#i do all my best thinking under threat of rain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

driaswrld · 7 months

Text

ultraviolence — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 3k

summary : suguru coming home was supposed to make things better. but, it's as if everything is going wrong again.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : pls read this and this first ty!! LORE DUMP 🤭 mostly from sugu n toru's pov dealing with their new life and the twins along with jujutsu society. reader is trying to be the mediator as always and shoko is the best ofc. just the one where everyone has an existential crisis. (part one of two hopefully)

other : I PROMISE YOU'LL GET FLUFF SOON 😭 mentions of alcohol, blood, smoking obvi, idk why i named this ultraviolence lmao (shit hits the fan in the next tsr im js trying to be kind i promise!)

comment to be added to the tsr taglist!

current cassette : pretty when you cry - lana del rey

You come home to a house colder than you left it.

There’s a small comfort in the droplets of water that splatter against the wooden floor when you hang your jacket up, having remembered the way the girls beamed up at you only an hour ago as you walked them to school.

The twins were adamant to hold your hands, Mimiko blushing the whole time and Nanako poking fun at it, promising to hold your hand everyday until they became big girls.

Big girls that would only need you to hold their hand halfway — the same way Suguru only walks you and Satoru halfway to the school before heading back.

But the sliver of a chill that reverberates through your bones doesn’t resemble the comfort of a morning’s soft rain drizzle.

“You can’t just dismiss the issue like this, Satoru!”

“Where’s my own will, huh? Can’t I just do this?”

“This isn’t about you.”

You hear everything for a moment, muffled shouts and grumbles from the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear, haven't you?”

Then you hear nothing at all.

The investigation launched on the ninth day in December.

Suguru had all but been home for a week and then some, settling into the shoddy apartment you and Satoru called home between missions and meetings with Yaga and the higher ups.

It took half a day to move his old things out of the dormitory building, most of what really mattered was already sitting in the hall closet untouched, kept the way Suguru would’ve wanted it.

It was after he rifled through the closet in search of a fresh set of clothes did he realize, he had been mourned.

You and Satoru had mourned him like a mother would a child, like a womb stretched to make space, only to bleed.

His clothes smelled more like the both of you than it did him.

The fourth day, Suguru spent the night hunched over the balcony, smoking a silver blue parliament with Shoko while you and Satoru attended a hearing with the higher ups.

A necessary audience, they defined over the cryptic email.

Shoko described it as a means to an end, Satoru was still the strongest and you were his voice. The meeting was all but a farce to keep you two in check — but Suguru read it clearly for what it was.

A threat.

“He’ll be clan head,” Suguru murmured between plumes of smoke. “They won’t let him turn it down any longer, especially with me around.”

At this, Shoko chuckled, sucking in a sharp breath.

“You think he’ll do it this time?” She asked, somewhere between knowing and not knowing.

The higher ups want Satoru under their thumbs — not that you’d so much as let them come close — that much is evident. But it’s become a lose to win situation.

The guarantee that Suguru and the girls would remain untouched and hidden under the condition that he follows their rules, does it their way, doesn’t ask, doesn’t so much as breathe a word or commit an action using his own strength outside their command—

“Satoru as a lap dog?” Suguru laughs a little.

He just can’t picture it.

What he can picture though is the Six Eyes user backed into a corner, with no other choice but to concede. Then again, Satoru’s never been submissive to authority, no matter the setting.

A beat of silence passes over him and Shoko, and she knows what he’s thinking before he says it, yet she doesn’t caution him otherwise nor does she blame the nicotine.

“He could kill them.” Suguru says, “It wouldn’t take him long.”

The seventh day, Suguru stands in the middle of one of the many engawa corridors of Jujutsu High, dressed like a teenage dropout, teeth sinking into the inside of his cheeks until crimson stains his tongue.

You told him last night while cuddled into his side, Satoru’s head on his chest, “Walk away from it the right way, Suguru.”

And admittedly, he was going to laugh a little, kiss your cheek and maybe lull you back to sleep and ease your worries.

I don’t resent you,

for the path you chose.

As long as you swear,

yours and ours will converge.

“Geto, what is this?”

Suguru looks down at the sealed envelope he passed to Yaga seconds ago, the word resignation printed in bold atop the sealed flaps.

If he intends to kill himself, he should at least do it the way you asked him to.

He owes you that much.

Suguru never thought of himself to have been in a position where he could live past twenty ; he thought he was lucky Satoru even let him live to see the first snow, even if it was from the bittersweet solitude of the bed you three shared.

“I’ll graduate first,” Suguru says, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

For the sake of saving face he took a total of ten missions after his sentence was pardoned.

Five to prove he wasn't a liability to the Jujutsu world, two to hover by your side – he hadn't realized post traumatic stress could manifest in the need for more physical attachment – and three to see up close just how much Satoru had on his shoulders now.

To see just how different Satoru had become because of him.

“And then?” Yaga asks it like a cruel joke that only he and Suguru know.

People are talking. People have been talking.

Suguru Geto the defect. Suguru Geto the cancer of the strongest. Suguru Geto the curse. Suguru Geto—

“Maybe I’ll die of old age.”

I pray death finds me

under you two

in our bed.

If not,

kill me yourselves.

There’s meaning in that too.

That same afternoon, brandished with what should be newfound freedom – Suguru Geto. Not the sorcerer, not the curse, not the man – he drinks himself sick until he blacks out on the sofa.

Alcohol is cheap at Shinanoya, it’s been that way since he was sixteen and idle in the summer of ‘06, coaxed by Satoru into printing fake IDs, blacking out on the floor of your dorm room and waking up to throw up, just to blackout again.

Suguru took the train back and passed his stop two times.

Two times he thought of two different outcomes and two different destinations.

First, he’d go back to Jujutsu High and take the resignation back from Yaga before he signed it.

He’d call your cellphone, tell you how he's had a change of heart, whisper into the line : “We should celebrate. Me, you and Satoru.”

But you’d know it was a lie.

He still has twisted dreams of waking up in a gas station bathroom in a pool of blood that isn't his own.

Dreams that don't frighten him at all.

Second, it came to him the moment he considered actually getting off at his stop and going back to the apartment.

He’d let the train take him to Shibuya, stand in the middle of the crossing and scream.

People would look at him weird, others would walk by.

And the first monkey to reach out and offer him help, he’d—

“Suguru?”

He wakes with a startle, eyes bloodshot and half lidded.

“Name—” he opens his mouth, half empty vodka bottle tilted over and soaking the carpet. Satoru comes through the door a moment later, leading the twins to the kitchen to set their half eaten bentos down.

A shiver runs down his spine when he glances at the clock above the mantle. 12:53pm.

“School ended half day,” you say to him. Satoru doesn't so much as glance at Suguru when he steps back in to take the plastic bags of takeout from your hands. “They called but you didn't—”

Suguru's already sitting up, fishing through his pockets for his phone and clicking at the buttons.

Two missed calls from Mimiko and Nanako’s school.

Two missed calls from their homeroom teacher, Ms. Aiko.

Four missed calls from you.

One voicemail from Satoru.

“I'm so— shit,” Suguru sets the bottle of alcohol upright, pressing a palm to the carpet to find it damp.

His skin is hot, he feels like a mess, no doubt he looks like a mess with the way you're already kneeling beside him to screw the bottle shut. “I’m so sorry, I didn't— everything with the letter and then the train got delayed—”

“Suguru.” Satoru speaks for the first time, looks at him for the first time – behind bandaged eyes. “Sober up by tomorrow, yeah?”

Your head flits around to give Satoru a stare, as if to ask if that's all he has to say right now. But Suguru’s fingers enclose around your wrist, it’s okay, I was the one at fault.

“Satoru—”

“Just do this one thing right, please.”

The twins’ school dismissed half day due to heavy snow this early in the month. Suguru, listed as the girls’ primary guardian, gets the calls first.

He doesn't pick up.

Your work line rings next, and it goes to voicemail.

In between exorcising a special grade in Shinjuku, you don't hear it ring.

As the devil would have it made and done, Satoru’s line rings while he's at the school. Loud.

“Gojo-san!” The lady from the admin office knocks on the door twice, and is met with silence. The phone rings again, but this time it's the main line. The office extension.

The one he’s been using since he put in his teaching application.

The phone clatters against the desk in robust vibrations, Limitless almost bending the coily cord to nothingness.

The meeting room of four higher ups and two members of the Gojo clan watch him intently, scrutinizing him, waiting.

Beyond his better judgment, Satoru tells himself it's just you, calling to ask if you should bring back kikufuku or just the udon.

Or it's Suguru, who’s confused and can't find one of his things in the apartment and needs some guidance.

Satoru's not a pious person. But he wishes he’d have prayed the moment the call went to the answer machine.

“Good day, Mr. Gojo! I’m calling regarding the girls. School’s been dismissed half day today on account of the weather but Mr. Geto nor Ms. Name are picking up.”

“I’m hoping this reaches you soon so the girls can have a ride home. Thankyou! Stay warm!”

The eighth day, you wake to the smell of jasmine and hot oil. Four messages from Yaga, one email attached, forwarded to Satoru : Adoption fraud.

“—he hates me.” Suguru mumbles, shirtless and damn near cowering from your gaze, flipping the omelet in the frying pan, two steps away to avoid the oil splatter.

“Don't say that so casually,” you shake your head, shutting the fridge door, setting a carton of milk on the counter. “It's not like you believe that.”

Suguru flips the omelet with one hand on the pan handle, the other flicking the carton open and turning it to his head in a quick gulp.

He doesn't confirm it.

“Suguru—” you smack his arm and take the milk, turning away to rummage through the pantry for the pancake mix.

“I know.”

No, Suguru.

You don't know.

"I try to be patient," Suguru says quietly, shaking his head. "I know we're not sixteen and that this and then are two different things—” He turns the flame down, refusing to look over at you.

“Nobody's asking you to be perfect,” you cut him off, pancake mix forgotten on the counter. “You made a mistake, it happens—”

The higher ups are already breathing down Satoru’s neck about the twins now that they've been found out. It's an uphill battle in the Jujutsu world, your phone won't stop ringing.

Whether it's Yaga proposing damage control to have you and Satoru set apart on missions or another higher up waiting for you to slip up and beg for help, beg to be in their debt.

“I owe you better,” Suguru whispers, more to himself than to you.

He’s never been the type to ask for help or beg for forgiveness or cower at someone's heels. But you saved him — by putting your life on the line and in turn making Satoru cover it up — and he hates himself for it.

I wish

you would've

just let me stay dead.

“Because that's what I deserve? Better?”

Suguru gets the call from Shoko the next day.

December 9, 2007.

A formal investigation is announced into the involvement of [name] [name] in the case of Suguru Geto’s defection and pardon — alleged charge : fabrication of evidence.

Satoru makes his mind up the same day, sends the twins to stay at the dorms with Shoko for the weekend and brings you and Suguru with him to the Gojo estate.

“I can feel your eyes,” you whisper, seated cross legged on the tatami floor, nursing a cup of tea in your cupped palm.

You've never liked the Gojo estate. Not in winter at least, not when it's like this.

Satoru has his back turned to you, fingering the loose cloth of white bandages covering his eyes, almost hesitant. He recalls his mother's words to him from a few hours ago.

You look tired, Satoru. You're never tired.

There’s an unspoken thing residing here between both your energies and it becomes unbearably evident.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs, slipping the baby blue haori off his shoulders, draping it over the edge of the bed. “Just the cold getting to me 's all.”

Loose and darkened strands of hair lay on the silk sheets where Suguru sat moments ago. Satoru holds his breath.

My lover’s hair is splitting at the ends, tearing apart at the seams just like me.

I pray you don’t notice.

“Is he okay?”

You set the ceramic cup down on the table, turning your head to glance over at Satoru, who despite himself, wears his emotions like a cardigan knit tight between his brows.

“Why won’t you just ask him, ‘toru?”

He thinks he hates you. He hates not being more like you.

With the way you say these things so easily.

Maybe it’s the deep rooted thrum of Suguru’s cursed energy in his veins, or the bitter taste on his tongue when he wakes in the middle of the night just to see if he’s still here—

Maybe it’s that voice in the back of his head, the instinct pounding on the walls of his heart, telling him this is only for a while, it won’t last.

“You can’t lie to me.” Satoru reasons, bending his knees and folding his body next to yours, wrapping and unwrapping the length of cloth around his fingers over and over again. “But he can.”

Or maybe it’s the way he knows even if Suguru lied to him again, said it was okay, said that he’d stay, said that he’d let you and Satoru be selfish for once and keep him here, keep him tethered to this existence he loathes so much—

“Satoru…”

—he’d believe him.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” He sighs, near breathless.

You lift your hands to cup either side of his face, hooking your thumbs under the pale cloth, unraveling and unraveling and unraveling.

How many more layers?

How many more walls?

How many—

“His energy is restless.” Satoru could find other words to describe it, the aura, the shape of Suguru’s soul, his scent, his being, his whole existence. Something only you could understand.

“It’s pouring into me, and I can’t— I pretend I don’t feel it, that I don’t know that he’s…”

Different.

Suguru is different now, he wants to say.

Suguru’s unhappy with me, unhappy with us.

I can’t give him what he needs.

I was too selfish to have asked him to stay. You were too selfish in saving him.

We were too selfish. Do you think he hates me for it? Do you think he wishes he were—

“He loves you.” You tug on the cloth, let it fall and pool in endless strands around his neck. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Satoru’s eyes are dim, bleaky sapphire and cerulean staring back at you.

Don’t look at them, look at me, look inside me, my eyes are lying, that’s not how I feel—

“He loves you too,” he says it like a confession, a secret. Love can’t be enough, can it?

Love never stopped Suguru from leaving the first two times.

Love never stopped Satoru from waking up so many nights with tears running down his neck, from where you cried for Suguru in your dreams.

Love never stopped Satoru from not being strong enough to bend the world and stretch it to fit Suguru inside.

Why should you love him whom hates the world so?

Satoru lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, body slumped over yours and breath shaky.

Loving Suguru came as easy as breathing if not easier.

He’d spend nights curled in his bed at the dorms, clicking through photos he’d taken of you three, back then, when it wasn’t anything yet but still everything to him.

“Yaga-sensei, please pair me with someone else!”

“Hah!? We not good enough for you anymore, name?”

“Satoru, name, don’t yell so early in the morning…”

And even from the first mission, when Suguru’s hair was shorter and you hadn’t quite figured out how to control your technique.

When Satoru had to save you from plummeting to your death after you sliced a curse open just for grabbing Suguru and yanking him by his hair.

Satoru thinks, maybe, he came into this world loving you two.

Because he loves me more than all the world.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers into your neck, full of conviction.

He’s never not the strongest, except maybe when he’s here, in these moments. “I’ll protect the both of you.”

Let me do this one thing,

just this once.

Let me be the one

who holds us together.

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

tsr taglist :

@wishmemel @draecys @pearlvalley @cookielovesbook-akie @astral-hydromancy @celestair @/midnightbluehorizons @plaggi @blue-blossomss

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader

295 notes · View notes

lil-darhk · 1 month

Text

"Do You Want to Dance too?"

[Bucky Barnes x reader]

Summary: After a very rare date with your boyfriend, it starts to rain and you two find yourselves stuck in a cafe with no way to get home without being soaked wet.

Warnings: fluff

(A/n: First attempt at a fanfic. I thought about this when I was trying to sleep and I really wanted to write it down.)

I curse under my breath as James and I quickly run to the small cafe at the end of the empty street. The rain started just a few moments ago so it wasn't bad now but I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

We finally making it through the door, only slightly wet.

" Nice end to the day," he mumbles, clearly not happy.

I sigh and take a seat at my usual table when Ella, a good friend of mine, pops up behind the counter.

"Well this is a surprise," the barista says, "Thought I was finally going to be able to go through the whole day without you showing up."

"Ha ha," I muse, "Get us some hot chocolate."

She rolls her eyes but goes to make the order nonetheless.

James takes a seat next to me, glaring out the window as if that would stop the rain. The rain didn't take kindly to that as it starts a downpour, confirming my earlier suspicion.

He grumbles and I take his hand in mine.

"Tonight was nice," I say gently.

"It could've been better."

I shake my head, " You can't control the weather, love."

But I could understand his frustration. We rarely got to spend much time together as it was.

We usually only see each other at night but by then are too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep.

James and I had started dating a few months but we had known each other for years before then. I used to be an Avenger but I quit after Steve left. First it had been out of grief from my best friends, then it changed to me not wanting that kind of life anymore.

James was still very much in it, he was a soldier first after all, and, as long as he didn't get himself killed, I was okay with that.

I unconsciously traced a small scar on his palm as Ella brings us the hot cocoas.

"Okay, here's the deal," she starts, "I have to close up in 45 minutes. You guys can stay to try to wait the rain out."

"Do you at least have an umbrella we can borrow?," I ask.

"Nope. I even gave mine to an old lady."

"And you can't let us stay?"

"Nada."

It was my turn to grumble, "Fine."

Ella shrugs, "I need to clean up," she says before making her leave.

James was still glaring out of the window when he suddenly turned his stare on me.

"This is why we should've taken the car," he concluded.

I was taken aback, "So it's my fault for suggesting that we walk for 20 minutes to the restaurant?"

"Guess so."

I scoff, "You are on very thin ice here, Barnes."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you threatening me?"

"Guess so," I mimic.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, amused.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

He scoffs at my threat but doesn't say anything else.

Smart man.

We sip our hot cocoas in silence.

Then, suddenly, I'm laughing. James looks at me with an amused grin.

"I can make you sleep on the couch," I say, still giggling.

I poke his chest and he starts laughing too.

"I know you can, dear. I know you can."

He grabbed my chin with his right hand, tilting my head so I looked him directly in the eye.

"What would I do without you?" He wonders out loud.

"It's too awful to think about," I joke.

He laughs again before pressing his lips against mine.

I sigh in the kiss. It's difficult to think I was once distrusting of the super soldier I had grown to love. Now I trusted him with everything I had and more.

It took a long time for me to see the ex-Winter Soldier's true nature. His gentle, shy yet annoyingly protective nature

Too long.

He broke off the kiss with a small smile.

"We should finish the hot cocoa before it gets cold," James suggests.

"Hot cocoa is more important than kissing your girlfriend?" I pout.

He shrugs, "It's good hot chocolate."

I don't deny his statement.

It's my turn to look out of the window. As rain banged on the roof and glass of the small cafe, it seems to play out a rather aggressive tune. I don't like when it rains. It brings back rather painful memories, but I've learned that countering the bad memories with good ones helps make peace with the pain caused in a moment.

That gives me an idea.

"Do you want to sprint for it now?" I ask randomly.

The super soldier nearly spits out his cocoa, "What?"

"It's probably only gonna get worst and we are going to have to eventually."

"Do you want to dance too?" he said sarcastically.

My eyes lit up at the idea, "Can we?"

James' eyes widened, "I meant it as a joke."

"But why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," I point out, "Besides it'll be fun."

He shook his head, "We are not dancing in the rain."

"But-"

"It's way too cold and the last time you got sick, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

I try to hide my wince by pouting, "Fine. No dancing."

He sighs, "But maybe we should go soon, It does look like it's going to get worst."

"So let's go then."

"Wait up!"

James' voice was nearly lost in the rain. I kept running, knowing full well he could catch up with me within a minute.

Or maybe he couldn't. I was pretty fast.

I laughed into the wind, my mouth filling with water as the painfully large raindrops hit my face.

I sprint in the direction I think is my house and, try to calm the leather jacket that James gave me by wrapping it around my torso.

While doing so, I accidentally stumble on my feet and go flying forward.

Strong arms wrap around me within a moment, one made out of a now freezing metal.

"I got you," Bucky assures, "I got you."

I hear him loud and clear now despite his voice barely being above a whisper. The drumming of rain seemed like an irrelevant background noise.

I turn to him, grinning like an idiot. His hair was stuck to his face. He shakes his head at me but was unable to hide his own smile.

No words needed to be exchanged in the moment as his hands rested on my waist and my arms looped around his neck.

I look at James with possibly all the love I held and softly press my lips against his. It was easy to forget everything with him, even easier to forget the bad things.

He put his arm on my neck and pulls away. " You're going to get sick."

"I've accepted it," I confess quickly, chasing his lips.

He shakes his head again but lets me kiss him regardless.

~~~

I got sick for a week afterward but it was well worth it. Especially when I had James looking after me.

#bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #first fanfic #Marvel #Marvel fanfic #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu #the avengers #<3

75 notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 1 year

Text

The Nurse (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part 1, Part 2

Taglist: @strnqer, @1985bitch, @curlycarley, @imaginemyfavoritefics,

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital mention, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged! And this time is loosely based on S3, E5, where Daryl and Maggie go to get baby supplies for Judith. I will not be following the story to a T though, and will kinda carve out my own path, it's been ages since I've seen it so, any weird story omits or things I don't mention are just not happening here lol. And I know this is kinda fast, I'm just writing as I feel like it, so don't expect super quick updates all the time, but here's a treat. Thanks for reading!]]

You stopped, hand resting on a tree, just for a moment. Taking some deep breaths, you scanned the area, looking for anything familiar or anything that you could, at least, stay the night in. You were practically running on less than an hour of sleep, the pure adrenaline of surviving being the only thing forcing your eyes open.

Currently, your plan was to use some old lipstick you'd found in a purse - somewhere along the road - to mark trees. Leaving a trail, so you knew where you'd been and where you were going. It was simple, and would probably wash away in the rain, but it was enough for now.

With an exhale, you kept moving deeper into the forest - a hope for a cabin, deep in your heart. An unoccupied cabin.

It's not that you didn't want to help people. You truly did. And if you found anyone who needed it, you would - other straggling groups with limps and cuts and bruises. You'd give them advice on how to clean wounds properly, some regular items they could use. If an injury was more serious, you'd stay with them just for a while to watch the person, keep an eye on whatever you had to.

It never stuck, though. You found it easier to be alone, to be on the move. You could help more people that way.

Plus, there were... others. Driven to madness by the tragedy, brutally ready to kill at first sight for whatever fucked up reason they came up with. Some of them had used you for a while, providing you food and shelter, just to ship off wounded soldiers to you - ones they wounded themselves. It was eerily familiar to your previous job, and you almost fell into a rhythm - even thinking about it now, it snuck a knot of guilt in your stomach. One too many threats, and you found yourself back to traveling.

The scrubs you still wore stuck to your skin, hair matted and blood soaked - you imagined this wasn't one of your best days. But it honestly probably wasn't your worst either.

And then, you heard it. The snap of a twig.

"Fuck," you whispered barely even a breath, pulling your duffel over your side and readying your fire axe. (You'd grabbed it back at the hospital, all that time ago.)

There was something to be said about a single snap of a twig because the dead were noisy.

They were unaware - would continue down the path, crunching leaves and snapping more twigs, dragging their feet through the dirt. In different circumstances, they could sneak up on you. With the soft grass under their feet and the hum of the animals in the forest mixing in with their own tones, sometimes you had to rely on the quietest of noises.

But this forest? No.

Without thinking a second more, you spun behind the nearest tree, the red of the lipstick - grazing along your fingers.

"What, so-" a voice spoke, "-we just give up?"

"No," a gruff tone responded, hair a little overgrown, and what seemed to be a crossbow on his back, "-Just means we got some extra work to do."

The woman, who had short brunette hair and a pistol in her hands, said, "Yeah, and we're gonna do it. We... have to. She deserves a chance."

"Of course," the man responded, a little bit upset she even insinuated he wouldn't care.

You watched carefully, eyes following the pair as they roamed through the woods - before stopping in front of one of your trees, your marked trees.

"Fuck," you muttered, so soft, the wind could’ve whisked it away, exhaling carefully and turning around to face the other way.

"What's that?" the woman asked, a tone of mixed concern and curiousity.

There was a scrape, and you could only assume the man touched the lipstick mark, as he hummed, "Not blood."

"I think..." the woman muttered, the slight slur of her accent becoming stronger, "-I think it's lipstick."

The man huffed, his accent strong, "What for?"

There was more leave crunching, and the woman replied, "Maybe a path? I don't..."

"Hello?" the man spoke, and you heard the click of metal, like he'd moved his gun up, "Is anyone there?"

The woman seemed to keep moving, leaves crunching getting closer and closer to your ears, you knew they'd notice an end of the path.

You needed to do something quick.

"I'll give ya 'til a count of 3," the man spoke, the metal clicking once more, "-one."

Your breaths shook, as you debated your options, based on what you'd seen the gun the man had was long range. So, running was out of the question.

"Two," his accent lilted.

Your feet were almost rooted in fear, what if it happened again? What if all you were surrounded by was death? What if they used you and then killed you next? God, you couldn't die, not now. Not after everything you'd done.

"Three," he added, tone more aggressive, and the click of the metal once more sending fear down your spine.

You couldn't wait any longer, squeezing your eyes shut, you spun around, "Wait!"

Expecting the blossoming pain, you flinched. Yet, after a moment, nothing happened.

You cracked open your eyes, and saw two guns trained at you, the woman and man now in clear sight. Noticing now, the bags full placed at their feet, you wondered if they thought you were here for their supplies.

Without hesitation, the man straightened his gun and asked, "Are ya bit?"

"No," you answered quickly, flourishing your arms forward as if to show the lack of teeth marks, "-no, I'm clean, you can check."

"What's your name?" the woman spoke, tone solid and unmoving.

"Y-Y/N." you stuttered out, looking down the barrel of two guns wasn't exactly calming.

The man, a bit distant, replied, "What are you doing out here?"

"I..." you exhaled, trying to calm your shaking hands which were still caked in blood (as the rest of you were), "-I'm just looking for shelter for the night. Look, I don't mean you two any harm, just leave me be and I'll-"

The woman faltered, her green eyes flickering with emotion -just for a second, "You need shelter?"

"Uh, yes," you spoke, a bit bewildered that they were listening but too tired to question it, "-I haven't slept in 3 days, I just need some rest and I'll be-"

"Maggie," the man spoke stern and low, and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear it.

The sun was setting now, and if they had some shelter, this was your last chance for the night and you were just so tired. What else could you do?

Maybe you could bring something to the table.

Interrupting their hushed conversations, you began, "I... I heard you say a 'she' earlier, is there something wrong with her?"

The two stopped talking, the man's icy glare set on you, "Why you askin'?"

"I-If she's sick, I can help," you beckoned, "-I come from a hospital, I have all kinds of medical supplies. I-I can show you if you want. And-"

The man interrupted again, as the woman, Maggie you now knew, carefully watched you, "You a doctor of some kind?"

You paused, waiting for a moment before responding, "Y-yes. I'm a nurse, er well, I used to be. I... I worked at Harrison Memorial Hospital when it all went down."

The woman started this time, "And you're willing to help us?"

"Yes," you asserted, "-as long as I have a place to stay for the night. That's... that's all I ask."

"But you'll stay as long as we need ya?"

You furiously nodded, "Of course. I won't... I won't leave someone I know I can help behind."

The two turned to each other, before slowly pointing their guns to the ground. You exhaled a big breath of relief as your heartbeat slowed, muttering out, "Thank god."

The woman, held out her hand, "Maggie."

You hesitated for a moment, at the current state of your hands, before accepting it with a quick shake.

"Daryl," the man added, hand extended as well. You shook his, and began to follow in their footsteps -leading about west of where you were headed just earlier.

"Are you with a group?" Maggie asked, strolling along the woodlands.

"No," you replied, "-I... I come and go. Sometime people need a doctor so I help, but-"

The two looked at you, still watching you to say something wrong. They were still heavily armed afterall. The thought made your hands shake.

"I ended up in some shady places," you continued, "-because I stayed. So, I don't really stay anymore."

Daryl hummed in response, and Maggie simply looked at you with eyes of hesitant trust. Like she wanted desperately to trust you, but it seemed hard. You didn't blame her. Not really.

The last time you trusted someone, it hadn't gone well then either. This world is not one of trust, you knew that.

"We have a group," Maggie continued, walking in step with you as Daryl scouted ahead, "-it's small but we don't trust too well."

"Right," you murmured, expecting as much.

Daryl hummed, "We have a leader too. You'll have to meet him. You gonna be alright with that?"

Before you could even respond, Maggie interjected -an unsettled look in her eyes, "Daryl, is he even... in the space to do this?"

"Don't have to be," he responded, a little coldly, but you figured that was just kind of his tone at this point, "-he's gotta. I'll talk to 'em."

You furrowed your eyebrows, a question on your tongue, but found the following silence was not one to be interrupted. Without thought, you simply adjusted your bag and continued along. Their path was set as if this happened often, and the knowledge that you were going to a very settled camp irked you just a little.

A dynamic that felt substantial in this post-apocalyptical world usually wasn't the kindest. Oftentimes, it was 'kill or be killed'.

You knew that well, staring down at your hands (which had definitely dried by now) -you wished you had a way to wash them off. But the water was too precious to risk anyone's supplies, frankly. It reminded you of before, when veins would rupture, when hearts wouldn't beat, and everything felt like it was on the line.

An exhale, and you scrubbed your hands on your pants.

It felt immoral, as you held a fire axe in your hands. Weren't you supposed to save people? Wasn't that in the oath?

Shaking your head, you glanced ahead at the pair wondering how exactly this group operated -where they had a protocol for finding people. That wasn't... You hadn't seen much of it.

"This group," you questioned, "-how long have you guys been together?"

"Long enough," Daryl answered, curtly, "-prove yourself and you might just have a spot with us." Maggie hummed in agreement, pulling her pistol close to her chest, as a large barbed wire fence came into your view. And... were those... watchtowers?

"Is this...?" You trailed off, eyes taking in the surrounding concrete and the few stragglers either slowly trudging to the group you found yourself in, or mindlessly clawing at the tall fences as if it would do anything.

"Our base," Maggie finished, pulling her pistol to attention and shooting one of the dead just ahead of you -right in front of what you assumed was the opening gate.

"And it's a..."

"Prison, yeah," Daryl finished, pulling out his bow and killing the other one without a flinch.

"Right," you responded, a bit astonished, "-have you guys cleared the place?"

"Almost," Maggie answered, as the three of you stood directly in front of the gate. There was a watchtower to your left, and you could see the familiar glint of a scope shining down from the top.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted, you watched as the dead stirred toward the noise, "-Let us in!"

There was a moment of hesitation, a breath of air catching in your lungs as the corpses made their way to you -slowly but surely. You knew a few weren't a threat, not with a group the size you currently were in, but you still felt this buzz of fear under your skin. Normally, you would be gone by now, vanished into the dust -not wanting to waste durability on a fight that would only bring more opponents.

Without warning, the door swung open and you assumed they had silenced the mechanism because no sound other than the screech of metal moving across the concrete filled your ears.

Which was not pleasant. At all.

The crowd there wasn't particularly large, but still seemed odd. Maybe you had been alone for too long.

A man quickly approached the group with a warm smile, rushing up to Maggie and scooping her into a hug. This figure hardly even noticed you or Daryl, now that you thought about it, but you doubted you would have either.

Daryl spoke, with a taste of disgust (you couldn't tell if it was playful or not) "That's Glenn, Maggie's boyfriend, you'll get used to it."

You nodded, pointing to a few stragglers around what looked like crops, "Okay, and... who are they?"

Without answering you, Daryl called out, "Rick out here?"

The older man who was tending to the crops looked up, eyeing you for a second, before answering, "I think he's inside, clearing out block F."

Maggie responded, "Daddy, can you see if you can get him out here?"

You blinked, absorbing the new information, Maggie's dad, right. The old man sighed, standing and brushing off his hands on his knees.

"I'll try."

Daryl nodded, not leaving your side, and it would've been comforting had you not known it was because you weren't fully trusted yet. Maggie guided you to a table, assumedly brought out from the cafeteria, and sat you down with a calm gesture to a chair. Glenn followed close behind, and Daryl merely observed.

You doubted he'd even blink while you waited for the mysterious Rick. He seemed the type to take his duty seriously.

"I'm Glenn," he held out his hand across the table, sitting just beside Maggie with curious but cautious eyes. It seemed he trusted Maggie's hesitant judgment of you.

"Y/N," you replied, accepting his hand, "-this is a lot, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Glenn continued, looking around the courtyard, "-finding the prison has been life-changing for us."

"I imagine," you laughed, a little in disbelief at the mere size, and looking over the two's shoulders to see the dead staring in through the fence. There weren't that many at all, but it still trickled in some of your solo senses.

Which were mostly bashing their head in before they get too close.

Maggie caught your eye, inquisitive almost like you were in an interview, "How familiar are you with the walkers?"

"You mean the dead?" you clarified, fingers trailing along the blood in the creases of your palms, "More familiar than I ever wanted to be, that's for sure."

Glenn opened his mouth to say something, but something bumped into your ankle and you were immediately on your feet. Prepared for the worst.

Instead of what you expected, there was a ball... An old deflated basketball probably from the court somewhere around here, you stared at it a bit incredulously. Like you'd almost forgotten it was a thing. You picked it up, brushing your finger along the bumpy texture.

"Sorry," a voice spoke. Squeaky and... familiar.

Your eyes snapped up and were met with those eyes 'You have to save him, please.' Breath caught in your lungs, your mouth moved but nothing came out. He was a little older now, with hair a touch longer and a sheriff's hat on the top of his head. But that was-

Daryl grunted, "Play somewhere else-"

"Carl?" you interrupted, tilting your head and dropping the ball to the floor; what were the chances?

Maggie stuttered out, a tone of protectiveness in her voice you'd have yet to experience, "You know him? Carl, do you know them?"

He paused, tilting his head in the same way you had just seconds before like he was trying to get a good look at you, "I..."

He looked into your eyes, eyeing your scrubs for a second -probably the same he'd seen you in so long ago. And the blue eyes that were so achingly familiar seemed to light up in recognition, he questioned, "Nurse Y/N?"

It was like a pin could drop, as the boy's gaze settled on you curiously, and every adult in the vicinity watched you like you were the most dangerous criminal in the world. A tension settling within the air that gave you uncomfortable goosebumps, and desperately made you want out of the spotlight.

Slowly, a grin slid across his features, his tiny finger pointing at you, elated, "You saved my Dad!" And before you could even react, the little boy had scurried up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle - almost knocking off his hat at the force.

You blinked, a little stunned at the current predicament, but shook yourself awake. Completing the hug, you exhaled a sort of relief you hadn't known you needed. Seeing this little boy surviving such a terrible world gave you a spark of something. Like you'd been waiting to hear this.

"I promised I would, didn't I?" you hummed with a very soft smile.

Just as he let go, you crouched down and fixed his hat on his head, suddenly much more comfortable in a known presence, "Cool hat, kiddo."

He grinned even wider, but before he could even say another word, another voice echoed through the courtyard. Tone hardened and deep, this one could not be missed.

"Carl?" a breathy southern drawl -that you knew- interrupted, and your stomach flipped.

The tone was accusatory, dangerous even, so you stood quickly. A distance now established, you looked up into the figure. That couldn't be-

The blue eyes had burned into your head, so clear, so decisive.

"Rick Grimes?"

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

622 notes · View notes

itsscromp · 4 months

Text

Home, a place where I can go

To celebrate the reboot of my blog. I have decided to give you all the fluffiest of fluff by the best dad in gaming history. This spin-off idea (which I will call what if's) is courtesy of me and @callofdudes y'all are gonna love it !! What if Simon ran away from home and Price ended up adopting him and years later a young y/n too ?? Warnings: Mentions of abuse and potential inaccuracies (Please let me know if there are any) Word count:4.6K

Simon Riley 'Age 10' has had a hard life, He hated coming home to the endless cycle of abuse from his father, and after the latest incident, he's had enough. Forming a plan two weeks ago to leave, he began to act on it, when he came back from school, he rushed upstairs and grabbed his backpack with his clothes and such. But when he returned downstairs, look who was there to greet him...

"And where the fuck do you think your going mate !!??" Simon could smell the alcohol in his breath. "Leaving..." He said quietly.

"You wouldn't even survive 5 hours on the streets..." He then slowly walked over, If Simon didn't leave soon, he knew what would happen next, So without hesitation he bolted for the door, dodging his dad's arms and heading outside, running as fast as he could. "I'll find you soon Simon!!!!" His dad yelled. But Simon didn't care, he was now free... he was free.

He ran until he couldn't no more, crashing under a nearby bridge, it was cold but it was shaded, away from the rain. He sighed out in relief at the fact he was out and away... from him. He pulled his blanket out from his backpack and wrapped it around him to keep himself safe and warm.

The following afternoon, Simon stayed right under the bridge but he only had a jam sandwich and a couple of snacks on him, he knew that alone wasn't going to last. He watched all the cars drive by from above, making a game for himself to count the cars with the same colours. But then... He noticed one car stopping nearby. His instincts kicking back in... The car looked like his dad's car, So he quickly packed his blanket in his backpack as fast as he could before he could have the chance.

"Woah woah woah... It's ok..." But the person that got out of the car wasn't his dad... it was a young man... In a bright polo shirt. "It's ok... I'm not here to hurt you"

Simon opened his mouth, wanting to scream at him, tell him he was not going with him, not going back to him. But he remained quiet, almost utterly frozen in fear. The young man slowly moved forward with almost a kind smile.

"My name is A/n, I'm from the *adoption agency name* It's ok..." He made it to Simon, showing he wasn't a threat. But the instincts were still on fire inside Simon. No one could be trusted at this point. "Please... it's too cold and dangerous to be out here for someone your age." He offered his hand to Simon.

Simon hesitated greatly, He didn't want to go anywhere, the what-ifs clouded his mind as to think this could be a trap. But a part of his mind was screaming safety very softly, He was right. It was very cold, He didn't have any food and he'd be in danger the longer he stayed out. So slowly and hesitantly, he took A/n's hand. To which he smiled and slowly went back to the car with him, Nice and warm as Simon hopped in.

They soon arrived at the agency where A/n showed him a spare room. "Are you hungry ??" He asked Simon, to which the loud growling of his stomach gave the answer away. "I'll be right back ok ??" He smiled and went to find him some food.

Simon sat down on the bed, soft and comfortable. But his guard was still up, again what if this was a trap. He wasn't used to this amount of kindness before. A/n soon came back with a plate of fresh hot food and handed it to Simon. He ate the food as A/n sat down next to him. "Can you tell me your name ??" He asked. But Simon froze... If he told him, would he know who he is ?? He sat there for a little while trying to fight his own thoughts in his head. "It's ok... take your time" A/n gently reassured him. After a bit he finally and quietly said. "Simon"

3.5 months later

While there, Simon was still a little quiet, but he opened up a small bit, telling A/n he doesn't want to go back home, and how he's scared to go back home, telling him about some of the stuff his dad does... to him. Which immediately concerned him, So he reassured him that he would find a safe space for him when the time came... and it may have arrived.

John Price always dreamed of being a dad, To show one child all the love and affection he had in him. But military life had been straining that dream tight, So he decided to act on that dream now rather than wait, he went to multiple adoption agencies nearby, But the suitable matches weren't going anywhere in London. So he broadened his expansion to Manchester.

A/n was busy filling out some paperwork when he saw Price walk in. "Oh hello sir, How can I help you ??" He smiled at him. "Hi, I was looking into adopting if that's ok ??" He asked him.

"Oh that's wonderful, Come, have a seat" He and Price began the formal interview, Price really didn't want to get his hopes up during the whole thing. But then... "I do think we may have a child who would love your company" He smiled and passed him a file. Price opened it to reveal the file of a child named Simon Riley, As he read it, He couldn't help but feel very sad. This poor kiddo, he just wanted to wrap him in the softest blanket and make him a nice hot cocoa. "Would you like to meet him ??" A/n offered, to which Price nodded. "Of course"

The two then went to his room and A/n knocked on his door. "Simon, may I come in ??" He asked.

"Yes..." He answered.

"Just wait out here" A/n whispered to price as he entered the room. "Hey... How are you feeling ??"

"Ok" He answered bluntly.

"Simon... There's someone I'd like you to meet, He is really interested in adopting you, Isn't that exciting ??" He smiled, but Simon froze up. The fear returned to him. "N...No..." He grew scared.

"Simon, I promise I'll still be here, I'll be in the room ok ??" He gently reassured him. After a bit of convincing. Simon agreed to let Price meet him. "You can come in now" He opened the door a bit and walked back in, Price entered the room saw Simon and smiled. "Hey kiddo" He greeted. "Hi..." Simon said, not making eye contact with price. Price gently walked over and sat next to him, seeing the comic book in Simon's hand. "Bit of a batman fan are we ??" He inspected the cover, Simon nodding. He loved batman with his life.

It was a little quiet before Simon started to make very small talk, It was going smoothly for a little while but Price could see he was still very hesitant. So he asked A/n to meet him outside for a little bit. "I understand if he's a little quiet..." A/n tried to say.

"No, it's not that... Would it be ok if we just did a trial weekend ?? Help him warm up a little bit." He asked him. "Oh... yes yes, of course, Let me run it with him ok ??' He asked and Price nodded. Entering back in the room, A/n sat next to him. "Simon, Could I ask you something ??' He asked, Simon looked at him briefly and nodded slowly. "Mr price really would love to get to know you, He's asked if it's ok with you, Would you like to stay a weekend with him ??"

Simon's eyes went slightly wide, New fears ran all over his head, what if it could happen all over again... No, don't be so stupid, they wouldn't be that stupid... Would they ?? "I understand it sounds very scary, But we promise, just one weekend, If you didn't like it in the end that's ok too"

Simon thought about it for a little while, It was just one weekend and that was it. So... He decided to give it a go. After packing for a weekend, Simon followed Price back to his car and hopped in, beginning the drive. "You comfortable back there kiddo ?? It's gonna be a bit of a drive" Price looked back as Simon nodded to him. Soon beginning the drive to London.

Simon remained quiet for the entirety of the drive, Looking out the window and seeing things roll past him. Price sometimes looked back in the rearview mirror, seeing him. Hopefully, he does a good job. Soon arriving back in London, They made it back to Price's house, The two getting the much-needed stretches in. "Always a good feeling hey ??" Price smiled at him. Simon remained quiet and nodded, Following price to the door as he unlocked it.

He invited Simon inside, Slowly walking in, the first thing he saw was family photos on the wall. It made him feel slightly ill looking at them, Why couldn't he have that ?? He then spotted a TV in the living room and an arrangement of DVDs on a bookshelf. Looking through them, He noticed there were a lot of different types of movies, Back with... him, it was always very violent and scary movies. But with Price, he had a whole different taste. "Come, I'll show you your room." He smiled, leading Simon to the spare bedroom A nice big bed with freshly made sheets. "You look tired, Do you need to rest ??' Price asked. Simon yawned and nodded. "Ok, I'll be downstairs if you need me" Price smiled and gently closed the door.

Simon took off his shoes and crawled into the bed, Gently closing his eyes, Getting the needed rest after a very long drive. A couple hours later, he was awoken by... Some delicious smells. What could they be ??

He got up and crept down the stairs, Seeing Price cook dinner, It looked like... Lasagna... He could also hear Price hum to himself as he was singing something to the tune of the radio. As Price placed the lasagna in the oven, he noticed Simon and smiled, walking over gently. "Hey there kiddo, Sleep ok ??" Simon nodded at the question before saying "I did..."

Price smiled and gently brought his hand to Simon's head, Gently ruffling it. Simon couldn't help but twitch a smile briefly. No one has ever done this... The name of endearment, the physical affection, it was all new to him. "You wanna watch a movie ??" Price offered, Simon slowly nodded and followed Price to the living room. He sat down on the couch and kicked his legs slightly as Price went to the DVD cabinet and picked out a couple of movies, Going back to Simon, he showed him what there was on offer.

Chicken run... prince of Egypt... ... a bug's life... Simon stared at the cases for a little while before ultimately handing 2 back to Price and chose Chicken Run. "That one ??" He nodded. Price smiled, placed the DVDs back, popped the current movie into the player and started the movie, sitting next to Simon. He was intrigued by the premise of the movie, eyes glued to the screen. Price smiled as he saw him watching the movie, Inviting him to snuggle closer... Simon saw it and stared at him for a little bit before looking back at the screen. Maybe not just yet.

Price heard the bell of the oven ding and went over to serve the plates. Coming back to Simon with some cutlery and a tea towel, he offered him the fresh hot plate. "Careful now, It's still a little hot" Price warned Simon. "Thank you..."

Simon stared at his plate for a little bit, It looked... really delicious. "I make a killer lasagna" Price said to him proudly with a wink. Simon soon took the cutlery, cutting into it and taking a bite after blowing on it... Oh... It was... So delicious !!! Price smiled as he saw Simon happily eat his food. Once finished, Simon was a happy fed boy. But then... Another thing he was never asked back then... "Would you like some ice cream ??" He was never allowed to have ice cream after dinner. It was very strange, But he ended up saying... "Yes please"

Price nodded and got up, taking the empty plates with him and soon grabbing two bowls and a spoon, Taking the tub of ice cream out of the freezer, he scooped some up and placed them into the bowls. Handing it back to Simon. "There we go" he smiled as he sat back down.

Simon slowly ate as the movie continued, He felt... Like he was seen, He was being helped... He couldn't control his wobbly lip and the tears in his eyes as he snuggled up to price. This man made him feel... safe. Price noticed and smiled wide, wrapping an arm around Simon as the movie continued. Once it was finished, Price looked at him. "Did you enjoy that kiddo ??" He rubbed his arm gently.

"I... I did... Thank you, Mr Price" he said, snuggling impossibly closer to him. Price smiled and then soon, mischief took over him. Creeping his other arm around him, he then began... The tickle attack !!!, Simon gasped before launching into an array of giggles. Trapped in the clutches of Price's ticklish fingers "My my kiddo, So ticklish you are" He chuckled as he continued to tickle Simon's sides.

In that moment... Simon was home... He felt at home...

4 years later.

Simon *now age 14* has been living with Price for 4 years and their bond became unbreakable. He saw Price as a father figure, and even started calling him dad. Price loved Simon with everything within him. But he had a spare room in the house and more room in his heart for one more.

"Simon, can I talk to you about something ??" He sat down on the couch, inviting Simon.

"Hey Dad, What's up ??" Simon sat down next to him.

"How would you feel... If we opened up our home for one more ??" He smiled softly.

Simon sat there thinking about it, The thought of having... a sibling... That's nerve-wracking for a multitude of reasons... But like Price, he had room in his heart for one more as well. So with that, he agreed.

Price then decided to keep it close to home this time as he then went to the adoption agency in London again. But when he walked into the door, he saw a familiar face. "A/n ??"

A/n looked up and saw him, smiling "John, What a surprise"

Price smiled "What bring's you to London ??"

"Oh, they transferred me to the London Centre, It's been pretty fun. How is Simon doing anyway ??"

"Simon is doing good, He's really settled and I know he's happy." Price smiled wide, His kiddo was everything.

"Oh, that is absolutely amazing to hear"

"It is, I'm really proud of him"

"I'm glad he's doing nicely, So what can I do for you ??" He smiled, inviting price to sit.

"I had a talk with Simon and he's comfortable enough that I think another amazing addition to our house would make us all happy"

A/n nodded, smiling. "Oh wonderful, Ok let's get started then"

So once again the formal interview happened to match Price with a child. And then, they found one. A/n, passed a file to price.

"Y/n l/n" *age 12* Price opened the file and read through it.

"Poor child, Their mother kicked them out of the house and they had no family to go to... We found them on the streets and they've been mostly quiet"

Almost how Simon was found... "Can I talk to them ???" He asked. "Of course"

So they got up and walked to your room, A/n knocking on the door. "Y/n ??, I have someone I'd like you to meet"

"Come in..." You said hesitantly as the door opened.

"Y/n, this is John Price. He wants to meet and talk with you for a bit if that's ok ??"

You looked at him briefly and at Price who greeted you with a kind smile and nodded to you. You slowly nodded, indicating yes. "I'll leave you two be" A/n stepped outside as Price entered the room. "Hey y/n, can I sit ??"

You scooched over slowly, Indicating his invitation to do so. He sat down next to you, But not enough to intrude on your space. Seeing a book in your hand. "You like to read ??"

"Sometimes... depends on what it is" You answered him.

"Do you have a favourite genre ???"

"I like... sci-fi and thrillers"

"Nice, I'm a thriller kinda guy, but sci-fi gets thrown in there too" He smiled

"Oh yeah ??"

"Yeah. Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes?? It's one of my favourite book series"

You sat there thinking for a bit. "Hmmm no, I don't think I have"

"Maybe you'd like it. I think it's pretty good, but maybe you wouldn't that's ok too" He smiled.

You and Price continued to get to know each other for the next hour, You slowly began to open up a fair bit, telling Price about your hobbies and interests, even pulling out your figurine from your backpack. "This is Jason Todd, or red hood, He's from the Batman universe." You showed him.

"Oh wow, that's really cool... Y/n, I have a son back at home, His name is Simon and he is similar to you. If you were to meet him and see if you two got along, would you like that ??"

"I guess so..." You went quiet again... The whole situation was a tad bit daunting. You knew he meant well.

He could see the look on your face... He didn't want to force you into anything "What if I stop by later today or tomorrow so you two can spend some time together, Don't feel too pressured, only if you'd be comfortable."

You nodded gently "Ok..."

"It was lovely to meet you Y/n" He smiled and got up, Heading back home, Simone heard him enter the doorway "How did it go ??" Simone asked, Looking up from the tv.

"It went well, I met a kid named y/n, Would it be ok if I brought you over to meet them, I'd think you too would get along" He smiled softly.

"Yeah..." Simon was a little nervous, would you like him ??, Would they be freaked out by the mask ?? *Simon wears a skull surgical mask* He was very hesitant... But... he believed he was ready to be a sibling again.

Heading back to the centre with Simon in tow, A/n guided them to your room and knocked on the door. "Come in..." You said, Price entered the room first before Simon. "Hey again y/n, I brought my son Simon with me" He smiled. Simon stood behind him, quietly staring at you for a bit before waving a little.

"Hi..." You waved back.

He was a bit hesitant, Seeing if you were ok with his presence at first, But you didn't seem hesitant... so that's a good start. So Price gently turned to Simon, Softly smiling and nodding in the direction, He came over to you and sat next to you.

"Hi"

"Hey" He greeted

"Cool mask"

"Thanks... Most people are kind of freaked out by it"

"Well... I think it's cool"

"Thanks... Dad tells me you like to read ??' He tries to start a conversation with you.

"Yeah." You then showed him the book you were reading. A book called Wonder.

Simon inspected it for a bit, Slowly relaxing and sort of sitting on the edge of the bed. "This looks good"

"It is, I'm liking it so far." Price saw a slight shift in your body language, in a more positve note,

"What's your favourite ??' You asked.

"I'm into horror" He answered.

"Oh yeah ?? What's your favourite ???"

"I like Stephen King, I got to read the shining a couple months ago too"

"Nice, I've always wanted to read Carrie, that looks cool"

"I think I remember liking that one"

Price remained silent, soon slipping away outside to give you two the space you wanted, the atmosphere settled down, and it was comfortable. The two were engaging in a full conversation like you had with Price. It was nice, Simon could see why Price liked you, You were kind, and he didn't think he'd mind you becoming a part of the family, Soon price came back inside.

"How are you kiddo's going ??" He smiled

"Doing good" Y/n answered.

Simon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're doing good"

"That's great, I'm glad you two are getting along"

"Simon is really cool" You smiled softly.

Simon smiled as well under the mask. "Y/n is nice and cool as well"

This in turn makes Price smile. "Yeah ??" He then turned to you "Y/n, I know it's a lot all at once, but... If you two talked it out, would you want to come home with us ??"

"Oh..." You went quiet, Simon noticed this too.

"That's ok, It doesn't have to be right away. There's no pressure, I promise"

"Could you give us a minute ??" You asked price, To which he agreed and stepped out and nodded, Simon could see your hesitancy. "You guys are cool... But I don't know..."

Simon gently shifted and scooted over. "I know it's a huge step. But believe me, I was in the same position as you. I was... terrified of going home with John before, But he's really kind and he's given me everything i need and more, I know he wouldn't hesitate to do the same for you."

You continued to think about it... But the thoughts of your mom came back to you... the yelling, the stuff being thrown... You couldn't help but think that if you went back with them... It would happen all over again... "I... I can't... I'm too scared... Of it happening all over again, My mom... She used to do many things... Made me very scared... And I'm scared that if I go with you guys it'll happen all over again." You admitted. "I can't help but think... It'll happen all over again." You looked down at the floor, sad.

Simon hesitated for a bit until he gently placed his hand on your shoulder, softly squeezing it. "Y/n..." He hesitated for a bit, it was still too painful to talk about. "I understand that, I know what that's like, I'll say that much. I've lived with him for 4 years and haven't once thought I wasn't loved, With all the stuff I went through and the damage he had to repair... He just wants to love you and give you what you deserve and need, That's why he's here" He squeezed your shoulder again. "I know, I know how you feel. I was just as scared about that. But he's given me more love than I thought possible"

Listening to that, you started to have a change of heart. Maybe... Simon was right, Maybe Price really wanted to help you. "Ok... I'll give it a chance" You nodded, turning to Simon.

He smiled a little under his mask.

Price then came back inside after a bit. "Have you given it a bit of thought y/n ??"

You nodded. "I'll give you a chance"

With that, Price smiled wide and nodded. Like Simon, you were given a weekend with the two. So you packed your bag, and before you knew it, you were in the car with them heading to their home... Possibly your home too.

You arrive at their house soon after. "Woah..." It was a relatively big house.

"Welcome home" Price smiled, Opening the door for you.

"Thank you" You smiled softly and entered, It was nice and cozy.

"Come on, I'll show you your room" Simon said to you and guided you upstairs, Placing your bag down as you sat down on the bed. "It's nice and comfy hey ??" He smiled softly at you. "Yeah, Where's your room ??"

"This used to be mine, But dad let me use the basement as my room" He said.

Speaking of Price. "The room nice and cozy ??' He asked you.

"It is, Thank you" You nodded.

"I'll get dinner started shortly, you two keep each other company eh ??"

Simon turned to you "Come on, I'll set up my XBOX in the living room" He rushed downstairs, You hightailing. XBOX ?? You liked XBOX.

He then set everything up, sitting down and passing you a controller. "I got halo 2 or sonic heroes" He said to you, showing you the cases. You looked at them for a little bit. Interesting choices, In the end, You ended up with halo 2.

Simon placed the disk in and the game started, soon the two of you were having fun, Price could see you start to warm up more to Simon. It was like the two of you were Immediately best friends. He soon eventually came over to you two. "Dinner will be ready soon kiddos" He smiled, gently squeezing Simon's shoulder and ruffling your hair, to which you giggled. "Hey" You fixed it up. It was the first time Price heard you laugh.

"I think it looks better this way" He smirked, ruffling it again. "Stop" You giggled again.... and soon he slipped his hands under your shoulders, Get em Simon" He smiled. Simon get's your waist and the two start tickling you, Launching you into further giggles and laughs

"Gotcha kiddo" Price chuckled, tickling you harder, making you squeak out your laughs.

"Your just as ticklish as Simon" He smirked as he continued. "So so ticklish you are"

"Stohohoho....Stohohoho..." You said in between laughs.

"They almost had it Dad" Simon looked up at him.

"They did, So close y/n, try again" He smirked.

Happy tears started to emerge from your eyes as you finally got out. "STOHOHOHOHOHOHP"

"There it is" They finally let you go. You smiled, curling in on yourself. Price ruffling your head again. Soon the oven dinged, and dinner was ready. Simon bolted to the kitchen as dinner was being served. You weren't too far. He served you... His iconic lasagna. "This looks delicious" You said as he sat down.

"Eat away kiddo" He smiled as you all started to eat, Like Simon, this was the best thing you ever had. It was just so delicious. You didn't even realise you burped once you finished. "Sorry..." You apologised, but then Simon did you one better and let out a louder, longer burp. "Excuse me dad" Which made you giggle. Price chuckled softly and turned to you. "It's ok."

Once dinner was done, You and Simon went back to your halo match as the bond between you two grew... And then, you made your decision...

"Mr price, can I talk to you."

"Of course kiddo what's up ??" He smiled softly at you.

You turned to Simon and back to him before looking at your hands shyly, Trying to come up with the words. "It's ok take your time." He reassured before Simon saw you and walked to the entrance of the kitchen.

With a deep breath... "I... I want to stay with you guys... Not for one weekend."

You wanted to be adopted into their family, Your family. Price smiled so wide and soon pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Simon didn't hesitate and rushed over to you. Hugging you tightly. Making you giggle, You were home...

You were home.

A/N: A great way to start the new blog by breaking my own word count record :D

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader

113 notes · View notes

stoned-rat · 1 year

Text

The new steam version of dwarf fortress is amazing and I fucking love seeing how many people are enjoying these silly little guys and their misadventures. So here is a random collection of things I love about dwarf fortress, it's community, and it's history. (Plus some personal anecdotes)

-That one time fish became one of the games greatest threats

-That one mod that brings deadly carps back

-Training dwarven children with "danger rooms" filled with wooden spikes

-New training mechanics being added to prevent players from throwing all their children into spike pits

-When players posted their best mermaid genocide blueprints, and the creators had to patch the game AGAIN to stop their players from commiting outrageous war crimes

-bOATS and the lack there of

-The game is under halfway done according to it's creators. The game has been in development for 20 years.

-not only do you have gay, asexual, and bisexual dwarves, but animals too. Wondering why you arent getting any chicks? Sorry, your rooster likes cock.

-That one time I wasn't thinking and built a baracks next to a waterfall and my military kept throwing themselves to their deaths

-No race is actually "evil." Goblins and animal people can even join your fort and become valuable citizens.

-Elves are cannibals.

-The game being considered notoriously hard, but actually having extremely customizable difficulty settings. You will just get bored of everything going well.

-That one mod in the steam workshop that changes all the models to have giant tits

-The way dwarves will just refuse to do what you want them too

-Forts falling to their knees because cats kept adopting dwarves and having kittens until the game won't load anymore.

-The fact there are canonically no boats, but dwarves will continue to migrate to your haunted glacier year after year.

-When rain causes PTSD

-Guiding nobles under a bridge so you can lower it and they are literally crushed out of existence

-pangolins are invincible, and your hunters will pass out from exhaustion before killing one.

-The steam version coming out with a glitch that causes archers to not pick up crossbow bolts, but instead bash their enemies to death with their crossbows.

-Anyone's first attempt at redirecting a brook

-The game will always be available for free. The ASCII version will stay available for free download on Bay12, and will continue to be developed alongside the steam version. The premium/steam version was introduced to help the creators afford medical costs and thousands of people came out to buy a game that has been free for nearly two decades, and always will be.

-When asked what plans the creators had now that they were millionaires, they both said they had been more focused on the dwarves than the money and don't even know what they will do with all of it, beyond take care of themselves and keep working on the dwarves.

#dwarf fortress

817 notes · View notes

trashlie · 11 months

Text

ILY FP 232

Better known as: trashlie is STILL climbing the wallls and TAKING YOU WITH HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Look idk what I can get away saying in these intros without being spoilery anymore because by the time I sit down to write this I’m just VIBRATING AWAY on pure energy. You know when you feel words at your fingertips but you are too consumed by other menial tasks you’ve no interest in doing so you gotta bide your time and it just grows and grows and grows until it bursts out of you howling?

Yeh.......

Let’s jump right in!!!!!!!!!!

I’m gonna be real with you guys - it’s gonna take a LOT for me to not to do rambling long repeats of things I said last week. I’m gonna do my best but... 232 is very much a continuation of 231 so it is what it is!

Leading up to the episode my friends and I were talking and the general consensus was we hoped Shinae would try knocking down Nol’s door but alkjjjkafjkafkj DIDN’T EXPECT SHE WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO TRY TO BULLDOZE THE DOOR ON HER OWN AND START SHOUTING AT HIM THROUGH THE DOOR LMAO but listen Shinae so very PERSISTENT!!!!! She’s so over being thrown out, SO over being shut out, and it’s all right there in front of her but she just CANNOT see it for what it is, cannot understand what is compelling her besides that she cares.

And boy does she care.

Her frustration is, as I said last week, completely justified, of course, but in this case, they’re both justified and that really does her no favors, does it? Yelling and banging on his door, trying any tactic she can to get him to open up, to rethink his decision to cast her out. He has basically told her “come back when you figure it out” but she doesn’t know what “it” is or what else could be there, so she can only feel like he’s shutting her out once again, refusing to open up to her after just reconciling.

At the core of Shinae’s frustration and persistence is fear. She’s so afraid of losing him again, terrified of yet another important person letting go and turning their back to her.

And as much as I feel for Shinae, I also can’t help but feel for Nol who is on the other side of the door, unable to make himself walk away from it, arms pinned at his side against the door as though he doesn’t trust them to not reach for the door handle, doesn’t trust himself to maintain the boundary. He’s kicked her out - but barely. He can’t leave the side of that door while Shinae stands right outside of it, banging away. GOD I enjoy the agony of it, I NEED MORE. Shinae’s threats are so comical but she’s literally grasping at straws and he knows it. The same Nol who broke that day in the rain is barely holding it together, knowing that once again he is causing her pain.

As readers we know that once she figures it out, she’ll understand. As soon as Shinae understands what Nol is trying to get her to see, she’ll know exactly why he had to draw that boundary and keep the space, but in this moment she doesn’t know any of this, and it is just so agonizing!

Just as she’s been confessing all day long, she continues to tell him all the things she can’t see for what they are - how much she hates when he shuts her out, how she can’t understand why they’re back here when they just go out of this and GOD i love it because you can FEEL how much she cares. Even if she doesn’t know what the feeling is, even if she can’t call it what it is, she cares so much! And you can see how much it hurts him! How difficult it is to stand there and let her think he’s casting her to the streets again, to have her fight so passionately for him for them when he understands now what kind of hurt he’s inflicted (and continues to inflict!!!!!!!) GOD

Nol understands so well his resistance - his resolve - and knows he has to keep that physical barrier between them. Even before he could barely look at her when he did, when she flustered under his gaze and command, he threw her out before he could crumble all the way and there’s something about seeing it illustrated this way, showing us rather than telling, how hard this is for him. I’m sure his thought is that once Shinae figures it out - once she knows her feelings, once she can understand his feelings, once she can see what Dieter saw that hurt him so much, she’ll be the one to draw the boundary he struggles so hard with. That once he’s not the only one who knows, she can stop pushing him, can stop breaking him down, can act on the effort he can barely muster.

I love that panel of Shinae banging on the door while he stands on the other side, face screwed up in frustration and agony. It’s so difficult, it’s SO HARD. She’s going on about being shut out, about how “ a misunderstanding” has come between them. She’s so scared their relationship doesn’t mean to him what it means to her, so scared that he’s content to throw it all away, so scared that she will lose him once and for all - and he has to stand and bear it, knowing he’s causing her to feel these things, knowing there’s no easy way out.

UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHH SCREAMS

It’s the sheer irony! That the thing he wants her to comprehend is the VERY THING she’s yelling at him about, it’s the very thing compelling her.

Well. That and her sleep deprivation LMAO

I never shut up about noticing when characters have their eyes closed, but it’s such an important part of quimchee’s subtle storytelling. Note how Nol’s face is still screwed up in frustration when he tells her to go away, followed by telling her she’s so damn annoying.

I’ve already seen that there are people reading that at face value but over here round these parts, we know better. Nol’s eyes closed as he tells her to go away, while he stands with his door still pressed against the door.

He so easily could have walked away, gone back to his bed across the room. Instead he stands there, torturing himself as he listens to her yell at him from the other side of the door. Nol tells her to go away because he needs her to go away, for his peace of mind, for his crumbling resolve, but on some level, of course he doesn’t want her to. Of course sending her away, pushing her away, walking away from her is difficult, is something he forces himself to do, that is so incredibly difficult for him.

Let’s not forget him at the curb retching after hurting Shinae in all the worst ways and then walking away and leaving her in the freezing rain.

Quimchee literally doesn’t need to spell it out because it’s all right there for us to see. It’s in his closed eyes, in his back against the door he can’t pull himself away from, in his frustration, in his crumbling resolve, in his sheer agony.

Let’s also not forget how this all started. It wasn’t even initially about Dieter - it was about Nol hiding himself away, about him refusing to show the parts of him that she really wants to see, about how it hurts her that he can’t open up. At the heart of this lmao it’s literally about how Shinae just wants to LOVE him and he wants her to understand tHAT SHE DOES.

SCREAMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love this episode it’s so good it’s got me chewing through my freaking keyboard trying to write this AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LKAJFKJFAKJAFJKAFJKAFJKAFJKAFJ

But, of course, the important take away is that Shinae cannot see the forest for the trees. She’s so caught up in her own intense feelings, lost in her fear and what she wants so badly and she only knows how to fight. Shinae is a bit of a short fuse but it’s even worse because of the harrowing 24 hours she’s been through. To think so many episodes ago she was moving back in to her home with Simhan! It feels so far away after everything that’s transpired! She hasn’t slept, we know she hasn’t really eaten in hours, she’s already in a foul mood after how her dance with Nol soured and how upset she got about what he hides from her. There’s now way for her to be rational - trying to literally kick in his door lmao - or think things through because her despair and frustration is so all-consuming it just clouds her judgement.

There’s something so funny about how Nana takes her away and suddenly settled down, Shinae just goes full sulking lmao. I love how impetuously teenager it is, too, for Nana to tell Shinae that she does, in fact, need to leave, that is isn’t actually the big deal she thinks it is but Shinae is like blah blah OLD PEOPLE WISDOM IS NOT NEEDED HERE alkjfakfjkafjfa lmao

It must be so funny to Nana, that this little spitfire girl is fighting like hell for him, fighting so hard to not be cast out, and can’t understand WHY she’s fighting, what any of it means lmao like aflkjafjkafjkafj

Of course Nana knows. Anyone would be able to tell! From how awkward they were around each other in the room, how sulky Nol was fiddling with her headband (AND THE BLUSHING), the whole argument they’ve had about Dieter - who Nana knows!!!!!!!! Had a crush on her!!!!!!!! Of course she with her decades of life can see exactly what Shinae is fighting.

Taking her away from Nol is important. I LOVE this exchange they have: Nana: You’d need the right key to get that door open. Shinae: And? A key isn’t necessary when you use enough force! Nana: But you could damage the door. And nobody likes an intruder. Breaking doors could get yourself kicked out and never be able to come back. Both literally and figuratively. You wouldn’t want that now would ya?

I’m sure Nana must speak from some kind of experience. Thinking about how she took him in when he left the psychiatric ward where it seems like he was traumatized, from where he still carries so many unhealed wounds and scars, after losing his mother and being left all alone in a foreign country with no family, made to believe he’s some kind of monster like the loss of his mom was his fault, that he deserved everything that came to him. The special name his mom had given him had been worn down and destroyed, tainted and made to mean nothing. He comes home and he doesn’t even go back to his father, to their family, but someone he’s told is his grandma. How can he trust her? His own father doesn’t want him, he’s been sent to live with some stranger, away from his father’s family. An outcast, an outsider, all alone.

She probably tried so hard to get through to him. How do you reach someone like him? How do you get through to someone who keeps everyone at arms’ length, who is so full of fear and self-loathing, who has been made to feel so insignificant, so worthless, a mistake, a monster. We still don’t even know just how bad it was locked inside there. His fear of Yui, his aversion to medication and hospitals, how much he detests tea, his touch aversion. How much of what he believes about himself - that he caused his mother’s death, that he deserves all the bad, that he will only bring harm to those he loves, that his existence is a mistake - came from there? GOD it hurts lmao lajfjkfjkafjk LIKE just writing this makes me want to howl. This is such a foundational aspect of who Nol is. He’s not just some melodramatic teenager (which even isn’t a bad thing) but he has spent a significant portion of his memorable life in survival mood, just fighting to stay afloat, fighting all of the demons who hold him down.

Nana loves him so much, that much is so clear. And she knows him so well. She knows what he needs is time, she knows how stubborn and obstinate he is, and she probably knows all too well how he shuts others out and how, much like quicksand, the harder you fight and struggle, the worse it will be. Her line about breaking doors can get you kicked out is so loaded. Did she try to break his doors, too? Did she try so hard to reach someone who wanted to be so unreachable and found herself on the other side of a door, too? aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

Just thinking about he was just this scared kid so alone and she believes her daughter took her own life and she didn’t see it coming, didn’t imagine her the person who would do it and it reminded her that you never really know, do you? He was this kid so closed off, so alone, who hid so much, and we’ve seen her reach out to him over and over, encourage him to spend time with people who care about him. I’m sure a part of her worries, fears, that maybe he’d go the same path as his mom. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how he told Dieter he “tried to visit his mom”. That HAUNTS me and I bet it’s something that haunts her, too.

(Alternatively, if he came out with his Yeonggi mask, ready to fake his way through, ready to force a smile a joke a laugh to pretend everything is fine when under the surface she can see it’s not. Remembering how he met Dieter, I think the Yeonggi persona was a thing that grew the more he tried it on, but whether or not she met him as this scared lonely kid or this kid with a fake mask on, we just know she’s been THROUGH it trying to reach him with everything she’s got ;____________;)

Getting to see so much into their relationship makes me feel SO FUCKING FERAL. Knowing that yes, Nol DID talk about Shinae to her, that contrary to what we’ve seen through much of this series, Nol didn’t always close himself away in his room locked up with his thoughts and self-loathing. That he would go home and talk to Nana about people who piqued his interest, tell her about his hare-brained attempts to befriend them, about the struggles he faced in getting through to them. Did she see the fond irony - that someone who once was so hard for her to reach to get through found someone who was just as difficult to get through to and one day he went from talking about how difficult she was to talking about her as his friend? GOD it gets to meeeeeeeeeee. She must’ve seen the shift, too - when she went from being the subject of his attempt to help out Dieter to being his friend, to mattering to him.

I’M IN AGONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I wish we could see a little bit of that, of the Nol he was so briefly before he had to put the walls back up, before the self-loathing fully consumed him again, before all the tendrils of shadow wrapped themselves around him and began to drag him back out of the light again. But fortunately what we DO get comes close. That moment earlier when he told Nana about how he’d already seen his friends, how they all came to celebrate his birthday can you believe it? GOD MY HEART ACHES.

I suspect we’ll probably be seeing more of them because clearly someone needs to talk with him - someone rational and removed from the situation, someone who can try to make him see that he cannot help his feelings, that he cannot control all situations, and is any of this really your fault? Is it his fault at all that Shinae didn’t like Dieter enough that way, that it didn’t happen over time? Is it his fault if she instead saw something in him that she flocked to, if there existed something between them that she wants to fight so hard for? AAAAHHHHHHHHHH

Both Nol and Shinae are so stubborn so OBSTINATE and they’re both STRUGGLING so of course it was wise of Nana to take Shinae away, even if she had to trick her lmao. Shinae at Nol’s door only makes it worse, could, as she said, push him to lock her out for real. Nana knows that Shinae hasn’t been cast out, she knows what the problem is, but of course why would Shinae believe her? lol It’s that obstinate teenager thing that makes me laugh so much now that I’m well passed that stage - so certain that no one could possibly understand what you’re feeling, that they couldn’t possibly understand what is wrong lmao

Honestly, Nana and Shinae are nothing like I expected them to be, and I really love that. Nana barely even knows her, but she does know how to poke and wheedle her. Everything feels so poised to help Shinae zero in on the reason behind her frustration.

I really love that she revealed to Shinae that Nol has told her about her, that she has, from the sidelines through a biased lens, watched their relationship grow - and as a result, saw the effect she had on him, what their friendship did t and for him. Even though Nol has told Shinae she’s special, because he’s so hot and cold, because he doesn’t open up, because she doesn’t get to see him, it’s hard for her to really internalize that it’s true. How can it be when he’s so willing to throw away all of this, right? So for Nana to reveal that she knows all about how closed off Shinae used to be but that changed didn’t it is such a MOMENT for her. She doesn’t look like she can believe it - Nol talked about her? About how she fought him and ran away?

More importantly, Nana is trying to give Shinae a little nudge that she can’t yet see. She tells Shinae she’s not trying to make her feel bad about turning down Dieter, but to lay out their foundation: that originally Nol was trying to play Cupid, but the arrows got all messed up. I think it’s one of those things that while right now Shinae thinks it’s just people trying to make her feel guilty, soon she’ll see for what it was - the problem lies in their foundation, the reason Dieter is hurt is because of the way it all went wrong. Soon, Shinae is going to be holding her head in her hands yelling about how did she not see it how was she so blind THAT’S what they meant this is what they all meant?! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I find it really cute that Nana is using the same technique as Nol, trying to get Shinae to think about her feelings. Why do you feel terrible? What did you actually do wrong? How does it make you feel bad? And then LMAO baiting Shinae with a hint about the problem in an disguised effort to kick her out LMAOOOOOOO to be fair, she DOES give Shinae the hint, just..... not the way she wants LMAO

The way Nana gets Shinae reminiscing, thinking back on how their friendship began, how they ended up at this point, just what is so significant about those oranges - the things Shinae doesn’t say about how they symbolize the change from him being this annoying guy that she wanted nothing to do with to this person she CANNOT let go of that she CANNOT lose GOD. That’s SO good. She talks about how she’s so bad at talking about her feelings and opening up and that she’s trying to be better at it - but she also cannot stop talking about Nol lmao

She’s moody about all the things she doesn’t know about him yet. What his real name is, why she’s not allowed to use, how Nana gets to do it why can’t she? Does he hate his name, where did the Yeonggi moniker come from?

“I wanna know where he got it from... There’s so many things I wanna know about him...”

I JUST WANNA GRAB HER BY THE SHOULDERS AND RATTLE HER AROUND lajkfkfjfkafkjafj I love it, okay? it’s one of those tell tale signs - when you grow interested in a person, when you start to like them and you have that insatiable hunger to know them so intimately to know every detail about them you want to know everything about them you want to discover them from inside out. And for her it’s doubly worse since he DOESN’T show her what she wants to see. She’s out here craving to understand him so intimately and can’t understand why he can’t show her that. Why can’t he be vulnerable why can’t he open up?

She is SO HEAD OVER HEELS she is soooooooo full of feelings she wants to know everything he’s hidden GOD!!!!!!!!

HOW ARE THERE PEOPLE WHO DON’T SEE IT? HOW ARE THERE PEOPLE WHO DON’T GET ANY OF THIS?!

She THINKS there’s nothing going on between them but she’s sulking to his grandma, she’s upset because he won’t show her himself because she wanted to see his face because they shared this intimate tender moment because it was such a SOFT warm HAPPY moment for her and they couldn’t share it because they weren’t on the same level

She is MOPING she really thinks he’s casting her out and she’s terrified of losing all of that.

Shinae over here saying that of course all her relationships with her friends are going to be different but she can’t see why this one, in particular, is so dire, doesn’t understand what the everything she thinks he’s throwing away signifies.

GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really look forward to learning more about Yeonggi, because I’ve been really curious about that, too. Was it a name he’d just picked out, what was the significance? I look forward to Nol telling her about it, too; Nana has told her all she knows and anyway it’s better to let Nol do it. It’s better for Nol to know all of this, to hear all the things Shinae wants to know, how she’s so insatiably hungry to know everything about him, how she just wants to know him - everything there is to him the good the ugly the things he hasn’t shown anyone else ;A; aaaahhhhhhhhhh

Nana is really the PERFECT character to REALLY bring in for this arc. She goes head to head with Shinae lmao and dances circles around her. The whole distracting her as she evacuates her from the building while getting her to dwell on her feelings? PERFECTLY executed. Telling her the hint she’s looking for is that SHE is one of the problems LMAO aklfkafkjafjfjf What’s she supposed to do with that information?!

Of course, like I said earlier, like Nana is telling her, some down time WILL do wonders. Right now her head is so full of intensity, but when she steps away, when she’s mulling and dwelling and sleeps and assuages her crankiness when her brain can go back to functioning well, THEN she’ll be able to think about it, THEN she’ll be able to figure out what the key is. But right now she’s just making things worse - for him, for herself, and for their problem.

Sleep deprivation really messes with you lol especially when she’s spent the most harrowing night of her life. Can you believe that this probably beats out THE KIM FORMAL because this time she NEARLY WATCHED HER BEST FRIEND DIE OUT IN FRONT OF HER?! Christ!!!!!!!!!

And besides Shinae, Nana, and Nol, this episode feels like it’s nudging a couple other things. The pointed emphasis on the hospital departments and floor board feels like a nod that Hansuke will be bringing Kousuke here for his CT scan. On the one hand, I’m really excited to see more about Kousuke and what Hansuke is thinking. I’m no doctor but I assume a CT scan might be able to indicate some kind of drugging just because how it would affect the brain, right? A brain on a particular medication would look a certain way? Forgive me, science was never my strong suit and I don’t know the difference between a CT and other scans lmao but I imagine if it’s the kind of imaging that can indicate neurons firing and active parts of the brain, maybe it would tell them enough that they should try more labwork? Especially now that Hansuke knows about the hormone imbalance and has picked up on Kousuke’s fixation with tea and it being one of the only things he can remember (that he’s admitted).

But on the other hand..... Nol has SO much going on, is he ready to face Kousuke again? Like, don’t get me wrong, I want to see more of them, especially knowing how worried Kousuke is about him, that he hasn’t forgotten what happened last night or that he caused it. But with everything Nol is dealing with - the aftermath of it all, feeling like an asshole for hurting Dieter, Shinae, all of this, is he ready to see Kousuke again? I guess part of me worries that Kousuke is... yknow. More fragile and that if he fights with Nol, it might affect the progress he made? Or maybe now that they had that er... “heart to heart” now that he confessed those sins his fears he would be able to hear Nol out without deflecting?

I just know if Kousuke ends up at the same hospital and he spots anyone from Nol’s circle he’ll try to find him lol he IS worried (and worried for HIM not based on Rand or punishment or any of that). He’s got no idea how Nol is, where he is, what happened, how bad it is. GOD. HARROWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone is going to be SO HAUNTED by this night.

The other matter is, of course, the custodian taking out the trash when Nana tells them they should go somewhere private, she doesn’t want “him” eavesdropping on the conversation. Initially I’d assumed this is because ultimately she is trying to get Shinae the heck out of there and it’s her excuse to get him out, but it could easily have been written “So no one can eavesdrop” right?

The theory is that this is one of the people that Yui probably pays to act as a spy for her so that she can keep track of people and always knows what they’re doing, so she can always be two steps ahead. The only thing that really gives me pause regarding this, though, is that she has no idea where Nol is (yet). She has no idea where Rand took him, and I can’t imagine she employs people in hospitals all over the city should anyone report anything suspicious to her. So how would this be one of her spies?

I’m not saying it’s not possible at all because he WAS very emphasized, but it just leaves me wondering if Yui doesn’t know where they are, how could that be a spy, right? But look, sometimes the narrative pulls a fast one on us. We can’t see what she’s up to at all times, now can we?

All in all, I really loved this episode and I’ve been loving this arc SO MUCH. All of this everything since the Christmas party has been SO GOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!! Seeing all of those plot lines really converge and the stakes go higher has made every episode a treat to read, but I love that in the midst of this, Shinae and Nol have this very big, important thing to clear up. Over the course 230 episodes we’ve been watching these two grow so important to each other and honestly, I love watching Shinae fight for him like this, even if lmao she’s going at it all the wrong way. For someone like Nol who is so used to being invisible, to have her putting up such a fight, confirming whatever feelings he can’t be sure if she actually feels, would be such a welcome thing - except for the reminder that Dieter has been hurt in the cross-fires. I really want to see Nana have a talk with him and maybe TRY to get him to see it, that you cannot control feelings, that acting on them isn’t bad. That Dieter WILL come around, that he isn’t really much of a friend if he puts his own wants and happiness above Nol’s.

But of course, Nana alone won’t do. Nol REALLY needs to talk to Dieter, too. But unlike Shinae, Dieter seems to know he needs to be alone for a little while. He’s got to sort out his own feeling and untangle that hurt. Thinking about things from his perspective IS painful - Yeonggi cut them out, he blocked their numbers, he refused to see them, and then suddenly he shows back up after asking to be left alone, he almost DIES in front of them, and Dieter wakes up to witness Nol and Shinae having this moment.

He’s got a lot of things to sort out, too, he needs sleep and room to think.

I’m really interested to see how all of it plays out. For Dieter’s sake, I hope there’s some kind of explanation because unlike Shinae, he and Soushi are still in the dark. Why did Nol leave and come back? Why did he box them out? He showed so much affection when he hugged them and told them he loves them so I’m sure they know that he has his reasons but still, people have limits. They deserve to know what Shinae does. I she willing to have that talk, though?

aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

I imagine we’ll probably be veering back to Kousuke here shortly, if not the next espisode. I imagine Shinae may get picked up before that.... ? Maybe? It feels like we were JUST with Kousuke, but I don’t think we’ll be revisiting Yui JUST yet. Maybe we’ll see Shinae get home, let her thoughts pull her to sleep, and then go visit Kousuke and Hanske? IDK god knows I can never predict what’s coming next but no matter which direction we go, we don’t go wrong!

It’s so funny that the fabled Minhyuk party was something that I thought would happen and then we’d slide slowly into a timelapse taking us through the first time jump to graduation and stuff but SURPRISE: NOL ALMOST DIED, KOUSUKE IS UNDERGOING HELL, NOL’S FREEDOM HAS BEEN EXTENDED, CHRISTMAS IS COMING UP!!!!!!!!! We have literal DAYS left until Nol goes away, and then do we even immediately go into our timelapse timeskip?! Quimchee talked so much about how she didn’t want to have to draw snow, so at least so much of this takes place indoors but LMAO it’s still kinda funny

aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I love this webtoon so much I love this story so much I love this whole arc honestly it’s been hit after hit for me and I’m so glad I get to keep screaming about it every week at all of you and just scale walls and swing from rafters I AM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY Spoilers #ILY FP #Stalkyoo #Shinae Yoo #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Nana Lochlain #lmaoooo #Eleanor Lochlain #Kousuke Hirahara #i'm still chewing through the cables yelling about my feelings AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #also while writing this i had SVT - Home TXT - Ghosting MX - Blame Me and #Shownu and Minhyuk's Have a Goodnight on repeat and BOY did they give me the feels wow wow wow #love to just inject more feelings into favorite songs aljfakjfjkafjafjafjkaf #I'm really looking forward to seeing Nol and Nana talk - partly because I just KNOW he's gonna be SO pathetic and I'm gonna eat that UP #partly because I think Nana can get through to him to some degree #if only it's to point out that Shinae clearly cares SO MUCH and he needs to be careful not to push her away lest he be left with only their #memories #also thinking about how nana and hol's relationship must've started out put me SO DEEP IN THE EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS

59 notes · View notes

squishy-lombax · 10 months

Text

Umbrella (Fowlham fanfic)

Believe it or not, I've never written a fan fiction before! I hope you enjoy my first attempt! I decided to go with a comfort fandom of mine, RC9GN with a pairing I think is cute and sadly did not have much scene-time; FowlHam. If you're here from my Secret Trio comic book, this fic takes place before the events of my comic. Side note: I head-canon Randy with ADHD and Theresa with Autism. Reminiscent of the relationship that my partner and I have in real life. So hopefully I represented the disorders well.

It was an over-cast day when McFist's new McSneak shoes went on sale. The forecast said it would rain, so all those in line held umbrellas. No one was willing to miss the release of these new shoes just because of a little rain. Randy Cunningham was one of those lucky people waiting in line. Well, if you call standing in line for hours since the butt crack of dawn with the threat of rain "lucky." His best friend, Howard Weinerman, was there too; although, he came hours later with snacks.

Following the sound of groans and curses, "Th-thank *gasp* honking *gasp* cheese I found you Cunningham," Howard exclaimed as he shoved his way in line next to Randy, "Let me tell you! If I had to fight off one more toddler before finding you, I would have given up!"

"Well maybe I wouldn't be so far in line if you had gotten here on time," Randy greeted his friend, grabbing a bag of chips from his arms.

"Just be thankful I kept you updated. Do you know how hard it is to text when one of your hands looks like this?!' Howard said forcing a McCheeto dust covered hand up to Randy's face.

"Hey! Watch the hoodie, you shoob!" Randy retorted as a mild slapping match ensued.

The violence stopped as quickly as it started when the first drops of rain began to fall. There was a brief commotion as people extended their umbrellas. Randy grabbed his umbrella and found that opening it when one hand was occupied by a bag of chips was difficult. After fumbling for a few seconds he eventually turned to Howard for assistance. Howard obliged but kept a smug smile the whole time. Howard reached his dust covered hand over and pressed the release button. With the power of teamwork, the umbrella opened. Randy rolled his eyes as Howard added "see, it's pretty difficult when you're burdened with the best snacks borrowed money can buy".

"Okay, but did borrowed money," Randy air-quoted, "buy you an umbrella?"

Howard was unable to continue their battle of wits as the rain began to downpour. The umbrella-less Howard ducked under Randy's inconspicuous Ninja-themed umbrella as their playful argument was momentarily forgotten.

Rain has a funny effect on people. It has a magic that can cause a whole crowd of excited people to fall into a silence. Only something so powerful can make Randy and Howard quiet for more than two minutes. Howard licked his fingers of the McCheeto dust before popping open another bag. Randy, his bag of chips forgotten, began to disassociate as he stared out into the steady shower. The puddle forming in a nearby pothole caught his eye first. Then, a splash created by a car as it nearly hit a woman at the bus stop. Until he settled on a soaked Theresa running across the street. "Wait- a soaked Theresa running across the street?" Randy did a double take before his mind could wander to the next moving object. Yup, that was Theresa. She was without an umbrella and carrying what he thought was a grocery bag.

Nudging Howard, "Do you think I should help her?" Randy asked.

"Help who, bro?! You can't just change subjects on me like that, you know this!"

"Oh, sorry, Theresa. I mean- Theresa is across the street and looks like she needs help." Randy explained, pointing to where the girl was now walking after making it successfully to the other side of the road.

"Cunningham, you just stood in line for four hours and you're about to leave because you don't think women can hold bags?!"

"What?! No- that's- can't you see she is soaking wet?" Randy responded, arms flailing in the general direction of said drenched girl.

"Well, luckily she's already wet. Otherwise, that fall would honkin' suck!" Howard stated, desperately trying to stay under the moving umbrella.

"Fall-?" Randy muttered as he turned back to look at Theresa, who was currently on the ground and frantically trying to scoop up the contents of her dropped bag.

Randy wasn't sure if hisNinj-stincts kicked in or what, but he found himself handing Howard's snacks back and hopping over the crowd barricades he spent hours behind that morning. Making it to the busy street, the man-on-a-mission didn't bother to wait for the crosswalk sign. Instead, snapping his umbrella closed, Randy weaved his way through traffic. He began jumping between cars, narrowly avoiding splashes, and finished off with a roll over a hood. Only for him to pop the umbrella back open over Theresa's head.

Theresa was crouched with a can of soup in her hand, staring up, wide-eyed at Randy, who was desperately trying to look cool and not winded. This pose was held for a few seconds too long, as no words passed between the two. The awkwardness snapped Randy back to reality as his thoughts ran rampant: "What the juice did I just do?! Did anyone see that? No one thinks I'm the Ninja, right? Anyone could have done that! Why would they think I'm the Ninja? I just wanted to help a friend! Maybe I should say something to her- have I not said anything to her yet?! Okay, she's standing up now. How long has she been staring at me? What should I say? Hm, I forgot how tall she is-"

"Thank you," Theresa spoke.

"Soup."

"Huh?"

"The soup in your hand- I mean, I'm here to help with the soup- I mean the groceries!" Randy blurted.

"Oh, thanks. Uh- I already said that-" Theresa trailed off, her free hand pulling at her wet hair as she looked down at the scattered food.

The next few seconds were spent picking up the groceries. Randy, for reasons he didn't understand, was trying to avoid eye contact with Theresa. Instead, he was trying to focus on saving the items in the deepest puddles first. The bread was thankfully protected by it's plastic covering. The cans were fine too, although their labels would probably warp. However, some fruits and vegetables were bruised or smashed. The umbrella balanced in his elbow, Randy dropped the items in the rescued grocery bag that Theresa held out. With the task finished, Randy was forced to acknowledge Theresa again. Her hair was a disaster, but it appeared as though she attempted to smooth it while Randy wasn't looking. Her mascara ran down her face as she gave a small smile between blushing cheeks. She wasn't wearing her usual school uniform. Instead, she was wearing a small pink T-shirt and a black knee-length skirt. Of course, both were now wet and clung to her body, but Randy used all his Ninja strength to direct his eyes back to her face. She had a knowing look in her eyes, which caused Randy to blush.

"Thanks again for the help," Theresa said. "I have to get going now, though."

"In the rain?" Randy asked, still sheltering them both under his umbrella.

"I mean, I kind of have no choice. Unless you were offering to walk me home?"

Randy was struggling to read the situation. He hadn't intended to walk her home, but then again, he wasn't exactly sure what he intended when he abandoned Howard and ran across the road. Glancing back in that direction, Randy made out the shape of Howard, flailing his arms around and presumably cussing him out for leaving him alone without an umbrella. Randy's hesitation to answer must have faltered Theresa's confidence, for she began to move around him to carry on her way.

"No wait!" Randy reached out and grabbed her arm. "What kind of helpful hero would I be if I let you walk home in the rain?" "Nice, saved it!" He gave himself a mental high-five.

"Great! Uh- I mean- if you're sure" Theresa said, looping her arm with his, removing the choice of backing out.

The body contact was enough to short-circuit Randy's brain, causing him to completely forget about Howard and the new McSneak shoes. "L-let me take that bag for you," Randy added as he took the semi-heavy grocery bag on his other arm. "So, um, where do you live exactly?" He asked, realizing he didn't know. Theresa's blush deepened at the gesture and answered, "It's in that neighborhood near the cemetery, a few more blocks away."

They walked in silence peacefully as they enjoyed the rhythm of the rain. At least, that's probably what it would have looked like to any stranger seeing the "couple" walking down the sidewalk. In reality, Randy's mind was in turmoil. Mainly because he didn't know what was going to happen after all this was done. Theresa clung to his arm as if he was her lifeline, but her face was obscured by her bangs. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was complicated. They could be considered friends, but they weren't close, nor did they know each other well. Meanwhile, Theresa's crush on him had been obvious since day one. Randy, with his life already so hectic, didn't act on her advances one way or another. Did he like her back? Of course he did, but why hadn't he asked her out yet? The idea was almost too overwhelming. Having a girlfriend would wonk up what little semblance of routine and free time he had left. Stringing her along made him feel like a total shoob though. Is that what he was doing? He didn't even know.

Biting his lip, he looked down at the bag he was carrying. Having to go out and buy his own groceries was a relatable feeling to him. With his dad out of the picture and his mom away for business most days, average household chores were left up to him. Well, as many household chores a teen boy with a secret double life can accomplish. It made him wonder why Theresa was doing the job of a parent, too. Again, they didn't know each other very well. It was worth a shot to ask...

"Sooooo, who's all this for?" Randy broke the silence in a normal and not at all awkward way.

"Me...?" Theresa answered, seemingly brought out of her own thoughts.

"All of it?" He joked as he heaved the bag like it weighed a ton.

"N-no! It's for my grandma, too!" Theresa flustered, the joke seeming lost to her.

"Oh, cool, you bring food to your grandma?"

"Kinda. You can meet her if you want," Theresa replied absent-mindedly.

"Oh, ho-ho. I'm meeting your grandma? I am speed-running through this relationship!" Randy teased. "Why the juice did I just say that?! Man, I really am stringing her along-"

"W-what?! I mean- sure, b-but I haven't told her about you yet or anything, so it might be weird..." Theresa trailed off. Ugh, she was so cute when she was flustered. "Why are you having these thoughts? You're the Ninja! The Nomicon would chew me out for this..."

The cemetery was coming into view, but Theresa didn't say when to turn and they kept walking. The rain had become a gentle drizzle and made for perfect cemetery weather. Surprisingly, there were a few people inside standing near some headstones. Although, Randy may have missed them if it wasn't for their large umbrellas. It was a nice moment despite the dark subject matter. Randy's mind drifted again as he thought about other, more fun, dates Theresa and he could go on. He had to quickly remind himself this wasn't a date though. "It could be," a small voiced whispered in his mind. After all, if he had time to stand in line for four hours just for a pair of sneakers, maybe he did have time for a girlfriend. He just needed to take that plunge and stop using his Ninja life as an excuse not to get on with his own life. He tightened his grip on the umbrella handle, bracing himself as he tried to think of what to say-

"Hm, I think I could make this work..." Theresa was mumbling to herself.

"Make what work?" Randy asked, snapping out of his trance.

"I just feel bad because I've of been stringing you along. I'm pretty busy, what with my baton practice and taking care of my grandma. It's difficult to find time just for friends, better less a boyfriend!" She replied matter-of-factly, "But you're right, maybe we should make things official" She finished, finally looking Randy in the eyes. Her big, beautiful eyes, surrounded by black smudge that used to be mascara.

Laughing was probably not the response she was looking for, but Randy couldn't contain the irony. Umbrella in one hand and groceries in the other, Randy had to keep himself from doubling over as his sides ached from the laughter. Theresa, on the other hand, broke away from his arm and looked like she was going to pass away where she stood. "W-wait, is that not what you meant?! You were just joking, weren't you?! Oh my Ninja, I'm such an idiot!" The poor girl looked like she was about to cry at this point.

"No, no, it's not that," Randy breathed between laughter. "I just felt like I was the one leading you on! I never really told you whether I was interested or not. Meanwhile, you've been all over me."

"I have?!" Theresa's whole face was as red as the Ninja's scarf.

Theresa's response made Randy's mind temporarily blank as he tried to figure out whether she was joking by asking that or if she was genuinely unaware that the whole school knew about her crush on him. Luckily, she was able to snap his mind back before it ran away from him again. "Wait, so you are interested, right? I mean, in being girlfriend and boyfriend?" her words trailing off.

Ho-boy, the question when asked so directly made the whole situation overwhelming. Randy wasn't sure if he was happy or not that he left the Nomicon at home today. If it was here now, it would definitely be buzzing and he'd have an excuse to leave. But it wasn't here. It was just him, Theresa, and the steady tapping of the rain on the umbrella. "You gotta say something, anything!"

"LET'S. Go. To. Your. Grandma's." was apparently the strategy he was going with.

"Sooo that's a yes, then?" Theresa hummed, taking Randy's arm back into her possession.

"Mhm," was all the reply she got, but it was enough. Theresa's ability to read social cues may be wonk, but poor Randy was a total open book. Including that silly little secret he kept about being the Ninja. Despite her messy hair and ruined makeup, Theresa beamed the whole way to Grandma's.

#rc9gn #randy cunningham #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #fanfiction #fanfic #story #writing #theresa fowler #fowlham

51 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 9 months

Text

Where We Kept Our Magic (III)

How We Met Again

Hello lovelies! Here is a second part for my Muggle!Reader AU!! I hope you like this new scene, tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x Muggle!Reader

Warnings: none for this chapter

Summary: You and Sirius meet when you’re still young, and yet you fall head over heels for each other. But everything gets complicated when you learn that Sirius is a Wizard! Now, your whole world has to be reimagined. -This series is made of many independent snippets taken from Sirius and Muggle!Reader’s lovestory –

Word Count : 2175

Masterlist for the series - Sirius Black's Masterlist - Main Masterlist

A couple of weeks have passed, and Sirius misses you. And he hates it. He is surprised by it, too. The feeling has come out of the blue, unexpected and unwanted as it settled in his ribcage, carved his way into his heart.

He doesn’t understand it at all. He’s had only a couple of dates with you, spent two afternoons in your company, and this evening at the concert. He doesn’t know that much about you. He doesn’t know how you drink your tea, what you eat for breakfast, the colour of your eyes under the rain. And it’s making things worse, because he wants to know. He longs to ask you what’s your favourite flower and your favourite colour and how you drink your coffee…

And whenever he closes his eyes, he sees yours, wide open, so close to him, staring into his soul. And he can taste your lips on his tongue again, smell your perfume in the air…

He huffs, annoyed. He’s being ridiculous. You weren’t even together, you’ve shared a few hours and a kiss. You weren’t even his first kiss. Was he yours?

He pushes the thought away, sits up as if it’ll help his brain thinking other thoughts. It doesn’t.

“If I hear you sigh one more time, Pads, I’ll hex you so hard you’ll be sent to Antarctica.”

“You really do have to hang out less with Evans, you’re stealing her silly threats now.”

“I want to punch you in the face so hard.”

“Better, sounds more like you.”

In James’s bedroom, the sun pours in golden hues, fresh and clean and too warm. It almost burns, despite its travel through the windowpane.

Sirius is sitting on the ground, and James is splayed on his bed, a novel in his hand that he disregards in favour of his best friend.

“You really have to see her again.”

“Why? She doesn’t want to see me.”

“She doesn’t want a fling. She literally wants to see you too much for the two of you to be a meaningless fling.”

“And that’s impossible. We’ve been through this already.”

“Clearly we need to go through this one more time, because you’re still mopping…”

“I am not…”

“You are. You miss her.”

Sirius remains quiet, his back resting against James’s bed.

“You should try to see her again.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to look, I don’t know her address.”

“As if it could stop the Marauders.”

Sirius can’t refrain a tender smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. You three are as mad as I am.”

“That’s why you love us so much!” James laughs, nudging Sirius with his knee.

“Fuck off, or I’ll break your kneecaps!”

“And risk mom’s wrath? I believe you.”

Sirius merely chuckles, hiding behind a snicker the way his heart inflated with fondness. James isn’t calling Euphemia his mother anymore, but their mom. True brothers…

“She’s a muggle. We’ll leave for Hogwarts in a couple of months and…”

“Yes, I know,” James rolled his eyes. “You kind of repeat yourself these days.”

“It would be too complicated.”

“Perhaps she’s worth the complication.”

“That comes from a guy who definitely likes complications when it comes to girls…”

Sirius doesn’t finish his sentence, he’s hit by a pillow instead.

“Anyway, what I was saying is… you should try anyway. You’re missing her already.”

“That’s the whole point… what if I fall for her? Like… really fall for her?”

“Your life will get immensely more complicated. And you’ll love every second of it.”

“You and your bloody romantic antics…”

“Ha, yes, I had forgotten how our good old Padfoot is full of cynicism these days.”

Sirius checks the time, and he’s happy to offer a distraction from the current conversation. After all, James and he have to hurry up if they don’t want to be late to meet Remus and Peter at Green Park.

Still, when he’s tying his shoes, he’s still thinking about that smile of yours.

Summer is too warm this year, you wish for a fresh breeze to cool your skin, your head and your heart.

You’re still thinking about Sirius. You haven’t said a word of it to Jackie, besides telling her that it was over, that you were right and that Sirius didn’t want anything serious. It was hopeless, it would remain a silly crush on a stranger at a concert.

Your heart has other plans though. Because it aches just thinking about him. You can feel his lips on yours and your skin burns at the memory. You see his stormy eyes over and over again at night.

You miss him. You hate that fact, but you can’t deny the truth of it. You miss him, you want to see him again. Even if it means getting your life immensely complicated, even if it means letting him break your heart.

You don’t talk about it, though. What would be the point, anyway? Instead, you merely look sadder than usual, look at the sun through your sunglasses even if you shouldn’t, and try to breathe despite the longing in your chest.

Jackie has managed to drag you to Green Park, despite your terrible mood. She even managed to make you laugh, God knows how. You’re thankful for it, even if you hate it.

You’re lying in the grass, Jackie by your side is reading while you look through the branches at the blue sky and the burning sun. Your world is tainted pink by your sunglasses. You love it.

The park is busy, but you don’t mind. The unregular noises around you are numbed by the grass under you, the branches swaying gently, the superposition and mingling of voices. In the end, you barely notice the noise at all.

And it’s all relaxing, and for the first time in two weeks, your mind wanders not towards Sirius’s grey eyes but the shape of the leaves above you and you wonder how soft they can be up there, caressed only by the wind, before their fall.

Your quiet thoughts are interrupted though, by a frisbee landing right onto your stomach. You’re startled as it passes before your face and the next second rests on your abdomen; you let out a little shriek, that makes Jackie jump as well.

You sit up in a hurry, fumbling with the plastic toy. Damn, what kind of idiotic twat is clumsy enough to throw their frisbee on people…

You turn around, ready to throw hands with the culprit… when you’re left blinking instead.

A boy in a dark t-shirt is running towards you, freezing as he recognizes you.

Bullocks…

“Y/N?”

Sirius blinks. Once, twice, thrice, but you’re still here, sitting in the grass. He can’t help the smile that forms on his lips.

You look so beautiful, so adorable with your pink glasses…

“I…”

You look down at the frisbee, hand it over to him in a hurry without meeting his eyes.

“Oh, yeah… sorry about that. James is terrible at this game. He’s wearing his glasses, and still can’t aim for shit.”

His attempt at humour is met by a heavy silence and a terrible drop of his heart.

He looks down, cheeks burning, and not only because of his run. He takes the frisbee with a quiet thanks and is ready to walk away again when…

“Hey! Isn’t that your girl, Padfoot?”

You see Sirius wincing as a tall boy with glasses runs to him, half jumping on Sirius’s back as he comes to a stop by his side.

He shoots you and Jackie a grin.

“Hi! I’m James! And you must be Y/N!”

You nod, but can’t seem to find your voice. Jackie introduces herself, struggling not to laugh at you as you steal glances towards Sirius but look away every time his eyes meet yours. Meanwhile, Remus and Peter have joined the small group, introduced themselves, and are now quietly laughing at Sirius’s flushed cheeks, along with the fact that he can’t look away from you.

He's missed you. So terribly. He was a fool. He wants you so badly. He can recall the taste of your lips, and he longs for it now more than ever.

But he shakes himself out of his trance as he hears Remus asking if they can join you and your friend.

“These idiots have never played frisbee before, and I’m tired of trying to teach them. They’re desperate cases, at this point.”

“Thanks, Moony,” James mumbles under his breath, along with something about talent and a weird word… quid… something. You guess it must be a Scottish sport, as Sirius said he went to school there.

Why is he going to a school so far from home though?

You shake yourself. You don’t care. You don’t care about Sirius, about his friends, about their school, or about how the sun shines on Sirius’s magnificent eyelashes. You are about to decline the offer when Jackie grins and accepts… the traitor…

And you hate the rest of this afternoon. You hate it because everything goes smoothly. Sirius’s friends are a little weird but hilarious and nice. And Sirius is a little quieter than usual, but you’ve noticed the way his eyes linger on you, the way he can’t help staring…

And you hate it because you long for his gaze on you. Because you let your eyes drift towards his frame too. Because you feel happy and excited now that he’s near again. Because you want to kiss the cigarette taste away from his lips as he puffs out some smoke.

He catches you smiling dreamily as you look at his earing shining in the summer sun, and you hate the smirk that forms across his features as you shy away under his stare.

Damn, this charming boy…

And the afternoon passes too quickly, too soon already the sun has begun setting, and the park is about to close. You need to go home, and you don’t want to. You need to say farewell to Sirius all over again, and you don’t want to. And you hate him for that…

But as you’re about to part, about to say goodbye to turn around and never see him again, Sirius reaches for your hand, stare too intense to let you escape.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, but nod anyway.

And you hate the look Jackie throws at you, the knowing kind. You hate everything about today. You hate the softness of Sirius’s palm, the gentleness of his hold as he pulls you away from the group, the warmth of his skin spreading under yours.

You hate everything about him. You hate him… you hate him…

When he turns around, a wild strand of hair swings across his cheek, escaping from his bun, and you hate it too. You hate how good he looks right now, how you long to reach out and brush the hair behind his ear…

“Can I be brutally honest?”

He stares at you intensely again, and there’s confidence in his stature, in the way he leans towards you, in the urgency of his tone. Still, his voice trembles.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I want you.”

Your eyes grow round at that, and you hate him. You hate him because you like hearing these words coming from his mouth, because you want nothing but to kiss him…

“I know that last time we… we decided not to see each other again, but… the truth is, I want you. And I… I want us to give it a shot.”

“Sirius, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, but…”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I have.”

You stop breathing altogether, your heart skips a few beats, and you hate it. You hate it so much you want to cry.

“I’ve changed my mind. I want to try this.”

“Are you playing with me?”

“No, I’m not.”

And you hate the fact that you can read in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“I want to try. I like you. A lot. And… these past couple of weeks… and seeing you again today, I’ve realized… I want to give this a try. Let’s go on another date.”

“But Sirius…”

“Give me another chance,” he interrupts you, taking a step closer. “Please… please give me another chance.”

And you want to say no. You want to slap him and you hate him because you’ve been hoping, dreaming of this moment even, and desperately so. And you hate yourself because you want to say yes, and you can’t help the words that pass your lips even if they’re so unbearably unwise.

“Okay,” you nod. “But you won’t get a third.”

He grins.

“Friday?”

Slowly, you nod.

“Friday.”

Before you can ask where you will meet, Sirius has reached up to cup your face, and has crushed his lips to yours.

And as you lose your fingers through his hair and melt into his arms, you love every second of it…

*************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @hells-escapees @cloudbroomblog @omgrachwrites

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black series #hp fanfic #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders fandom #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fanfic #writing #fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

vampyrenn · 2 years

Text

Quiet Night Interrupted (Steve Harrington x F! Reader)

♡ 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 ♡

♡ 𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝕬𝖓𝖔𝖓 ♡

↠ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader ⌈Stranger Things⌋

↠𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: What was supposed to be a date night with Steve is interrupted by Dustin, Annoying brother extraordinaire.

↠𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 1.7K

↠𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: No Spoilers, No Y/N, No Physical Descriptors. Reader is referred to as Dustin's sister who doesn’t share blood with him, so she is not default white or mixed. Steve is a big flirt and Dustin thinks its nasty.

↠𝔸/ℕ: Happy Saturday! I had to repost my last 2 fics since they weren’t showing up in my archive tags, and this is one of them, so sorry for a spam hehe. anyway, hope you enjoy! FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED, THANK YOU!

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I’m honestly kinda shocked you can cook.”

Steve’s counters were cold against the backs of your thighs where you sat on the island, swinging your legs leisurely while he hovered over the stove top, tea towel thrown over his shoulder and watching the Alfredo he was finishing like a hawk. He shot you a dirty look over his shoulder, nose wrinkled, and you giggled, stretching your calf out to poke his side with your socked foot.

“Watch it, Henderson.” He warned, honeyed voice playful and light; empty threats, you both knew. Grinning at his back, you waited until he flicked off the burner and turned to face you to poke him again, harder- Faster than you could register, Steve caught your ankle, giving a quick tug that had you squealing out a sharp ‘Steve!’ while you slid to the edge of the counter, thighs slotting around him perfectly. He ran his thumb over the skin of your ankle, playing in the stubble there and dragging his hand up your calf, smoothing over your knee and coming to rest on your thigh, squeezing gently, and you sighed happily, drawing his molten gaze back to you.

“Hey, handsome.” Draping your arms lazily over his shoulders and drawing him closer, you fluttered your eyelashes at him, and Steve cracked a boyish grin, eyes still trained on your face.

“Hey, beautiful.” he brushed the tip of his nose against yours, lips feathering over your cheek, and you fully relaxed against him, closing your eyes while he showered soft, gentle kisses to your entire face, melting under his wanton touch. “How’s my girl?”

“M’good.” you answered, hooking your ankles around his waist and snuggling closer, “Better now, that you’re here.” you felt his Adam’s apple bob, and your chest warmed with affection.

Work had been stressful lately, your schedule rarely lining up with Steve’s between work, school and impromptu babysitting, and as a result this was the first night you’d been able to spend alone with him in weeks, no kids or world-ending dimensions in sight- Steve had insisted on a quiet night in alone, and you agreed easily- you loved your brother, and the entire gang of smarmy teens to be honest, but sometimes you just wanted to get away from all of it, which was hard to do when he was one of your boyfriends best friends.

Case in point: the loud banging at the door, just as things had been getting good; Steve startled instantly, pulling away and yanking his hands out from under your shirt while you pulled your own out of his mussed hair. You whined at the loss of contact, but the pounding increased in intensity, Dustin’s yelling through the window effectively spoiling the mood.

“C’mon Harrington! I know you’ve got my sister in there you perv, zip up your pants and open the door!”

Steve tilted his head back, groaning in annoyance and you took the opportunity to rain several open-mouthed kisses to the beauty marks there, chuckling breathily against his skin, “You should probably go get him before the neighbors come outside.”

“M’gonna kill him.” He muttered, pushing off of the counter and towards the door, calling out in the direction of the entrance, “Jesus, kid, give me a second!” you slipped back down to the floor, rounding the corner into the foyer just as Dustin came barrelling in underneath Steve’s arm, carrying his backpack in his arms and almost running right into you.

“Slow down, Turbo.” you joked, but he was already pushing past, setting his bag on the kitchen table and starting to open it while you both hovered in the doorway behind him. You glanced over at Steve to find him already looking at you, his lips twisted into a wry smile, and you shrugged as if to say Can’t be helped, turning your attention back to Dustin.

“I’m glad you guys weren’t too busy sucking face to answer the door.” Dustin scrunched up his nose, and you knocked his shoulder gently with the back of your hand, rolling your eyes. You watched as he pulled out a tangle of wires and cords, setting it on the table.

“Don’t be gross, Dustin.”

“I’m pretty sure you two were being gross before I was even in here.”

“Hey dipshit, be nice to my girlfriend.” Steve finally piped up, and you glowered at him; his eyebrows shot up in surprise and he raised his hands in surrender, waiting to hear what he’d done wrong.

“Steve, be nice to my brother.” You scolded, ignoring his weak scoff of betrayal.

“Hold on, how am I the bad guy after he interrupts date night?” He was nearly pouting, thick brows furrowed while his eyes narrowed into slits, and he looked so cute and irritated you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his cheek- he deflated slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your head while Dustin was turned away.

“Blood is thicker than water.” He said over his shoulder, and Steve frowned at the back of his head.

“You guys don’t even share blood.”

“It’s metaphorical blood, dude.”

“That doesn’t make any sense-“

“As fascinating as this is,” you interrupted them, knowing they’d talk each other in stupid circles all night if you let them, “I wanna know what you came all the way over here for.”

Dustin’s eyes sparkled, and he gestured to the mess of plastic and wire in front of you. Steve wrapped his arms around your torso and peered over your shoulder, and you wondered if he was trying to subtly get some cuddles in before Dustin put him to work on his project. You could see your little brother's side-eye, glancing at Steve’s arms molding around you, nose slightly upturned- but for some reason he decided not to say anything, just looked away and launched into his explanation.

Maybe the little geek actually felt bad about interrupting your ‘quiet night in’ with Steve. Yeah, right.

“So, I was trying to increase the range of our sat phones, for emergencies, and I was thinking it would help to get a dish up somewhere high,” He dug into his bag again-the thing was like a pocket dimension with how much shit he carried in there- and pulled out a shockingly wide, clearly homemade satellite dish. “And I thought ‘Hey, Harrington has a pretty big house and nothing better to do, and my sister!’ So here I am.”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh, letting go of your waist to step around you and to the table, grabbing the makeshift satellite and starting upstairs, Dustin following quickly behind. You’d known the second he showed up he’d get whatever he asked- Steve could never say no to him, and you couldn’t say no to Steve.

“You just want it on the roof?”

“Yep. Then I’ll be outta your way, and you two can stare into each other's eyes or whatever you sickos do.”

“Big talk from the kid who kisses the phone receiver every night.” Steve barked out a laugh, already halfway through the window he was using the climb up, and Dustin glared at you; you flipped his cap off of his head, relishing in his squawk while Steve helped you up, holding onto your hip with one hand as you wobbled. Once you were balanced, he pulled Dustin through, kneeling down and unceremoniously dumping the tools on the roof, clearly eager to finish.

“Asshole, those are delicate!”

“ Yeah, yeah, let’s get this done, Henderson. I’ve got a hot date.” Steve glanced up at you briefly, winking, and you shook your head disapprovingly, biting your lip to hide the smile you knew he’d already seen.

“Ew, man.”

Despite their constant bickering, Watching the two boys work together was actually quite a sight; Dustin was pointing out the different parts of his satellite, talking animatedly about how he’d built it or what problem he’d managed to fix where, and Steve was nodding along, casual and joking but surprisingly invested in his rambling, and suddenly you felt choked up and oddly emotional, eyes pricking while you watched the two boys. Your boys, you thought, and the stars seemed a tiny bit brighter.

As much as you claimed to hate how much your little brother and boyfriend got along, it was moments like these- shoulder to shoulder, light jabs and heavy sarcasm, Dustin’s huge grin and Steve’s puppy eyes checking on you every few minutes, his lips round with a content smile- that made you realize how you’d never want it any different.

It only took them ten minutes or so, but you watched the entire time, head fuzzy with affection. Even when you were all off the roof, and Dustin was making himself a plate of your dinner (No manners, this kid,) you felt a million miles away. Before you realized, Steve was in front of you, eyes questioning.

“You okay Bub?” He searched your face, slightly worried, and you breathed out a laugh, nodding, stepping closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. He pressed his palms into your hips, and there was a beat of silence while you processed the wave of emotions that had overcome you. You had no idea how to explain it to him, so you decided not to.

Some things you could keep to yourself.

“Perfect.” You whispered instead, shifting to smile up at him, only to find him already staring, his expression adoring. “Love you.”

“Love you more.” Before he could lean down and suck you into another kiss, reality came crashing back down the same exact way.

“Hey! Harrington! Jesus, Can’t you get off my sister long enough to eat?”

“Yeah, yeah, just having dessert first!” His sweet eyes flashed mischievously, his tongue caught in his teeth as he looked down at you, and Dustin’s long groan of distaste was the only thing that kept you from lurching up to kiss the look off of his handsome face. Dustin sat between you two at the table, Steve pouting over his head towards you the entire time, counting down the minutes until he finished and left.

By the time you were both hoping to drive Dustin home for some actual alone time, they were both passed out on the living room floor, Star Wars playing quietly on the TV.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #renrites #xreader #fem reader

306 notes · View notes

itsbeeble · 1 year

Text

Merry Bad Ending

Summary: He'd been sent to protect you, to guide you, and keep you on the path the fates had set for you. He knew he couldn't get involved with you, it went against everything he was taught. But he can't help it, can't help but love you no matter the consequences.

Genre: Angst, fluff, Guardian Angel!au, Soulmate!au

Pairing: Lee Hyunjae x fem!reader (feat. oc, Eric, Sunwoo, Sangyeon, and I think that's it)

WC: 8.5k (I'm sorry)

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

Warnings: mentions of religion (mainly Christianity); hurt and kinda comfort; age gap (I'm sorry. Reader will be 24 and Hyunjae will appear 25 but is actually a couple thousand years old); major character death; illness; honestly there isn’t a ton of romance it’s just kinda sad (there will still be some); mentions of death; violence; minor injuries; threats of death (Hyunjae gets violent); illness (LOTS OF IT); alcohol mentions and consumption; Idk let me know if I missed something; brief mentions of kind of bad home life; rude friends; swearing; MINORS DNI 18+

Listen to Merry Bad Ending by The Boyz if you want idk

A/N: yall i'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry if it isn't my best work. I didn't really wanna do anything too romantic for this one, so there's no spice this time bjghsugs. I hope you enjoy it either way!

Hyunjae remembered when he was first assigned to you. You were both young— at least, you were. You’d been seven at the time, young, curious, and ready to learn about all the cruel things the world could throw at you. He’d appeared to you in the form of a 25-year-old man. Tall, fluffy brown hair, and a pretty face. He looked so young, and he enjoyed the attention that was drawn to him. He enjoyed seeing the human population watch this young man walk by in black clothes, soaked by the rain as if he hadn’t a care in the world. They weren’t aware of who he was. They didn’t know that he couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t get sick from the rain that was slowly falling from the clouds above them. It always rained when a Guardian began their assignment. Some religions take the rain as a sign that God is angry with them, but only a few know the truth.

This storm is a goodbye, as the angels will not see their Father or their brethren for a long time. Not until their assignment is fulfilled. Nobody knows where they will be until they are finished. No one except for their Father. Hyunjae hadn’t seen his brother, Sangyeon, in over 600 years. He has no idea where he is, and no idea if he is alive. All he knows is that he is assigned to a bloodline and that he has to care for them all until there is no one left. That can take anywhere from 100 to 1,000 years.

A crack of thunder overhead.

Children run to their yelling parents as rain begins to pour down.

He walks slowly, watching you in your little violet jacket and black rain boots. You sit on the mulch, playing with trucks and ignoring the way your little body is shaking from the cold. Hyunjae sniffs, pushing his sopping wet hair behind his ear as he opens the umbrella in his hand and holds it over you. You don’t notice at first, so focused on that old, yellow toy truck that was covered in stains and rain and all sorts of things that would have your parents yelling for you to put the toy down and play on the swings.

Parents. That’s right. Your parents. They should be here with you, why aren’t they here with you?

“Who are you?” You’re looking at him now, big eyes full of curiosity and caution. Good. Your parents at least taught you not to trust strangers you meet on the street.

Hyunjae takes a moment to think. Should he introduce himself yet? Should he tell you his human name or the name his Father gave him?

“My name is Hyunjae,” he flashes a smile at you. Angelic, stunning, everything an angel should be. Your mouth parts in awe. That dopey little lip part that children get when they’re stunned by something. “What are you doing out here all on your own, little bug?”

“I’m waiting for my mommy. She said she would be here soon!” You smile brightly and continue playing with the truck. Hyunjae frowns.

“When was that?” You shrug.

“I dunno. Before school.”

“And…when was school?” You scowl at him.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Mister Hyunjae.” Your lack of trust is amusing. Hyunjae crouches down, making sure that the umbrella stays over your head.

“You don’t ask enough, little bug.”

“Why are you calling me a bug?” You turn towards him finally, crossing your legs and folding your hands neatly on your lap. “Bugs are gross, Mister.” He laughs and you crack a smile.

“Bugs aren’t gross, silly.” He lifts his arms, his hand palm-side down. When he flips his hand over, there’s a butterfly on his fingers, fluttering its wings and waiting to fly. “At least, not all of them. This butterfly is fairly beautiful, don’t you think?”

Your eyes are wide with amazement, and he watches you try to do what he did.

“How did you do that!?” You cry. “That’s so cool!”

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you, little bug.” He pats your head, and you beam at him. The butterfly drifts from his finger, and Hyunjae shifts so you can’t see the small, beautiful creature struggle to reach the large oak tree behind you.

You’re nine now. Two years, and yet somehow he’s never seen your parents. He’s watched every day as you leave your house and trudge down the busy sidewalk to get to your school two miles away. He walks where no one can see him except you, and he watches you look at him out of the corner of your eyes. Hyunjae sees the curiosity and the annoyance whenever you see him, and it couldn’t make him more amused.

“Why are you always following me?” You ask him one day. He’s standing beside you while you swing, giving you a little push here and there. People can see him now, and the mothers are cooing about what a nice young man, playing with his niece. He rolls his eyes at them.

“I’m not following you. You just happen to be going everywhere I need to be.”

“Are you sure? And why haven’t you changed at all?” You ask him. He just smiles. “And also, why couldn’t anybody see you when we were at school? I was talking to you and Eric and he thought I was crazy for some reason.” You stop your swing and kick the dirt with a pout. Hyunjae crouches beside you and puts his finger under your chin to lift your head. There are tears in your eyes, and he frowns at that.

“Why are you crying, little bug?” You don’t speak at first, your lip trembling and your eyes shining. Hyunjae lifts his hand, and when he flips it over there’s a butterfly. A monarch, just like the last time. He holds his hand out for you to hold the small insect, but you just start sobbing. The butterfly, now startled, flutters off toward the road. He watches as a car zips by the poor creature, and he doesn’t see it fly away. When he looks back at you, you’re trying to wipe your tears.

They don’t stop, and he wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you in for a tight hug that you find yourself returning. He feels you shaking against him, feels the tears starting to soak into his crisp black button-down shirt.

“Y/N,” he says your name in a quiet yet stern voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” You sniffle against his chest and he sighs.

“I don’t wanna die like mommy.” His body goes rigid and you pull away from him.

“What did you say?” He breathes out.

“I don’t wa-wanna d-die like m-mommy.” You hiccup and Hyunjae’s eyes become dark with an emotion you haven’t seen before, and he can only pray to his Father that you never have to.

“You aren’t going to, little bug.” He promises. “Not if I can help it.”

That night he speaks to his Father. He finds himself alone in the park, sitting on the same swing you had when you spoke to him.

I don’t wanna die like mommy.

You’d been so afraid when you said that, and he couldn’t help the twinge in his heart. Sometimes it was hard to be a Guardian. You weren’t allowed to stop the fate of your assignment. You weren’t allowed to change details. You could only sit and watch and turn your eyes away when things got bad. Most angels turned their emotions off like a switch, only acting as if they cared for their assignments until it was done.

Hyunjae couldn’t do that. He had promised Sangyeon that, no matter the cost, he wouldn’t turn them off. He intended to keep that promise.

“You asked to see me.”

A voice around him. Not in front, or behind, or on either side. It surrounds him as if it was the water in a lake he’d submerged himself in. He flinches at the sound but doesn’t raise his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Father.” No response, so Hyunjae continues. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about my assignment?”

“You knew everything you needed to know about the girl. Nothing else matters.”

“She’s only a child, and she’s terrified of dying like her mother. How can that be what the fates have intended for her?” Hyunjae keeps his voice level, but his hands are beginning to shake with anger.

“Are you questioning your abilities to continue this assignment?”

“No, Father.” Hyunjae shakes his head and sighs. “I’m just…I want to understand why you did this.” There’s a warm feeling across his shoulders, and he feels his body beginning to relax. There’s a comfort in his Father’s shadowy embrace, one that he cherishes no matter what he feels for Him.

“You will understand when you are both ready. For now, proceed as you were. There is still time.” Hyunjae’s eyebrows knit together and he raises his head at last. The warm embrace has vanished, along with the overwhelming presence that had accompanied it.

“The hell do you mean there’s still time?” He mutters, rising to his feet and taking a few steps forward. “Time for what?”

Hyunjae watches as you celebrate your sixteenth birthday with a few of your close friends. There’s a smile on your face while you cut the cake and open presents, but he can see something weighing on you. He can see the emotions rolling off of you in waves, even when you smile brightly at him.

A storm rages outside your house, and Hyunjae can only imagine what is happening in the heavens above him.

“Are you two dating?” He hears one of your friends ask, but you vehemently deny it. You claim that he’s far too old for you, that he’s just a family friend that’s in town for a while. One of your friends side-eyes him and he raises an eyebrow. He does admit that, in his black attire, he does look mildly intimidating. He understands where she’s coming from and why she’d be suspicious of him.

Hyunjae doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise, keeping his narrowed eyes on you for the rest of the night. As a Guardian, he should be able to gauge some idea of what you’re thinking and feeling. He should be able to gauge your health status, whether you’re sick or not. He senses nothing from you.

He senses nothing and that’s terrifying.

“You okay, man?” Eric is beside him, gazing curiously at the older man that he’s almost positive hasn’t aged a day in seven years. He’s the same height, has the same broad shoulders and chiseled jaw, and his eyes haven’t formed the wrinkled lines many 30-something-year-olds have. He still has that smooth, unblemished skin that looks perfect always.

“I’m fine,” Hyunjae tilts his head to the side, gazing at the younger boy. He eyes the little acne scars on the young boy's face, the dried strands of his bleached hair, and the lankiness of his limbs. He knows the boy will grow into himself. He knows the fate of nearly everyone in this room, save for you. Guardians can’t know their assignment’s fate. They can only guide them down the path they deem correct. Everyone else, though? Their fates are open for practically everyone to see.

Eric, for example, falls into a downward spiral when he’s twenty-five. Mental health is his downfall, and he never recovers.

The girl that gave him a dirty look won’t make it past her second year of college. Poor child.

“What’s your skincare routine?” Eric blurts out suddenly, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow. “I just— your skin is really smooth and I really just want to know what your routine is. I have a lot of, uh, blemishes?” The more Hyunjae looks at the young boy, the more nervous Eric seems to get. Hyunjae smiles at this, smiles knowing that he is, in fact, superior to the human race in more ways than deemed important.

“Just basic cleansers, some moisturizer. Face mask here and there.” Eric nods quickly, foolheartedly believing the lie, and Hyunjae can practically see him making a list of things he needs.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Eric claps Hyunjae on the shoulder, grimacing at the solid impact and the pain that shot up his wrist. “Maybe I should get your gym routine, too. Shit, you’re built like a goddamn brick wall.”

“You shouldn’t swear too much,” Hyunjae sniffs and kicks himself off the wall. “Never know who might be watching over you.”

When your friends leave, you finally allow yourself to sit, and Hyunjae watches as you put your head in your hand and just sit at the small dining room table. The small waves of emotion are becoming tsunamis, and though he can’t tell exactly what you’re feeling, he knows that you’re upset by something. He knows that there’s something wrong, something that he can’t figure out.

“Little bug,” he sits down next to you, his large frame practically dwarfing yours. “Can I tell you a story?”

You look at him, your eyes heavy with emotion. You try to smile, but he can see how difficult it is and places a hand on your shoulder.

“You heard of God, and of Adam and Eve, and Lucifer, and all of them. You’ve heard the Bible stories and learned of the angels that fought against the demons.” You nod and he proceeds. “Have you heard of the angels that stood alongside them? Not the ones that were deemed threats, or ones that everyone could see. Ones that protected them, and guided them along their fated paths.”

“What, guardian angels?” Your eyes are curious again and he smiles. “I mean, I’ve heard people talk about them but I’ve never seen them in Bible stories or anything like that.”

“That’s because they aren’t in the Bible,” Hyunjae explains. “God made it clear from the start that these Guardians weren’t to inform their…people of their existence. Guardians were to play alongside the children, befriend the adults, and take the form of whatever they found their people needed.”

“If they weren’t supposed to be common knowledge, why do you know so much about them?” You ask, and Hyunjae shrugs. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Such a curious little bug,” he nudges you and you crack a smile. A real, beautiful smile that warms every inch of his body. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that even if it doesn’t feel like it, there is somebody watching over you. Someone is here to protect you, keep you safe, and ensure that you’re happy, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I want you to know that maybe your guardian angel is closer than you think, lingering out of the corner of your eye. Just out of sight when you turn your head.”

From his pocket, he pulls out a little box wrapped in violet paper. There’s a bow on the top, black and satiny. Your eyes widen when he places the box in your palm and squeezes your shoulder.

“Open it.”

“You didn’t have to, Hyunjae…” He just shrugs.

“No, I didn’t. But I did.” You smile and gently do your best not to rip the delicate wrapping paper while opening your gift. Despite your efforts, Hyunjae watches you wince at the small tear in the paper.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” he tells you, “it’s just paper.” You shake your head.

“Purple is my favorite color, you should know this by now Jae.” He just sits back against the couch cushion and lets you open the jewelry box he’d gotten you. You look back at him with a confused pout and he just gestures for you to open it.

A necklace. Thin silver chain, and a pendant attached.

A butterfly made of delicately crafted wings. There are jewels attached to the butterfly, creating the wings and the eyes.

“Diamonds?” Your eyes narrow and he feels his heart sink a bit. Did you hate it? “Jae, how did you afford this?”

“Call it a family heirloom,” he lies. “My mother’s.”

“Your mother had a brand new diamond necklace just hanging around the house, and you gave it to me instead of giving it to your girlfriend?” You turn fully toward him and scowl. “Lee Hyunjae you shouldn’t have gotten me a gift so expensive.”

“Why not?” He challenges.

“I’m not worth this much!” It’s his turn to scowl.

“You know that’s not true, little bug. You’re worth far more than you know.”

Hyunjae hovers over your shoulder, watching you bite at your nails while you write your essay.

“I still don’t understand why colleges make you write these things.” His fingers wrap around the back of your chair and you roll your neck. Your head brushes against his abdomen and you flinch away.

“They want to know about us, what makes us good candidates. Now can you read this and make sure it sounds like a sob story?” He rolls his eyes when you push him into the chair and take his position.

You’d written about your mom. About how she got sick when you were little, and about how your dad was basically never there. You wrote about how you would walk yourself to school every day, and walk yourself to the nearby park until your sick mother could get you. Often, you would be at the park until the sun went down and the street lights would come on.

“This is sad,” Hyunjae takes a pause and your eyes shoot to him nervously.

“Good sad or bad sad?”

“Good. Let me finish reading.” You nod and he turns back to the computer screen.

Halfway through the essay, he sees something familiar.

You’d written about him. About how he helped you stay alive through those hard times. How he, this mysterious man that claimed to be a family friend, was the only consistent person in your life. How he helped you grow into the woman that he’d convinced you was real, and that you didn’t have to struggle through life on your own.

“You called me your guardian angel?” His lips twitch into a smile and you laugh nervously.

“I— I just meant that— that you were always there for me, y’know?” You spit out quickly. “You kept me on the right path, even when I started going astray.” Hyunjae’s smile grows and he lifts himself out of the chair.

“Little bug, I didn’t do anything. Every choice you made, every path you chose, that was you. I was just a bit of moral support,” he denies, even though he knows you’re right. Although, you don’t need to know that he’s literally your guardian angel. You don’t need to know that yes, he was guiding you through the motions. He kept your boat from capsizing from even the most dangerous waves.

He can’t take all the credit for your success, even when it was due.

Still, you squeeze his shoulder and place your chin on his shoulder while he reads. His hands are beginning to shake, and he isn’t quite sure why.

“What do you think?” You ask, and he feels your breath brushing against his ear. His skin grows warm.

“I think it’s very well done.” He starts to rise from the chair and you take a few steps back, sitting on the mattress of your bed. He crosses his arms, steeling his body so you can’t see the shaking of his hands, the sweat on his neck. “I think these colleges would be foolish to not accept you.”

“You think so?” You’re hopeful, and he smiles, walking toward you until he’s hardly a foot away from you.

“I know so, little bug.” Your body goes rigid when you feel his lips against your forehead. Your cheeks go ablaze, the heat spreading down your neck. It’s the first time he’d shown this kind of true affection toward you, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it.

He’s still smiling when he pulls back, laughing to himself when he sees your stunned expression.

“You keep working, I’ll go make some food.”

You were twenty-one when Hyunjae finally gave up on stopping you from going to parties. For years he’d forced you to stay home, to “not waste your time getting shit-faced with a bunch of nobodies who couldn’t give less of a shit about you”. He’d caught you a number of times when you tried to sneak out the window of your dorm room, sitting in the tree you were going to climb down in a flimsy skirt and some heels. He’d stopped you from sneaking out the main doors by waking your RA. Anything you could think of trying, he somehow already knew and was prepared to stop you.

“I’m just keeping you safe,” he’d say with a smirk and a shrug. “Besides, you won’t have to sneak out in a couple of years. Just hold off a little longer, focus on your studies, and hang out with your friends at a cafe or something.”

“What am I supposed to say when they ask me why I keep ditching them?” You stomp your foot, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow.

“Tell them your guardian angel said no.” You think he’s kidding, that he isn’t taking you seriously, and that he’s mocking you. He isn’t, and he wishes he could tell you that but he could be killed.

When he finally does let you go, he comes with you and Eric, playing along as your chauffeur and as a guest. You’re a bit too excited, and Eric has to calm you down before Hyunjae puts the car in park. He can see you looking at him out of the corner of your eye, eyeing him up and down. He’s smirking. It isn’t as if he’s dressed up, at least no more than he usually is. A white tee shirt, a leather jacket that’s been left unzipped, some black pants, and black boots. No change from his usual colors, just a bit more style to fit in more with the college kids.

Nobody would question a 25-year-old at a college party. Half the men in the frat were nearing that age anyway, and Hyunjae’s lip curled in disgust when he saw one chatting up a freshman, just barely out of high school.

He feels your arm looping through his, and his gaze turns back to you. You’re talking with Eric, and he sees your arm also looped through his. You want to keep them both close, at least for a while. Hyunjae’s eyes narrowed at the young boy. Since high school, he’s put on some muscle and cleaned up the acne he’d been so worried about. He’d have no problem finding someone to settle down with, and he knows the Guardian watching over Eric is pleased with this.

“…don’t you think, Jae?” You look up at him expectantly, your eyes glittering with excitement. You don’t know he has no idea what you said, and he doesn’t plan on you finding out so he smiles and nods.

“Sure thing, little bug.”

The music is overwhelmingly loud. Not nearly the loudest party he’d had to attend, but nonetheless he hated every second he was in the disgusting house. You and Eric had peeled off in another direction, somewhere across the room and he was on the landing, leaning on the banister with a half-empty red cup in one of his hands. Every time he takes a sip from the plastic cup, he grimaces at the disgusting taste. Human alcohol had become more and more disgusting as the years dragged on. Every time he was dragged to an event, such as this one, he prayed to his father that the drinks wouldn’t get any worse. And, every time, his prayers went unanswered.

“Hey,” a girl appears at his side and he doesn’t even spare her a glance. “What’s a handsome man like yourself doing at a party like this?” She’s too close for comfort, her clothing too revealing for his taste. He scoffs, ignoring her. She keeps talking. “You seem a bit too old to be going to lame frat parties. Shouldn’t you be at a bar or at a club?” Now he looks at her, his eyebrow raised. She smiles, her lips colored ruby red and her eyes flashing with mischief.

“I go to the university.”

“My point still stands.” He sighs, returning to leaning over the banister. You’re talking with a man now, and he picks up bits of your conversation.

My name’s Sunwoo.

Y/N.

What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing at a party like this?

Humans, similarly to their drinks, get less and less creative with time. Recycling the same useless tactics over and over again until someone is desperate enough to fall for it.

Sunwoo twirls a piece of your hair around your finger, and Hyunjae’s teeth grind together at the way you swoon. Of course, you would be one to fall for the stupid comments and greetings. Of course.

“You seem awfully close to that girl.” Hyunjae rolls his eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You should be careful.” Her finger is trailing down his arm now. “You never know what sort of evil will catch up with the two of you.” His body goes rigid and his head snaps to the side.

Her eyes are boring into his, red meeting gold. She’s still smiling, her hand still trailing up and down his arm. Hyunjae bites down on his tongue, rising to stand straight.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses. The demon beside him just continues to smile.

“I’m a warning. Someone sent me to warn you, Guardian.”

“Who sent you?” He yanks his arm out of her grasp, and she sighs.

“I can’t tell you that, Guardian. But you should be careful. They’re watching, waiting. Soon enough, they will take one of you. They don’t care which.” The demon begins to back up, and Hyunjae follows. To anyone around, it may look like she’s seducing him. Bringing him to one of the bedrooms upstairs.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Your brother did.” She shrugs and Hyunjae’s breath hitches. “In fact, he sends his regards from his assignment. The man he was assigned to recently got married and his wife is now pregnant. You should be proud of them.”

“Why do you know Sangyeon?”

“I told you, I’m just here to warn you.”

She’s gone before he can respond, disappearing into the crowd and no matter how he strains his neck, he can’t spot her anymore. But he sees you. You’re alone now, and Sunwoo seems to have found a new interest in a pretty girl by the “bar”. He walks over to you, shoving through the crowd and ignoring those who snap at him.

When your eyes lock on his, that warm feeling returns to his chest. All thoughts of the demon have disappeared, and now his mind is consumed by you. Protecting you, caring for you, being with you, having you.

“Jae?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even with his superior hearing. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him. Your hand is wrapped around his jacket, holding tightly. “Is everything okay?” He isn’t sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the thought of someone hurting you. The thought of losing you. Maybe he’s scared of failing his assignment. Maybe he’s scared of failing you. He isn’t sure, but whatever it is has him drawing to him, his hand tilting your head up. He can hear and feel your heart beginning to pound. Hyunjae feels your grip on his jacket tighten, feels you beginning to stand on your toes.

You’re inches away from him, the two of you tucked into a darker corner of the party with not a soul watching the two of you. His hand is still loosely gripping your chin, the other holding your waist. Your skin is warm to the touch, almost too warm. He watches your eyes, the way they begin to flutter shut and the way you almost seem to lean into him.

His lips brush against your forehead, and you flinch against his touch. He goes to pull back but you keep him close, holding him against you. The two of you don’t move for a while. You just stand in that corner, holding each other as if you’re afraid the other will let go too soon.

You were just barely starting your third year of college when it happened. Just barely starting to live when your life was ripped out of your hands.

See, the thing about illnesses is that sometimes they take time. Sometimes they are slow acting, and you don’t see them until late in the victim’s life. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you don’t get symptoms at all and are able to pass away peacefully. Sometimes those slow-acting illnesses begin to show, but treatments work quickly and they’re able to be stopped.

But sometimes, on certain occasions, that isn’t the case. Sometimes illness strikes out of nowhere, sinking its teeth into the nearest unsuspecting victim. It latches on, feating until there is nothing left but a shell of the person that once was.

You were linked up to monitors, needles sticking in your arms, and a number of nurses and doctors standing around your bedside.

Unconscious.

That’s how Hyunjae found you. You were unconscious, and your skin was pale. Your eyes were sunken in. A doctor tries to make him leave, but there was something in the Guardian’s eyes that had the older man stumbling over his words and averting his eyes.

It was a look of unfathomable rage. Like he had more power inside him, and such contempt for the world that he could cause more damage than the wrath of God.

Hyunjae walked forward, pushing past the nurses trying to protest. In the reflection of one of the monitors, he could see his eyes. They were gold. Not just little flecks, not a shade of yellow that televisions tried to excuse as gold, but pure, vibrant gold. The anger in them darkened them, but anyone who looked into this man’s eyes was struck with awe. With amazement, confusion, and horror when they, past the screaming voices in their mind that told them death was imminent, realized how much danger they were in.

“What happened to her?” The doctor behind Hyunjae stuttered over his words again, and Hyunjae turns around. When he spoke again, it was as if there were millions of voices speaking all at once, overwhelming the medical professionals. “What. Happened. To. Her.”

“We…we aren’t sure yet,” the doctor breathed out, lowering his gaze to the floor. “It— she was brought here by a young man. He said that she collapsed in the middle of a presentation. It could be nothing, we just want to make sure.”

“If it was nothing,” Hyunjae hissed out and there was a swell of triumph when he sees the fear in the doctor’s eyes, “she would not be here, would she?”

“N-No, sir, I suppose not.” The doctor whimpered.

“Fix her.” The order was clear, and the doctor knew without saying that his next phrase was not a threat, but a promise. “Fix her, or I swear on thy God that I will kill each and every last one of you. I will kill you, and I will kill your families, and I will kill anyone that you have even passed on the street if that’s what it takes for you to comprehend the importance of this.”

“Calm yourself, Hyunjae.” A hand on his shoulder, and he feels something inside of him jolt. His heart, maybe. He can feel it beginning to pound, can feel his lungs empty of air. “We don’t need any accidents today.”

For a moment, he just stands there frozen. He doesn’t know if he should turn around. Doesn’t know if he should react positively or negatively. Hyunjae’s heart is pounding, and for that moment he stands frozen, the fear and the anger begin to kick in.

“Sangyeon,” Hyunjae breathes out. His brother is smiling when he turns around. He’s smiling, and healthy, and he’s alive. “You’re…you’re here? But— but how did you— how are you—”

The doctors have left the room, and he can hear them whispering amongst each other. They’re debating calling the police, or just leaving him be. Someone picks up a phone, and Sangyeon pulls Hyunjae to the side, ducking into an empty hospital room and shutting the door.

“How are you here?” Hyunjae hisses, pushing his brother back against the wall. There’s pain in his voice. Fear, even. There’s no possible way that Sangyeon could have found him. Guardians can’t track each other. They have no way of finding each other when on assignments.

“You have to know the truth.” Sangyeon doesn’t push his younger brother away, just lets himself be shoved against the wall with a strong hand digging into his chest. Something warm is beginning to burn against his skin, and he bites down on his tongue to numb the pain. “Someone had to tell you, and it wasn’t going to be our Father.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae pulls his hand away when smoke begins to rise from under his palm, tightening his hand into a fist to cool himself off. “What truth?”

“About this assignment. Didn’t she warn you?” The door behind them opens and closes, and Hyunjae whips around. His hands are glowing, radiating with heat that begins the catch on the fabric of the bed next to him. The woman— the demon he’d met just a year prior stands with her body leaning against the wall. She’s dressed in a nurse’s garb, his lips curled into that same smirk that he’d dreaded.

“I tried, but your father must be a very convincing man.” Sangyeon smiles sadly, beckoning for her to join him. She tucks herself under his arm, practically wrapping her body around him. A lump is forming in Hyunjae’s throat, and his vision beginning to swim.

“What the hell is going on?” Sangyeon frowns, taking a step toward his younger brother. Hyunjae takes a step back. “Why are you…brother, why are you with this creature?” The demon scoffs.

“Creature? I would hardly call myself a creature, you stupid Guardian—”

“Hye-Ri,” Sangyeon interrupts, “that’s enough. Let me talk.” Hye-Ri’s lips purse and she takes a small step back. The older angel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jae, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Everything Father has told you up until now has been a lie.” Hyunjae bites his tongue, fighting the urge to argue with his brother. He might not believe Sangyeon, but he will not disrespect his brother. “He’s told you that this is just an assignment, that you need to guide her down the right path until she passes, is that correct?”

“Yes.” He keeps his response short and Sangyeon nods.

“He lied. This isn’t an assignment. This is a slaughter.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae asks. “A slaughter?”

“Her mother wasn’t supposed to die,” Hye-Ri informs him, and his eyes narrow on her. “Sangyeon here was the woman’s guardian. She was supposed to live a long, fruitful life, but your Father fed her a disease. An angelic disease.”

“The same one Y/N has now.” Sangyeon nods and Hyunjae exhales heavily. “You said this was a slaughter?”

“Y/N is…different from what you’re used to. I’m sure you’ve noticed that you can’t get a reading on her. That you can’t quite understand her like you can other people.” Hyunjae just nods, and Sangyeon continues. “That’s because she’s a Link.”

“A what?”

“Think of Links as soulmates,” Hye-Ri explains. “Links basically latch onto an angel, guardian or not, and link them to the human realm. Not a very creative name, but it does the trick.”

“Stay on track, Hye-Ri.”

“Right,” the demon nods, “your Father isn’t sure where it started, or with whom, but he intends to wipe out any and all links he can find.”

“But…but why does he need to do that? I mean…it can’t be dangerous to have a— a soulmate, as you called them.” Hyunjae gnaws on his lip, folding his arms over his chest.

“Father has never truly loved the human race as he claimed he did,” Sangyeon says. “He despises how we, the Guardians, grow close to them. How we grow attached to them. He fears another rebellion, should one grow too close to an assignment. He fears that the Links will be the very root of his angels betraying him. That his angels and these Links will produce heirs that are powerful enough to take down even himself.”

“So Y/N…” Hyunjae’s voice is trembling more than he’d like to admit. “She’s my…she’s my Link? My soulmate?” He receives a sad nod from his brother and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Father saw you growing attached. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before you began to break the rules he’d set in stone.”

“But I haven’t…I haven’t done anything. I’ve kept myself under control, