine to escape crunch time were each facing up to the inevitable in their own way. They are incredibly brave, the Doctor thought, braver than she had ever been. She would be frantically searching for a way out and try to run away, she couldn’t deny that. She was so tired of running but she just couldn’t stop. She wished she could just stand still and face what was up ahead, head held high, just for once. But it was like a compulsion, she just had to keep going. It was always just one more adventure… maybe the next one will be the one. Maybe that would be the one that would finally give her some answers. Or closure. Or even some sort of happiness or contentment. Something, anything, to satisfy that urge to keep going. Sometimes, she forgot what she was searching for. She had been going for so long now. What purpose did this particular trip serve? By this point it was probably just to make sense of things. Of herself. Her own existence. Her life. The things that had been done to her. And the things that happened because of her. And to try and forget about them.

She could still see it. Every time she closed her eyes, she was right back in the ruins of Gallifrey. She would feel the burning heat from the flames. She would get a burning in her chest from the smoke. Her eyes would be burning from the dust. Gallifrey was burning her from the inside still. Her memories were eating at her, burning all the walls she’d built to protect myself, the structures that held her up and kept her going. She had no idea how to stop this wildfire. Maybe on her next trip, she’d find a way but now, she was here. At the edge of the universe, at the end of everything. This was not the place where she’d find her answers but maybe she could fight fire with fire for a time. Maybe she could gain a reprieve before the flames engulfed her.

She started to make her way down the street. The music was coming from somewhere up ahead. The bass was so deep, the vibrations were making her shake. She could smell alcohol now, the streets were literally drenched in it, this party had been going on for days. It wasn't just alcohol, there were chemicals, drugs, sweat, vomit, sex… At the end of everything, society, morals, inhibitions, right and wrong, disintegrated right before your eyes. There was no need for such human constructs now. Everyone here was going to die in twelve hours, the Doctor could see why they’d rather be enjoying themselves. The biggest, baddest party of the universe. The last party. On the last planet. In the last hours. No-one could charge and judge you now. What better place to drown one’s sorrows, get perspective and forget for a time?

“Alright lovely? Can we interest you in a good time?“ A young man yelled to her from across the street. There was a group of them, young people who still had so much of their life ahead of them, cut tragically short. Under normal circumstances, the Doctor, or anyone else for that matter, would have kept going, but the Doctor stepped closer.

“What’s your poison?“ She asked, eying the selection of drinks and other substances spread out over the hood of a burned out vehicle.

“By this point, does it really matter?“ One of the lads laughed taking a gulp from a half empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Suppose not.“ The Doctor chuckled and picked up a bottle she at least recognised the brand name of and took a swing. The alcohol burnt her throat. It was pure and disgusting but it was just what she needed. “Mind if I take this?“ She gave the bottle a little shake to indicate what she was talking about. Her question got swallowed up in the deafening noise of an explosion barely a block away. Some people probably got bored of waiting for the end. The Doctor took another swing from the bottle as her eyes fell on some colourful tablets. She picked up a couple, red and blue, turned them between her fingers as if they were smarties. “The red pill or the blue pill…“ She looked up to the group laughing to herself a little. “This would be funny and poignant if The Matrix was still a thing at the end of the universe…“

“You’re not even scared, are you.“ One of the boys grinned, clearly impressed, he stumbled a little, struggling to keep himself upright as he leant forward onto the hood of the vehicle.

“Scared of what?“ The Doctor raised her eyebrows without looking at him. She focused on the pills in her hand. What was the worst that could happen? These people weren’t trying to kill themselves, they were trying to have a good time so this was probably perfectly safe… and if it wasn’t?

“You know… the end. And doing drugs with people you’ve never met before.“ He grinned.

“I’m just here to have a good time.“ She shrugged as she threw both tablets into her mouth like candy and washed them down.

“I can show you a good time.“ He reached out to cup her cheek but misjudged the distance, reaching into nothingness. His friends laughed.

“Maybe later.“ The Doctor chuckled with a wink.

“Don’t keep me waiting all night, it’s not long now.“ He retorted trying his best to hide his disappointment.

“Thanks for this.“ She downed the rest of the bottle as the others cheered her finishing it. She placed the empty bottle back on the make shift table and waved goodbye to them. She only vaguely took notice of the sound of breaking glass as the youngsters smashed her empty bottle just because they could.

She followed the sound of the music as she made her way along the crowded streets, people bumped into her, unaware of their surroundings, in a drug induced haze. The Doctor was beginning to feel the effects herself. Her hearts picked up speed, she felt an indescribable rush, as her brain flooded with dopamine. The colours seemed more vivid, her skin tingled, as if she was seeing, experiencing more than ever before. Some remaining rational part of her brain insisted that these feelings weren’t real, that it was an illusion and that she would pay a price when they wore off but for now, she couldn’t care less.

She followed the sound of the music, the bass running trough her as she descended stairs to a make shift nightclub. It really just looked like a massive warehouse but people were dancing and drinking, jerking to the music, partying to their heart’s content. The Doctor steadied herself against the wall, feeling the effects of the drugs, allowing her senses to be flooded. She smiled to herself, her heart felt lighter, as if a burden was being lifted and only the here and now mattered.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor Song.“ Missy called over the loud music as she swirled a glass of bourbon. Even at the end of the universe, she insisted on some modicum of class as she watched River Song emerging from the flurry of dancing bodies. She felt a tingle in her hand as regenerative energy started oozing out of her fingertips and she balled her fist, forcing the process to a halt, yet again. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to keep it at bay but she intended to have a good time before giving in to inevitable. She pushed her hand into her pocket, hoping River hadn’t noticed as she returned her attention to her.

River wiped her brow, her tank top was sticking to her with sweat but she didn’t care, she was enjoying herself. She recognised Missy immediately, leaning against the counter set up along the side of the massive underground warehouse. She couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, of all the people she could possibly encounter at the end of the universe, it was the Master. Lightheaded and thirsty, her ears ringing with the sheer volume of the music, she made her way over to her.

“Well, this is the biggest party in the known universe.“ River winked at her as she came to a halt next to her and reached behind the makeshift bar. It astounded her that some people had actually gone through the trouble of providing these comforts, wasting what precious time they had left on setting up a bar. The counter top was covered in dirty glasses and half empty bottles, she decided it was safer to go for what was behind the bar instead. She couldn’t really expect anyone to bar tend at this point.

“Without the husband, I see?“ Missy raised her eyebrows.

“We’re not joined at the hip. We are modern like that.“ River retorted retrieving a bottle of whisky.

“Allow me.“ Missy offered her one of the few clean-ish glasses she had been able to find. “We don’t have to behave like animals, Timeladies such as ourselves.“

“I could’t agree more.“ River took the glass offered to her and poured a drink for herself. “So what brings you here?“ She eyed her over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

“Where else would I go to kick back and soak up the atmosphere?“ Missy smirked as she looked around the makeshift nightclub, illuminated only by strobe lighting and neon.

She neglected to mention the fact that she was dying and wanted to enjoy one last night of chaos in this body. She had grown rather fond of this lady version. The annoying thing was that she didn’t even remember who or what had killed her. It was such a blur. The last thing she remembered was the Doctor wanting her to play a stupid game and for her to save some people, prove that she could be good. And now here she was without the Doctor and dying. He was bound to be responsible. Which was a real shame as she had actually enjoyed spending time with her childhood friend again… all this effort for nothing. All she remembered was lying in the middle of a forrest, her body starting to fizz with generation energy when she had almost believed it wouldn’t happen this time around. It brought her back from the brink of death and she had halted the process, keeping it at bay by sheer force of will. She wasn’t done being Miss just yet. One more adventure…

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked back at River. “I mean, just look around. The confusion, the chaos, the imminent death… isn't it exhilarating? You can smell the fear and the desperation on them…“ She grinned as she took a sip. “How about you?“

“I think I just saw my husband for the last time.“ River retorted, keeping her emotions out of her voice. She was determined not to overthink it too much. She had come here to lose herself in the here and now and stop her mind going in endless circles. She took a gulp of her drink, though it didn’t do much to quench her thirst from dancing.

“Is that so? What happened? Did you actually kill him at last fighting over the remote control in domestic bliss?“ Missy raised her eyebrows in amusement. She knew the last time the Doctor had been with his wife was enjoying domestic bliss on Darillium. That had been in the Doctor’s past when she had last been with him but apparently for River, that time had only just come to an end.

“Oh, he’s quite alive as far as I know. Sorry to disappoint.“ River chuckled. “But by some accounts that was the last night we spent together… who knows, we’ll see. Either way, I needed a distraction.“

“You know, I think you and I could have a great time together.“ Missy smirked leaning in closer. What was the harm really? It wasn’t like there would be any witnesses and there was a certain appeal in seducing her arch nemesis’s wife.

“Is that so.“ River took another sip of her drink.

“Absolutely.“ Missy twirled her fingers into River’s curls.

“Two psychopaths, that would not end well.“ River was drunk but not that drunk. Jumping into bed with the Master was a bad idea and she knew it. “Better not…“ She looked around the room and noticed a petite blonde making her way down the stairs into the club. She steadied herself against the wall, clearly intoxicated, but so was everyone else in this place. River instantly liked the look of her and she was probably a far safer bet than Missy. “You have yourself a good night.“ River downed the rest of her drink and placed the glass back on the counter before turning to leave.

“Oh, I see.“ Missy raised her eyebrows following River’s gaze. Most people in this place had turned into mindless junkies with poor body hygiene over the last few days, so the blonde stood out immediately. She was a pretty one too, innocent, soft features, she probably didn’t even know what she was doing here.

“Enjoy the end of the universe, I know I will.“ River shot Missy a grin over her shoulder as she headed straight for the new arrival. “Hello, lovely, looking for something in particular? Or someone?“ She stepped into her path, demanding her attention. The blonde jumped, clearly startled, she looked up at River with big eyes, struggling for a response.

“How original.“ Missy huffed at River and pushed past her, deciding there was no reason why she should just let River have her. “Are you lost, dear? Need someone to show you around?“

“Go away now.“ River gave Missy’s shoulder a shove.

“We could always, you know, share?“ Missy winked at River who rolled her eyes.

“I saw her first.“ River shot back, squabbling with Missy until the blonde finally found her voice.

“Of course, why the fuck not.“ The Doctor started giggling to herself looking in between the two women in front of her. Of course her brain would do this to her. Why not. The woman that betrayed her and the woman she had abandoned. Her brain was so cruel. She thought the drugs were meant to make her feel good, not give shape to her emotional trauma. “I haven’t got time for this…“ She walked past River and Missy who exchanged confused looks.

“Have we met?“ River asked catching up with her.

“That’s a great pick up line.“ Missy huffed sarcastically. “What better thing could you possibly have to do at the end of the universe?“ She stepped into the Doctor’s way, obviously not recognising her.

“I just want to have a good time, not to talk to myself.“ The Doctor snapped over the sound of the music. She looked around, wondering what to do next.

“Talk to yourself?“ River frowned confused. The girl was probably not thinking straight, her pupils were dilated and she was unsteady on her feet.

“That’s what you are, right? Manifestations of my subconscious? Hallucinations? Shitty street corner drugs…“ The Doctor huffed.

“I can assure you, dear, I’m very real.“ River gave it another go but was getting the impression that this might be a lost cause.

“You can’t be real, River, both of you are dead.“ The Doctor shot back in annoyance. Why was she even arguing with her?

“What…“ River felt her stomach lurch, her hearts skipped a beat. How did this woman know her name? A chance encounter at the end of time… how was that possible? And she knew Missy, too? There was only one person, apart from the Master, who would be capable of coming here and who would know her name…

“What is this? A guilt trip?“ The Doctor laughed bitterly. “I’m trying to run away from my bullshit, not confront it.“ She shook her head and made her way behind the bar searching for a bottle of something strong. Missy and River looked at each other and followed slowly. Neither of them wanted to say it but they both thought the same thing. But how was that possible?

“Doctor…“ River said softly stepping closer. It was becoming painfully obvious. It was the only plausible explanation and the random selection of clothes should have been a giveaway. If this was the Doctor, she had to be from their future… far, far into their future. River had never seen this regeneration of her husband - well, wife? And by the look on Missy’s face, neither had she. The thought turned River’s stomach. What had happened to her? For her to turn up here, drunk, high, utterly out of her mind, clearly thinking she was hallucinating. How far into their future was she for both of them to be dead to her?

“Don’t. Don’t even.“ The Doctor laughed and shook her head to herself. “Don’t even say my name like that.“ She confirmed their suspicion as she picked up the bottle of whiskey River had just poured from.

“Doctor, get ourself together.“ Missy said sternly, she wouldn’t admit to it but she was just as unsettled as River appeared to be. What had been fun and games a minute ago, suddenly turned very serious. What was she doing here? When had he - she - regenerated again? The last time she had seen the Doctor he had been perfectly fine then. This Doctor, however, seemed utterly broken.

#river x thirteen #river song #thirteenth doctor #Thirteen #space wives #yowzah #missy #Alex kingston #Jodie whittaker #michelle gomez #river x the doctor #cyberpunk #fanfiction #femslash #doctor who #dark #dark!13 #drug use #self destructive behaviour

[spookypalace]

something borrowed - chapter two

After one drink too many at her  30th-birthday celebration, Jo unexpectedly falls into bed with her  longtime crush and best friend, Alex – who happens to be engaged to her best friend, Izzie. Ramifications of the liaison threaten to destroy  the women’s lifelong friendship, while Jackson, Jo’s  confidant, harbors a potentially explosive secret of his own.

—

Or the one where everyone is a little messy but you still root for them anyway.

(ao3 link)

ok ok so i'm not entirely happy with this chapter, partly because i used a bit of backstory from the book but i kinda preffered how they did it in the movie so i included that also lol - so there is a bit of both :/ i've been sitting on the chapter for a bit but couldn't think of any way i'd want to change it up so i thought i'd just post and get it over with.

also this is a flashback and within this flashback, there is a flashback. it's the big chunk in italics, but if anyone thinks the way i have formatted this chapter is confusing then please let me know so i can change it and make it ... make more sense i guess.

anyway, thanks for reading and please let me what you think!!

May 2004

It’s to no one’s surprise that the only person left in the campus library at ten p.m. on the last Friday of their final year of law school, it’s Jo. It’s where she spent most of her evenings for the past couple of weeks, studying and stressing—attempting to cram in as much last-minute knowledge she could before their final exam on the following Wednesday.

Brunette hair tied back, save for the few small wisps fluttering over her eyes she’d blowing up at every so often. His oversized grey sweatshirt hangs loosely off her arms as she turns page after page of some old law journal, her right-hand scribbling down messy notes at her unusually fast pace.

The library was dull lit, save for the security guards lamp who sits grunting in the back corner, and the numerous lamps that lit the large mahogany table she currently sat at—books splayed across the surface, ones she hadn’t touched for hours but kept out just in case. Jo chooses not to think about how long it’ll take her to clear this up before she must leave.

A yawn escapes her lips, causing her to lift her left wrist and check the time, she’d already been here for six hours and unless the security guard was kicking her out—she wasn’t leaving. Jo had come way too far and worked way too hard to fall at the last hurdle, the last exam.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent the first half of her senior year with Izzie and Jackson and Alex so much, albeit separately, she wouldn’t feel the need to study as much as she had in the past few weeks. Jo had found herself falling behind, distracted by parties and flooding apartments and some crappy law drama Jackson had forced her to watch every Thursday night. But now, after weeks—she felt like she was getting back on track, just in time as well.

Jo’s eyes scan the page in front of her, she reads it over and over, but the words just don’t seem to settle in. With a deep groan, she throws the pen across the table and flops her head into her hands, rubbing circles against her temple.

“You look like you could do with a drink.” Alex’s familiar deep voice sneaks up behind her, causing Jo to jump in her seat—spine becoming rigid as a loud gasp escapes her lips. The sound causes the security guard to stand from his seat, glaring over at the pair. “Sorry,” Alex calls over to the guy, raising his hands in defence before letting out a laugh as he settles down on the chair next to a still heavy-breathing Jo.

“You scared me!” She exclaims through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice quiet but still let Alex know she wasn’t all that happy about his surprise arrival. He places a comforting hand on her back and rubs softly, up and down up and down. It surprises her just how much the action did relax her, the feeling of stress no longer coursing through her body. “What are you doing here?” Jo finally asks now her breathing has returned to normal, turning in her seat slightly to look up at Alex.

Alex is about to reply with something snarky about her rigorous studying schedule but then he notices; the grey sweatshirt that engulfs her small frame, the one with their college logo fraying over the chest. He’d recognise it anywhere, with the raggedy hemline against the wrists and the small patch of white paint he’d stained it with when he helped his mom paint the shed in her backyard. It was his sweatshirt. Jo was wearing his sweatshirt. And he couldn’t explain the warm fuzzy feeling he felt after just one look at her at her snuggled inside of it. She looked so cosy—perfect, even. He wondered if he’d ever see anyone look just as good as she looked in this moment.

But, then again, she was constantly surprising him.

Ever since she first sat down next to him in their freshman year; her eyes big, lips pursed and rambling about something or another to herself. Alex had thought she was crazy; the way she ranted under her breath as if there really was someone else up in her head conversing back to her. But then, once she spotted him staring, her ranting turned to babbling as she tried to explain herself. And in an instant, he no longer thought she was crazy, he thought she was cute and funny, OK, and maybe a little crazy—but that was part of her charm.

They had been friends ever since, really good friends.

Just friends.

“Is this mine?” He plasters on his crooked smirk, hiding the warm feeling he felt after noticing, as he uses his thumb and forefinger to pinch at the material and pull her a little closer.

She leans into him with a giggle, her dainty shoulder bumping against his broad, “stooop.” She drags, trying to fight the curl of her lips as he continues to tease her with pokes to her stomach. She’s attempting to get back into the reading she momentarily gave up on, picking up a pen which was closer to her than the one she angrily threw earlier. But he doesn’t relent, forcing her to swivel on her seat and look him dead in his amused brown eyes. “I forgot to bring clothes when I crashed at your place last night,” she informs with a shove to his arm, “I would have headed back to my apartment but my landlord called, the plumber was over there—finally fixing the damn pipes.”

Jo swears she sees Alex’s shoulders deflate at her words, and she can’t pinpoint exactly why he would be disappointed about finally getting her out of his hair. Despite the fact that Alex’s apartment was tiny, practically the size of the car she lived in back in high school, the place never felt cramped when it was just the two of them. There were times that they were probably a little too close for comfort, heat rising into the small area, but even if Alex minded her showing up with a single duffel bag and an apologetic smile—he never complained, not once.

Alex laughs lightly, “it’s cool, it looks better on you anyway.”

“Shut up.” Jo scoffs, deflecting the compliment. Something Alex noticed Jo did a lot, if not every single time someone attempts to say something nice to her. “So,” she pushes the conversation along, “you don’t have to worry about me showing up anymore.”

He shrugs, “I like the company.” Jo tilts her head to the side, eyes scanning his face—trying to find something, anything, that would give her a sign as to what that meant. What it meant coming from him. A sign. Something. “Oh!” He exclaims, shooting an apologetic glance over to the security guard, before his hands reach down the bag pack he discarded onto the floor upon his arrival, “I got you something.” He tells her with a smile and a glimmer in his eyes, hands fishing into the bag.

“For me?” Jo’s eyes widen in excitement as she grins widely. A giggle escapes her lips when he produces two bottle of beers and a bottle opener, popping the caps off when he sees the small excitement in her face. He loved that about, Jo. She appreciated the simple stuff—the stuff he appreciated, they enjoyed together. “You shouldn’t have,” Jo murmurs with a smile, hitting her bottle against Alex’s once he’s passed hers over, keeping the bottle below the table—out of the guards’ sight.

“I have a proposition for you.” He states, swigging the beer.

Jo’s eyebrows raise inquisitively, “mmhmm, what’s that?” Brown eyes widening as Alex leans in closer towards her, placing a bookmark on the open page of her book before slamming the thing shut. “Alex—”

“Let’s get out of here.” It’s not really a question, more like a polite order. “You need a break.”

With a huff, Jo rakes her eyes over the mess of open books, sighing at the sight before her. Jo shakes her head, turning back to Alex, “you should be studying, too. We have five days until we take the biggest test of our lives, Alex. Our entire future is counting—”

“Stop.” Alex groans, grabbing the small woman by her shoulders and forcing her to look him in the eyes. His crooked smirk never fades from his lips, doesn’t even falter. “You need a break.” He repeats, his voice almost stern.

Knowing that this wasn’t an argument she was about to win, Jo sets down the beer and picks up the misplaced pens, chucking them into the blue pencil case she’s been carrying around since he met her. Alex’s smirk turns into a proud grin as he watches her pack up her things, closing book after book.

He stands up, helping her gather her things and piles up books so he can take them back to their rightful place for her. It takes him three trips but when she murmurs a quiet thank you, raising a soft hand to stroke down his arm, he really doesn’t mind.

Once they’re done, her bag is filled and his hands are clutching at two cold beers whilst they walk out of the library, Jo bidding a sweet farewell to the unimpressed security guard, a thought crosses his mind. “You know,” he begins, watching as Jo’s brows raise in his direction and her hand comes to snatch back the cool beer, “once this is finally over, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Jo grins, “a fancy bistro or a penthouse bar looking over New York’s skyline?” The glimmer in her eyes as they continue to walk in the direction of his apartment without even a spoken word regarding the matter, tells him she’s teasing.

“Private jet to Milan, actually.”

“How about …” Jo chuckles, bumping shoulders with Alex, tucking her small frame against his larger, “we eat fried chicken in the car like we were raised to do.”

“Sounds perfect.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer as they round the corner onto the street of his apartment.

The next time they see one another, out of the classroom, she’s worming her way through the crowded bar they had agreed to meet at. Jo’s eyes are scanning across the people as her once cool skin heats up, in search of him. Fingers fumble to unbutton her thick coat within the mass of people, not wanting to accidentally elbow someone in the back—she sees him.

Alex is there, with a wide grin on his face and a bottle of his usual beer in hand. He’s laughing along to something one of there classmates have said before his eyes land on her, and if possible, his smile widens and sparkling white teeth blind her. He pauses his conversation, moving towards her and grabbing her by the hand to pull her through the crowd at a faster pace. He was glad to finally see her.

“Congratulations!” Jo exclaims to Alex and the rest of their classmates once they reach their corner of the bar, all of them cheer and offer her their own congratulations at the sight of her. She smiles up at Alex, before her hands finally move back to the one button she was yet to undo, snapping the coat open she shrugs it off her shoulders and places it across her forearm.

Alex is turned towards the bar, requesting another beer for Jo as she does so but when he turns back—his mouth goes dry. He’d never seen Jo dressed like that. The figure hugging little black dress hugged her curves perfectly, lifting and contouring her cleavage. He thought, though he kept it to himself, she looked absolutely perfect. But before he could be subject to both Jo’s and their classmates lame jokes about his drooling, he shakes his head—ignoring the feelings that rushed over him at just the sight of her. Pleased for the moment of distraction as he exchanges his cash for a beer and hands it over to the petite brunette, full lips offering him a tight smile in thanks.

Yes, he’d always thought Jo was pretty. Beautiful, even. When she was dressed in a sweatshirt or just a cardigan, even a simple t-shirt—she always managed to look utterly perfect. At least, to him she did. He’d heard her wining about bad skin and greasy hair, but he’d never seen the faults that she could see.

As they’re standing there, celebrating the end of an era, Jo begins to reminisce on how they got here …

She thinks about how she had met Alex during their first year of law school at NYU. Unlike most law students, who come straight from college when they can think of nothing better to do with their stellar undergrad transcripts, Alex Karev was older, with real-life experience. He had worked as an analyst at Goldman Sachs, which blew away Jo’s nine-to-five summer internships and office jobs filing and answering phones. He was confident, relaxed, and so gorgeous that it was hard not to stare at him. Sure enough, they were barely into their first week of class when the buzz over Alex began, women speculating about his status, noting either that his left ring finger was unadorned or, alternatively, worrying that he was too well dressed and handsome to be straight. But Jo dismissed Alex straightaway, because she thought that he thought she was crazy, convincing herself that his outward perfection was boring. Which was a fortunate stance because she also knew that he was out of her league. (She hated that expression and the presumption that people choose friends based so heavily upon looks, but it is hard to deny the principle when you look around—partners generally share the same level of attractiveness, and when they do not, it is noteworthy.) Besides, she wasn’t borrowing thirty thousand dollars a year so that she could find a boyfriend.

As a matter of fact, she probably would have gone three years without talking to him, but they randomly ended up next to each other in a significantly small seating-chart class taught by the sardonic Professor Zisman. Although many professors at NYU used the Socratic method, only Zisman used it as a tool to humiliate and torture students. Alex and Jo bonded in their hatred of the mean-spirited professor. Jo feared Zisman to an irrational extreme, whereas Alex’s reaction had more to do with disgust. “What an asshole,” he would growl after class, often after Zisman had reduced a fellow classmate to tears. “I just want to wipe that smirk off the jerks face.” Gradually, their grumbling turned into longer talks over coffee in the student lounge or during walks around Washington Square Park. They began to study together in the hour before class, preparing for the inevitable—the day Zisman would call on them. Jo dreaded her turn, knowing that it would be a bloody massacre, but secretly couldn’t wait for Alex to be called on. Zisman preyed on the weak and flustered, and Alex was neither. Jo was sure that he wouldn’t go down without a fight. She remembers it well.  

Zisman stood behind his podium, examining his seating chart, a schematic with their faces cut from the first-year look book, practically salivating as he picked his prey. He peered over his small, round glasses (the kind that should be called spectacles) in the pair’s general direction, and said, “Mr. Karev.”

He pronounced Alex’s name wrong, making it sound more similar to “carve.” “It’s Ka-rev,’” Alex said, unflinching.  Jo inhaled sharply; nobody corrected Zisman. Alex was really going to get it now.

“Well, pardon me, Mr. Ka-rev,” Zisman said, with an insincere little bow. “Palsgraf versus Long Island Railroad Company.”

Alex sat calmly with his book closed while the rest of the class nervously flipped to the case, we had been assigned to read the night before.

The case involved a railroad accident. While rushing to board a train, a railroad employee knocked a package of dynamite out of a passenger’s hand, causing injury to another passenger, Mrs. Palsgraf. Justice Cardozo, writing for the majority, held that Mrs. Palsgraf was not a “foreseeable plaintiff” and, as such, could not recover from the railroad company. Perhaps the railroad employees should have foreseen harm to the package holder, the Court explained, but not harm to Mrs. Palsgraf. “Should the plaintiff have been allowed recovery?” Zisman asked Alex.

Alex said nothing. For a brief second Jo panicked that he had frozen, like others before him. Say no, she thought, sending him fierce brain waves. Go with the majority holding. But when she looked at his expression, and the way his arms were folded across his chest, Jo could tell that he was only taking his time, in marked contrast to the way most first-year students blurted out quick, nervous, untenable answers as if reaction time could compensate for understanding. “In my opinion?” Alex asked.

“I am addressing you, Mr. Karev. So, yes, I am asking for your opinion.” The teacher groaned, rolling his eyes. “I would have to say yes, the plaintiff should have been allowed recovery. I agree with Justice Andrew’s dissent.”

“Ohhhh, really?” Zisman’s voice was high and nasal. “Yes. Really.” Jo was surprised by his answer, as he had told her just before class that he didn’t realize crack cocaine had been around in 1928, but Justice Andrews surely must have been smoking it when he wrote his dissent. She was even more surprised by Alex’s brazen “really” tagged onto the end of his answer, as though to taunt Zisman. Zisman’s scrawny chest swelled visibly. “So you think that the guard should have foreseen that the innocuous package measuring fifteen inches in length, covered with a newspaper, contained explosives and would cause injury to the plaintiff?” “It was certainly a possibility.” “Should he have foreseen that the package could cause injury to anybody in the world?” Zisman asked, with mounting sarcasm. “I didn’t say ‘anybody in the world.’ I said, ‘the plaintiff.’ Mrs. Palsgraf, in my opinion, was in the danger zone.” Zisman approached our row with ramrod posture and tossed his Wall Street Journal onto Alex’s closed textbook. “Care to return my newspaper?” “I’d prefer not to,” Alex stated, unflinching. The shock in the room was palpable. The rest of the class would have simply played along and returned the paper, mere props in Zisman’s questioning. “You’d prefer not to?” Zisman cocked his head. “That’s correct. There could be dynamite wrapped inside it.” Half of the class gasped; the other half snickered. Clearly, Zisman had some tactic up his sleeve, some way of turning the facts around on Alex. But Alex wasn’t falling for it. Zisman was visibly frustrated. “Well, let’s suppose you did choose to return it to me, and it did contain a stick of dynamite and it did cause injury to your person. Then what, Mr. Thaler?”

“Then I would sue you, and likely I would win.”

“And would that recovery be consistent with Judge Cardozo’s rationale in the majority holding?”

“No. It would not.” “Oh, really? And why not?” “Because I’d sue you for an intentional tort, and Cardozo was talking about negligence, was he not?” Alex raised his voice to match Zisman’s. Jo thinks she stopped breathing as Zisman pressed his palms together and brought them neatly against his chest as though he were praying. “I ask the questions in this classroom. If that’s all right with you, Mr. Thaler?” Alex shrugged as if to say, have it your way, makes no difference to me.

“Well, let’s suppose that I accidentally dropped my paper onto your desk, and you returned it and were injured. Would Mr. Cardozo allow you full recovery?” “Sure.” And at the end of the hour, Zisman actually said, “Very good, Mr. Thaler.” It was a first.  

The pair had left class feeling jubilant. Alex had prevailed for all of them. The story spread throughout the first-year class, earning him more points with the girls, who had long since determined that he was totally available.

Jo had found herself telling Izzie the story as well. Izzie had moved to New York at about the same time Jo did, only under vastly different circumstances. Jo was there to become a lawyer; she came without a job, or a plan, or much money. Jo let her sleep on a futon in my dorm room until she found some roommates—three American Airlines flight attendants looking to squeeze a fourth body into their heavily partitioned studio. She borrowed money from her parents to make the rent while she looked for a job, finally settling on a bartending position at the Monkey Bar. For the first time in their friendship, Jo was happy with her life in comparison to hers. Well, she was still poorer, but at least she had a plan. Izzie’s prospects didn’t seem great with only a 2.9 GPA from Indiana University. “You’re so lucky,” Izzie would whine as Jo tried to study. Really, after years of living in her car, growing up parentless, really? Luck is buying a lottery ticket along with your Yoo-hoo and striking it rich. Nothing about Jo’s life is lucky—it’s all about hard work, it is all an uphill struggle. But of course, she never said that. Just told her that things would soon turn around for her. And sure enough, they did. About two weeks later a man waltzed into the Monkey Bar, ordered a whiskey sour, and began to chat Izzie up. By the time he finished his drink, he had promised her a job at one of Manhattan’s top PR firms. He told her to come in for an interview, but that he would (wink, wink) make sure that she got the job. Izzie took his business card, had Jo revise her résumé, went in for the interview, and got an offer on the spot. Her starting salary was seventy thousand dollars. Plus, an expense account. Practically what Jo would make if she did well enough in school to get a job with a New York firm. So while Jo sweated it out and racked up debt, Izzie began her glamorous PR career. She planned parties, promoted the season’s latest fashion trends, got plenty of free everything, and dated a string of beautiful men. Within seven months, she left the flight attendants in the dust and moved in with her co-worker Reed, a snobbish, well-connected girl from Greenwich. Izzie tried to include Jo in her fast-track life, although she seldom had time to go to her events or her parties or her blind-date setups with guys she swore were “total-hotties” but that Jo knew were simply Izzie’s castoffs. Which brings her back to Alex. Jo raved about him to Izzie and Reed, told them how unbelievable he was—smart, handsome, funny. In retrospect she’s not sure why she did it. In part because it was true. But perhaps she was a little jealous of their glamorous life and wanted to juice her own up a bit. Alex was the best thing in her arsenal. “So why don’t you like him?” Izzie would ask. “He’s not my type,” she’d say. “We’re just friends.” Which was the truth. Sure, there were moments when Jo felt a flicker of interest or a quickening of her pulse as she sat near Alex. Especially once they became friends and ended up spending almost all their time with one another. Jo was only glad that by the time Jo was spending nights at Alex’s place she had dropped it. Jo had tried to remain vigilant as not to fall for him, always reminding herself that guys like Alex only date girls like Izzie.

But then came the way Alex’s hand would softly find the small of her back as they were walking, and the way his hooded gaze would meet hers after a few drinks at the bar, and then his muscular arms would wrap around her after a study breakthrough and all of the work she had put in to not falling for him … evaporated. She was completely and utterly hopeless.

Izzie was the first to notice the change in Jo’s feelings. As they were lying on the blonde’s couch and she had absentmindedly mentioned him to Jo, and the brunette sat up straighter and a blush painted her cheeks and she began to stutter out her words … Izzie screamed gleefully, teasing Jo to begin with but ultimately telling her best friend to go for it. But that had been a while ago now, and although Izzie mentioned Jo’s feelings for Alex in passing on occasion, it was mostly pushed to the back of their minds. Izzie was still very much aware, though. She proved that much when she teased Jo with a wink and a smirk at every mention of the older man’s name.

And despite Jo’s closeness with both Alex and Izzie—it wouldn’t be until tonight, now law school was over, that the pair would finally meet. About one hour had passed since Jo had shown up and she and Alex had found a free booth in the back of the bar to slip into, most of their classmates already moving on to the next bar whilst a few stayed behind but hung out on the stools nearer to the entrance.

“You know,” Alex quirks up an eyebrow at Jo, “you’re gonna’ have to finally relax now you have to stop worrying about schoolwork.” He remarks with a teasing smile.

Jo giggles, “now I just need to worry about finding a job.”

“Well, at least take a night off.” Alex rolls his eyes, letting out a laugh of his own. “I want us to have fun, tequila shots and vodka sodas on me. What do you say?”

Jo pretends to mull it over for a second, although she knows that Alex is very certain that she’ll say yes. “OK.” Jo states, leaning in closer to Alex, her breath dancing across his neck as she whispers, “but you need to make sure I end up back at my place tonight.”

Alex’s gaze finds hers and he nods, “I’m on Jo duty, got it.” She raises a hand between them offering him a handshake, and his eyes cut from her to her dainty hand, he clutches it before giving her a firm shake. He found himself quite enjoying the feel of her soft small fingers in his, and when she pulls it out of his grasp—he misses her touch. “I don’t mind keeping my eyes on you,” he flirts but it’s lost on Jo, whose completely convinced he only tried to make her blush and tease her, as she scoffs and playfully hits his arm as he slides out of the booth.

Jo is only sat alone for a moment of two before she hears the shrill screech of Izzie’s voice, “I’m hereee!” The blonde runs up to the booth, shimmying into the seat and flopping her purse down onto the table with an exclaimed huff before flipping her long blonde hair behind her shoulders. Her eyes are scanning the rest of the bar, barely paying attention to the friend she had come here specifically to celebrate with, before muttering,  “oh god, of course you’re the one sat alone in the dark corner—”

Jo cuts her off, sighing before she begins to explain she wasn’t alone, “actually—”

“I need to get drunk.” Izzie interrupts with a deep sigh before venturing off into a mini rant, “I’ve had such an awful day, running around after my boss and urgh—this client asked me to run and get him coffee, plus, I’m almost certain that the stress is the reason my hair is falling so flat on my head right now.” Izzie huffs in one single breath, fiddling with one strand of perfectly curled golden hair. “Oh crap,” her eyes widen, “how was your test thingy?”

Jo raises her eyebrows for a millisecond but chooses to ignore the comment—as if passing the bar was just another test. Like their high school math SAT which Izzie almost didn’t even bother to attend. Instead of complaining, she smiles and nods, “it went great, I’m confident—”

“Fuck!” Izzie’s voice cuts her off again.

At that moment Alex sauntered over to the booth with a tray full of drinks for him and Jo, which she now suspected she’ll be sharing with Izzie. As soon as he joins them, his eyes flick to the blonde and as if on instinct, Jo introduced him to Izzie, and she turned on the charm, giggling and playing with her hair and nodding emphatically whenever he said anything. Alex was pleasant to her but didn’t seem overly interested and, at one point, as she was dropping Goldman names—do you know this guy or that guy?—Alex actually appeared to be suppressing a yawn.  

Seemingly, this went unnoticed by Izzie—although she seemed mildly miffed with Jo when the brunette was responding to her instead of Alex. But she thought she was saving her friends from an awkward interaction.

“Do you want another drink?” Alex turns his attention to Jo, noticing her almost empty glass. She wonders if this is just an excuse to get away or if he wanted another himself, she couldn’t tell how far along he was through the dark coloured beer bottle.

“So, when you gonna’ grow a pair and ask Jo out on a real date?” “I am sick of hearing about study sessions and nights out and blah blah blah …”

“Iz—” Jo begins, stopping herself as her mouth begins to go dry with embarrassment. “I mean, he—you don’t have to … we don’t—we are just friends.” She stutters over her words, feeling a fresh deep red blush crawl up her chest and her neck and then her cheeks under both Alex and Izzie’s stares. Izzie’s eyebrow is quirked up, lips curled into a tight smirk, watching Jo’s flustered state. Whilst Alex looks more taken aback; his lips are parted, a small frown on his face and he almost looks as if he’s about to begin protesting before Izzie begins to giggle.

Both of their eyes snap in her direction as she continues laughing before, at a flip of a switch, the blondes face turns serious. There’s a slight glimmer in her eyes as she asks, “well, then when are you going to ask me on a date?”

Alex’s eyebrows almost shoot to his hair line, clearly surprised by Izzie’s forwardness. His eyes leave Jo’s and he’s uncomfortably chuckling at Izzie, his fingers fumbling with the paper that wrapped around his still cool beer.

Jo’s throat turns dry; her heart dropping and her once joyful demeanour has turned sour. It sounded selfish, but they were supposed to be out celebrating her. Her and Alex. But Izzie didn’t know Alex, she only came here for Jo. And Izzie knew, even if Jo tried to deny it, Izzie knew very well that Jo had feelings for Alex. She’d told her that much—every time Jo went into denial; Izzie would state again and again that she knows Jo better than herself and she knows Jo has a huge thing for Alex.

So, why was she sat here, on Jo’s night, basically asking Alex on a date?

“You can take me to this penthouse bar I’ve seen,” she tells him, confidently, lifting up her glass and seductively placing her straw between her lips with a coy smile, “overlooking the skyline, very classy.”

Jo lets out a breathy laugh, before excusing herself, feeling as if she won’t be able to hide her disdain any longer, “I need to use the bathroom.” She tells them both, shimmying out of the booth as Alex gets up to make way for her to leave. His brown eyes watch her retreating form, unable to tear themselves away.

As Jo takes a breather in the ladies’ room, she wonders if she could even be hurt with Izzie at all. Like she said, she had denied having feelings for Alex over and over. And it’s not like she stated a claim on him, he wasn’t hers. Yes, he was her closest friend in college and other than Jackson, he was easily her biggest confidant. They bonded over shared hatred for teachers and classes, and similar upbringings. She had always felt like they shared something, since that first-class years ago. He wasn’t hers—and it was selfish of her to decide in her own mind that he couldn’t be Izzie’s either.

It wasn’t her place. When she worms her way back to the booth, she’s almost stopped in her tracks as she hears the sound of Alex’s gruff voice next to Izzie’s loud and obnoxious laughter. But with a deep breath, Jo powers ahead and moves to stand directly in front of the booth. “I’m going to head home,” she tells them, offering her best fake smile, “I’m pretty tired—big day an’ all.”

“I’ll walk you home!” Alex offers, almost jumping from his seat to catch her wrist in his hands. Neither of them noticing Izzie’s burning gaze on the friendly interaction.

“No, no—it’s fine.” Jo places her free hand on top of Alex’s, gently telling him to let go. “I’ll catch a cab.” She lies. Knowing she’ll end up walking back to her place, needing the fresh air and the time to think.

He’s concerned as he presses, “are you sure?”

Offering Izzie a tight-lipped smile and Alex a shake of her head, brushing his concern off, “certain.” With that, the pair both nod—Izzie more eager than Alex to be left alone, the blonde shoots Jo a wink as a way of saying thank you but Jo chooses not to acknowledge it, she knows Izzie won’t remember come morning.  

As she steps out into the cool air, a wave of emotion sets on her and if there wasn’t so many people lingering on the street lined full of bars, she thinks fresh tears would fall down her face. But then she’d be the pathetic one who was crying over some boy who wasn’t even her boyfriend. Or was she crying over the betrayal of her friend. Was it even a betrayal?

“Jo!” The familiar sound of Alex’s voice shouts from behind her, stopping in her tracks and silently thanking herself for choosing not to cry, “are you ok?” He asks sincerely as she spins on her heel, turning to face him and plaster on that well-rehearsed fake grin.

In that moment, she thinks pretending that she has no idea what he was insinuating, “ … with?”

“Well,” he lifts a thumb to gesture back to the bar, “with this?”

She can’t believe her faux smile can grow any bigger, but it does, “yes—of course! Yeh, Izzie’s great,” Jo begins to nod profusely, “you never know where it might lead, right?”

“Erm,” Alex begins, eyes glistening against the streetlights before he lets out an un-convinced huff, “yeah.”

“Cool, so, good night.”

“Good night.”

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev

[august-anon]

Content -- Valentickle

I was gonna post this on valentines after I sent it to my valentickle recipient (which was @youraverageauthor3​ which we both thought was hilarious), but then I kept getting distracted by other things lol. Here it is now, though!

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship(s): Prinxiety

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Roman/Switch!Virgil

Word Count: 1605 words

Summary: It was meant to be some cuddling after a Valentines Day well-spent. Not that either of them were complaining with the playful turn things had taken.

[ao3 link]

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Virgil was content.

Valentines day had gone off without a hitch. He and Roman spent almost the entire day in watching (mostly romance) movies, having a lazy day, and eating sweets together because Roman knew that he loved to stay in and just have Them Time. Then, that night, Virgil took Roman out to some big, fancy restaurant because he knew Roman loved big gestures and being wooed.

But now the day was over, they were simply relaxing in each other’s arms on the bed, neither paying attention to whatever they had thrown on Netflix in the background.

Virgil snuggled in closer with a smile, burying his face into Roman’s neck and letting out a contented sigh. His smile widened into a grin when Roman shivered and shifted minutely. He let out another happy sigh through his nose just to feel him squirm again.

“Keep doing that and see where it gets you,” Roman muttered into his hair, the threat of it cut by the fact that he sounded half-asleep.

Virgil let out a little half-giggle, grinning again as even that got Roman to squirm. “Not my fault your neck is ridiculously sensitive.” Then, he blew a small stream of air against the skin.

Roman squirmed again with a small noise of protest and tried to pull away, but Virgil had wrapped himself around Roman too tightly. Roman pulled Virgil closer and tightened his own grip, scooting down the bed slightly so he could see Virgil’s face.

“You asked for this, love, don’t forget,” he said darkly, scowling at the cheeky grin that Virgil flashed him.

Then all of Virgil’s teasing bravado melted away as Roman started skittering his fingers up his back on either side of his spine. Virgil squealed and cursed himself for the fact that he decided not to wear a shirt to bed. Then, he cursed Roman for the fact that he was built like a furnace and made the bed too hot for him to sleep with a shirt on.

“Wait, no!” He giggled out, trying to squirm away from the maddeningly soft touch, only succeeding in arching his body further into Roman’s.

“You shouldn’t have woken me up!” Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead as he switched to nails and moved his hands.

Virgil squealed again as Roman’s fingers reached the backs of his sides and ribs, a sweet spot he always forgot about. His tiny titters turned into high-pitched, frantic giggles as his squirming got more pronounced.

“You’re so mean!” He cried, pushing at Roman’s chest with weak arms. It was all for show, anyways, he wouldn’t want to escape even if he could.

“Oh, I’m the mean one?” Roman teased. “I’m the mean one?! I’ll show you mean!”

Then he ducked his head to blow a raspberry on Virgil’s neck and Virgil shrieked before falling into cackling as the phantom vibrations refused to fade. 

Roman’s arms wrapped further around him and pulled him in closer so that his fingers could get within squeezing distance to Virgil’s sides. Virgil yelped at the new sensation, wishing he could squirm even a little to alleviate the sensation, but the cuddle was too tight for him to manage even that.

At this point, he was just thankful that the cuddling position meant that Roman couldn’t reach his stomach.

After a few more minutes of the playful torture, Roman finally let up. Virgil wheezed for breath between residual giggles, thunking his head against Roman’s collarbone as he tried to catch his breath.

“Come on, Giggles,” Roman said, pressing a grin into his hair, “it wasn’t that bad. I’ve gotten you worse.”

Virgil twisted his tired mouth into a smirk and launched up and out of Roman’s arms, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. It was a little awkward with Roman still lying on his side, but not unmanageable.

“I’ll show you worse,” he growled, and dug both hands into the side that faced up toward him.

Roman yelped and tried to roll over in either direction, but Virgil’s legs held him firmly in place. Virgil watched with glee as Roman’s eyes widened in realization of that fact.

“Wait, Virge!” He called out through his giggling. “Please, no!”

“I didn’t get to squirm,” Virgil huffed, switching to scratching at Roman’s ribcage. “Neither do you!”

Roman squealed as Virgil brought his nails into play. “No, I’m sorry!”

Virgil scoffed. “Quit pretending like you don’t love this, I know the truth. Now who’s ‘Giggles,’ hm?”

Roman shook his head, trying to protest, but cut himself off with a gasp when Virgil grabbed Roman’s tickle-weakened arm and pinned it above Roman’s head with one hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst. But nothing came.

He cautiously peeled his eyes back open to see Virgil wiggling his fingers ever-so-teasingly above him, slowly lowering his hand millimeter by millimeter. Roman gasped again and immediately started giggling.

“No, no, no, Virgil!” Roman cried out, desperately trying to wiggle out from under him.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “If you look me in the eyes and tell me truthfully that you don’t like this… I will stop.”

Roman bit his lip and whined, looking away as his face flushed. 

Virgl smirked victoriously as Roman refused to respond. He touched his tickly fingers down in Roman’s armpit and laughed in delight at the near-scream it produced. Roman tugged at his arm and twisted as much as Virgil’s hold would allow, but he couldn’t escape, allowing Virgil to relish in his cackles.

Eventually, Roman found enough strength to buck Virgil off of him, Virgil landing on the bed next to him and bouncing against the mattress. He curled up and giggled, trying to rub the phantom sensations out of his armpit.

Virgil cuddled back up to his side with a cheeky grin. “I love you~” He sang teasingly, unremorseful.

Roman scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, you torture all your loved ones?”

Virgil didn’t respond. He rolled over so that Roman could scoot up behind him and pull him into his arms. He sighed in contentment again as Roman spooned him, not quite falling asleep, but closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift into a state of unawareness.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he felt Roman lean forward to whisper in his ear. “You know, you’ve made a mistake.”

Virgil frowned. “Shh,” he mumbled, snuggling back further into Roman.

His eyes snapped open when Roman threw a leg over both of his, putting pressure on them to keep them pinned down.

“Are you going to apologize, darling?” He hummed.

Virgil tried to glare, but his face went slack with a gasp as Roman trapped both his arms above his head by raising them and barring his forearm against Virgil’s elbows. Virgil struggled, but Roman’s grip was too strong.

“Roman…” He said warningly.

The unspoken threat was diminished by the squeak he produced when Roman ever-so-gently rested his fingers against Virgil’s trembling tummy. He barely had to wiggle them before Virgil started giggling and relented.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry!”

The wiggling and tickling halted briefly. Roman chuckled darkly and the hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck prickled.

“Tell me truthfully that you don’t like this,” Roman mocked, “and I won’t do it. Simple as that.”

And, of course, much like Roman had probably felt, Virgil felt utterly helpless. Because he couldn’t say that truthfully, and Roman knew it. It was certainly unfair.

But he wouldn’t exactly mind another quick round.

Apparently deciding Virgil’s silence had spoken long enough, Roman dug his fingers into Virgil’s stomach. Virgil shrieked and tried to curl in on himself, only to be held in place by Roman’s chest against his back. So he cackled and tried to arch away, but that only ended with him moving further into Roman’s evil touch.

He had no choice but to lie there and take it. To squeal and cackle and shriek as Roman exploited every weak spot he had memorized in their time together. He screamed as Roman stuck a finger into his belly button before his laughter went completely silent.

Roman only continued for a few moments more before slowing the tickles to light, barely-there caresses against his stomach and side and releasing his hold on Virgil. Virgil curled up to giggle breathlessly and wipe the mirthful tears from his eyes. Roman’s fingers moved to gently tracing shapes on his back and though it still tickled, Virgil relaxed into it.

After he had composed himself (mostly, at least, aside from the barely-there giggles the barely-there back tickling was causing), Virgil turned back around to lay face-to-face with Roman.

“I love you,” Roman said sincerely, a soft smile gracing his features as he reached up to trace Virgil’s face. He was so keyed up that even that tickled a little, but he didn’t pull away.

Virgil couldn’t help the soppy grin that overtook his own features. “I love you, too.”

Roman pulled him back in and Virgil buried his face into Roman’s chest, tangling their legs together. Virgil closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Roman’s deodorant, relaxed at the TV still droning on in the background.

He glanced up for barely a moment, just long enough to prompt for and receive a kiss from Roman, before placing his head back where it was. 

“Goodnight, Love,” Roman whispered.

“Goodnight, Royal Pain,” Virgil muttered back.

He squealed as Roman gave a few playful warning pinch to his side. “Watch it, Giggles.”

Virgil giggled into his chest and snuggled in closer. It may have been their best Valentines Day to date.

Virgil was content.

#My writing #tickle fic #sanders sides tickling #lee!roman #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ler!virgil #ticklish!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety

[heller-obama]

There’s Nothing Wrong With Me (This is How I’m Supposed to Be)

Wowww, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic directly onto tumblr. I actually posted this on ao3 like 3 months ago but I guess I just forgot to post it here lol. Well here y’all go, here’s that one merthur fic I wrote like 3.5 months ago! Ao3 link

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“Right, you filthy vermin.” The slave trader (Jarl, perhaps?) said, looking down at them in more ways than one. “Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?” No one answered him immediately - and not that he gave them much time to.

“No volunteers?” the man asked again, as if that would prompt someone to step up. “Well, I shall have to choose one of you myself, then.” Arthur felt the man’s eyes drag across the small mass of men. “How about…” His stomach began to sink when his gaze landed in his direction. “You?” His finger stopped right next to Arthur, and his stomach plummeted. Like the rest of the prisoners, he looked for the man who was unfortunate enough to be picked - although he already knew who it was.

Merlin blinked at Jarl, as if he couldn’t believe he was chosen out of all the strong, warrior-type men he was surrounded by. “Me?”

Jarl put his hands on his hips. “Death or glory, boy? You should be honoured.”

“But, I—” He started before Arthur cut him off.

“I volunteer,” he yelled up at their captor, subconsciously placing himself in front of Merlin and in between his servant and the dangerous slave trader that was trying to put him into harm’s way - something that definitely did not escape the man’s notice.

“You volunteer?” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a little late for that.”

“Well, you wanted a volunteer, so here I am. Unless your idea of entertainment is your champion crushing nothing but weaklings like this?” He heard Merlin protest weakly behind him, and he stomped on his foot as discreetly as possible to shut him up. He hoped his face was his regular mask of arrogance and not the complete and utter panic he felt inside. He couldn’t let Merlin fight this “champion,” he just couldn’t—

Jarl squinted down at him. “You think you can offer a better contest?”

“I guarantee it.”

“Arthur, no,” Merlin said quietly behind him, as if Arthur was a dog - or that he'd actually listen.

The slave trade laughed again. “Very well. Your friend will not fight my champion today.” Arthur felt himself release the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding. “Instead, he will fight you.”

Rough hands unceremoniously threw Arthur and Merlin into the “arena,” which was really just a round area bordered by other men hungry to see the two prisoners fight. Arthur almost couldn’t hear himself think, the crowd was roaring and cheering so loud.

“Gentlemen,” Jarl said, rising from his throne and immediately quieting the roars from the men around them. “The rules are simple. One man lives, one man dies.” Loud, raucous cheering rose up from the crowd once more; ending as soon as it started. “If you cannot or will not off your opponent, I shall kill you both.” More cheers rang out across the room as Jarl tossed two (quite shoddily made, if Arthur did say so himself) swords in front of himself and Merlin.

Arthur looked at Merlin and saw the same fear and apprehension shown in his face as he felt himself, which was comforting, in some strange way. He then looked down at the swords and snatched one up for himself, delaying swinging at Merlin until he was sure that his servant could parry it.

Merlin did parry his strike, although it was rather slow and weak for his tastes, and he wasted as much time as he could before launching another strike, backhand this time, and then another one overhead as slow as he could without raising suspicion. His next strike caught Merlin’s blade so that he could pull Merlin towards himself.

“Take it easy, will you?” Merlin ground out as he was pulled against Arthur, trying to pull his blade out from under Arthur’s.

Arthur shot him a look that he hoped said, keep fighting, you arse. “It’s got to look real, hasn’t it?”

Merlin shot him a glare in return that he knew meant he understood, so he finally leveraged his sword so that Merlin was shoved away from him and into the vicious crowd. They shoved him back with an equal amount of aggressiveness, and Arthur attacked him with several strikes he knew Melin couldn’t keep blocking; his parries were already becoming progressively weaker.

Arthur let Merlin strike him this time, and when he did, he responded in another blow that pulled Merlin towards him.

“I refuse to kill you,” Arthur grumbled as Merlin’s elbow nearly caught him in the face.

“If you don’t, he’ll kill the both of us, clotpole,” Merlin shot back.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Merlin fixed him with another snarky glare and attempted to move away from him so that he could launch another strike, but somehow, the bumbling idiot managed to trip over the flagstones, lose his sword, and trip Arthur in the progress.

Arthur thanked the gods that the way it happened looked as if Merlin lost his balance and that Arthur used the chance to try to pin him on the ground.

He landed on top of Merlin, both of them grasping at each other’s faces half-heartedly, trying to get the upper hand. The crowd went wild, rushing forwards to get as close to the two fighters as possible.

“What next?” asked Merlin.

“There was no ‘next,’” He scoffed, but before Merlin could respond, Jarl pushed through to the edge of the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Finish him!” Bellowed Jarl.

Merlin shot him a panicked look and a lightbulb seemingly went off in his head as it was replaced with a resigned expression. “Please don’t hate me,” He muttered, and before Arthur could say anything like I could never hate you or something monumentally stupid, like I couldn’t hate you, I love you, Merlin muttered something else, powerful, foreign words that automatically sent a spike of fear into his heart. “Forbærne æltæwelice!” Sure enough, his eyes glowed gold for a few seconds, and suddenly, the flames on the torches doubled and tripled in size, lighting the ropes hanging from the ceiling on fire.

The men in the crowd scattered, causing chaos to erupt in the room and giving them what would be the perfect chance to escape, had Arthur been able to do anything but stare at his manservant in complete and utter shock.

“Get up, you daft twat!” Merlin nearly yelled, rolling out from under Arthur and dragging him to his feet.

He let himself be dragged along and through the crowds, his mind still processing what had happened in the arena. Merlin has magic? Was just one of the many thoughts that were pressing against his head, desperate to escape. The only thought that was more pressing than that was Merlin lied to me, has been lying to me, for the whole time I’ve known him. And then: But did I ever really know him?

He must’ve been more lost in thought than he realized because soon he was running into the forest, Melin dragging him along, with Gwaine at his side, holding the swords they both dropped after their “fight.” They kept on going until Merlin was wheezing so hard he could barely go on, and Gwaine forced them to take a break.

Without waiting for any of their party to catch their breath (including himself), his anger overwhelmed him and he stalked over to Merlin and got into his face, nearly shoving him up against a tree. “What the bloody hell was that, Merlin?” He was so close to Merlin that he could see every single little microexpression on his face; from the total fear that flashed in his eyes like the gold that appeared when he did magic to the way his throat moved as he gulped heavily.

“Arthur, I—” Merlin started, his voice quiet and shaky, but Gwaine interrupted him.

“Arthur, I think you need to calm down. Whatever Merlin did, I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.” Gwaine said behind him, his voice low and calming, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened horse.

Arthur whirled around to face him. “‘A big misunderstanding’? The fact that Merlin is a sorcerer is a little bit different from your bar brawls, Gwaine. Don’t try to involve yourself with things that don’t concern you.”

To his merit, Gwaine looked taken aback as well. “Merlin? A sorcerer?”

Before he could explode any further on the other man, Merlin interrupted them both. “I was born with it!” Yelled Merlin, the desperation and hurt coloring his words so much that Arthur pivoted back around and took a step back.

He said quietly, “What?”

“I never chose to practice magic,” Merlin tried again, his voice its usual level now. “I’ve been levitating things since I could walk. Before I even said my first words, I’d already nearly set my mother’s rocking chair on fire.”

“That’s not possible,” he muttered. All sorcerers chose to practice magic, and if not for evil purposes, they soon were corrupted by it anyways. If there was one thing his father taught him, that would be it. “Have you just been conning me all this time?” Making me fall madly in love with you? He refrained from adding. “What was your plan? To gain my trust until I became king and then manipulate me towards your own goals?”

“Are you kidding me?” His friend - no, the sorcerer - scoffed. “I’ve only ever used my magic to save your royal arse.”

“Bollocks. I would’ve known, I would’ve realized.”

Merlin let out a bitter laugh, one that was so different from the one that Arthur was used to hearing that he nearly couldn’t believe that Merlin could make that noise. “I’ve been saving your arse with magic since before I was your manservant.” He started counting names off on his hand. “Lady Helen, Sir Valiant, Sofia and Aulric, Nimueh - several times, mind you, Cornelius Sigan, Morgause - every single time she shows her face, the Great damned Dragon, just off the top of my head.”

Arthur’s jaw hung open. Not that it dropped open dramatically, like in the bard’s stories, but he opened it to ask a question or just to say anything, but nothing came out and it just opened wider and wider. He tried to say something several times, to no avail, before he finally managed to get a few words out. “You bloody idiot.”

“Excuse me?” Squawked Merlin indignantly.

“You blatantly used magic in Camelot, of all places, so close to the king, who executes anyone rumoured of consorting with a sorcerer?”

Merlin scratched the back of his head, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I—Yeah.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” He took a step forward again, bringing him nearly nose-to-nose with Merlin.

“To protect you! Yeah, at first, it was because it was my destiny; I could never fathom how anyone could ever stand you, but then it was because I couldn’t bear you getting hurt when I could’ve protected you!” By the end of his tirade, he was nearly shouting and his breath was coming quicker - well, quicker than it was before, with the deep breaths they were still taking from their speedy exit from the decrepit castle.

Arthur chose to ignore the first half of Merlin’s rant, and he got a rather warm feeling in his chest from the second half. “Did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way? That if I had to stand and watch you get burnt on the pyre because my father executes everyone suspected of using sorcery that I would never forgive myself for not doing everything I could to protect you and that you got caught using sorcery because of me?”

Arthur watched as a myriad of emotions played out on Merlin’s face; first shock, then disbelief, and finally a look that was filled with such intense fondness that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

Merlin’s voice was so quiet that he had to lean in a fraction more to hear him, enough so that their noses were touching, now, less than a hairbreadth of space between them. “You would?”

He let out a little huff of breath. “Yes. I thought I made that pretty damn clear—”

Apparently, Merlin had no intentions of letting him finish that sentence, as he moved his face forward a little bit more until their lips were touching and slotted together and suddenly Arthur was kissing back and he pushed his servant - no, Merlin wasn’t his servant right now, he was his best friend and (hopefully soon) his lover - against the tree. He’d be damned if he said this wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever had and nothing else mattered except the two of them - that is, until Gwaine let out a shrill wolf-whistle behind him.

He broke the kiss and let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Dear God, we forgot about Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a small laugh as well, and Gwaine’s wolf-whistle made way for cheering and laughing from the third man. “Oh, bugger off, Gwaine!” Merlin complained, somehow sounding both defeated and lighthearted at the same time. Gwaine - predictably - wasn’t deterred, and his laughter just grew louder.

“Just…go collect some firewood or something!” Arthur ordered him, not bothering to turn his face away from Merlin’s.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” Gwaine drawled, and though Arthur couldn’t see him, he was positive that the man added a mocking bow to punctuate his statement before stalking off into the woods. Once he was sure that Gwaine was definitely out of earshot, he leaned his forehead into Merlin’s and started laughing, with Merlin soon joining him.

“Where did we manage to find him again?” He muttered.

“He saved your sorry arse, as I remember it,” Merlin retorted playfully.

“My arse did not need saving!”

“Oh, it most definitely—”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Arthur almost didn’t let him finish that one word by resuming their kiss, relishing in the fact that he’d finally figured out a reliable way to shut his best friend up.

*^*^*^*

Well there y’all go! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

#jamie writes stuff #actual writing this time!! #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #gwaine #sir gwaine #merlin bbc #the coming of arthur #merlin 3x12 #fanfic #bbc merlin fanfiction #bbc merlin fic #writeblr #i think thats all lmao

[nightskyfangirl]

I Heard a Rumor Everything was Okay - Chapter Two (Klaus)

Characters: Allison Hargreeves (Main), Klaus Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves, Rest of the Hargreeves Siblings (Mentioned)

Summary: A collection of time Allison helped her siblings with her Rumors

Warnings: None in this chapter. Everything is canon-typical

This also on AO3 by the same name, but because Tumblr doesn’t like links, I’ll post it in the reblogs lol

DO NOT REPOST.

_______

Klaus’s head pounded as he walked through the mansion. The screams of the dead still echoed in his ears and he resisted the urge to cover his them. They weren’t there. Not anymore. Only in his head. Klaus could hear his mother’s humming from somewhere in the house and he chose to focus on it instead. He’d never been as close to her as Diego, but the small noise still helped calm him a bit. His fingers were freezing. He flexed them to try and get the blood flowing, but it didn’t help much. The Mausoleum held the type of cold that wouldn’t leave his bones for hours even after he left. Klaus took careful steps up the stairs. Normally he’d run up two stairs at a time, but not tonight. He wasn’t in the mood to run into Luther who’d tell him he shouldn’t be up or Ben who’d worry over him worse than their mother. Klaus ran a hand over his face, and it came away wet. Klaus frowned. “Klaus?” Klaus sighed. Couldn’t the universe just grant him one wish, or did it really hate him this much? He forced a smile onto his face and threw his arms out. “Allison!”

She was blurry when he looked at her and…oh. His eyes were watery. He quickly looked away. He heard footsteps. Great. She was going to get Luther. Klaus considered just running but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up and met Allison’s eyes. Oh. She wasn’t going to get Luther. She’d just been coming closer. “Are you alright?” She asked. Klaus laughed but it sounded off even to his ears. “Yeah, I’m fine!” Five had once told him that according to studies that was the most common lie. The words ‘I’m fine.’ But that was before Five ran out the door and never came back. “Klaus…” Allison started, then stopped. “Come with me.” Klaus looked up as she walked away. She glanced back at him after she reached the top of the stairs. She waved him after her. He hesitated for a second then followed her into her room. With a small gesture, she asked him to sit. He almost smiled. It was that pink chair. He liked it mostly because it was so bright it gave him a headache just looking at it. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees and focused his gaze on his hands. They were still pale from the cold. She held something out to him. He glanced at it. A small blanket. Klaus took it and wrapped it around himself. He vaguely registered her sitting down across from him. His ears were still ringing from the dead. He didn’t understand how they could be so loud. They screamed constantly. Not words, just screaming. Noise. His nails bit into his palms. “Klaus?” Allison said, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up and met her eyes for the second time that night. “What happened?” She asked. He hesitated. Why did she care? She wouldn’t get it anyway. He’d told his siblings about the dead before and the way they wouldn’t shut up. They hadn’t listened then, why would she listen now? He considered a lot of dumb jokes to reply with but he brushed them off. Klaus chose to just shake his head. She sighed. “Do you want me to go get Ben?” She said. Klaus gave her a look. He wasn’t a kid. He didn’t want anyone. He didn’t even need anyone. All he wanted was to get back to his room and find something, anything to turn off the wailing of the dead. Ben couldn’t do that. None of them could. “Look,” Allison said, “I know you don’t really like me, but Ben is cool, right?” Klaus frowned. He didn’t have anything against Allison. Yeah, she was selfish but that wasn’t really something he could throw at her. He wasn’t getting an award for his kindness anytime soon. And yeah, okay so he spent a lot of time with Ben. That was because he was the only one who wanted to hang around Klaus. “I don’t want Ben,” Klaus muttered. “Then talk to me. What happened?” Klaus sighed. He wasn’t getting out of this. And if he didn’t answer her soon, how long until she chose to just rumor him into answering? He rubbed his face again. “It was just training, Allison.” She raised an eyebrow. “At two in the morning? I haven’t seen you since dinner.” Of course, she didn’t believe him. No one ever believed him. “Yeah. I was training.” “Klaus. You’re freezing, you were crying when I found you and you look like hell. What happ—” “I was in the Mausoleum, okay?!” He gritted his teeth and looked back at the floor, burying his face in his hands. “I’m scared of the ghosts. Dad wants me to get over it, so he’s been locking me in the mausoleum.” Klaus didn’t know what he expected. Her to laugh at him fearing ghosts? Be angry at him for waking her up over something so small? Yeah, he hadn’t meant to wake her up, but that wouldn’t matter, would it? But he hadn’t expected her to freeze. To watch him with…why were her eyes watery? She blinked and the look was gone so fast he wondered if he imagined it. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “We should have known something like this… We should have tried to find you—” “Allison, I’m fine.” “No, you’re not!” She bit her lip. “I’ll take care of this.” She stood. “What? No, no, I’m fine, Allison. Please don’t do anything—” “It’s fine, Klaus. I’ll be right back." She paused and gave him a look. "Give me just a second, okay? Stay here.” Allison disappeared out of the room before Klaus could stop her. Allison didn’t know what she was going to do. She marched through the house with a simple goal in mind. Finding Reginald and making sure Klaus stayed safe. She found him in his office, as per usual. He was writing away in one of his diaries and occasionally sent a glance over to the monitors that were stacked on his desk. She absently recognized the sleeping figures of Luther, Diego, Ben, and Vanya on the small monotoned screens. Her bed and Klaus’s were empty. Allison took another step and the floor creaked. Reginald looked up. “Number Three? What are doing—” “I heard a rumor you never hurt Klaus again and you never forced him back to the mausoleum.” Reginald’s eyes turned silver. She didn’t bother with any of the theatrics she used on robbers and criminals. She just looked him in the eye and tried to keep her voice from shaking as she spoke. The slight tremor in her voice wasn’t from fear, though, it was anger. She started to walk out but stopped. She spoke over her shoulder, “I heard a rumor you forgot I was here.” She ran back upstairs. It would work. Her rumors always worked. Klaus was safe. Klaus jumped as she opened the door and quickly shut it behind her. He looked up at her and bit his lip. "You won't ever have to go back to the mausoleum, Klaus," Allison said. Klaus opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. After a moment he muttered a small, "thank you." She nodded. She sat down across from him and tilted her head. She could see the gears turning in his head. "What?" She asked. He hesitated. "Could you...could you Rumor me?" Allsion frowned. Her siblings hated it when she Rumored them. "Why? What do you want me to say?" "Could you...Allison will you make it so I don't hear them? Just for tonight?" Allison tried to keep from looking startled. No only did she want her to Rumor him but she wanted her to turn off his powers? She hesitated. "You sure?" "Yes." Allison nodded. She didn't like the idea of messing with his powers but she hated the look in his eyes more. Besides, she'd used her powers in the past to mess up Diego's aim when he threw stuff at her and she'd used it on Five to keep him from jumping away during an argument. If she could do it then, she couldn't say no now. "I heard a rumor you didn't hear the ghosts until you wake up tomorrow." Klaus shut his eyes before the silver even faded and seemed to relax. "Thank you." Allison didn't know how to reply, so she just smiled. “Want me to do your nails?”

#TUA #The Umbrella Academy #Fanfiction #Klaus Hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves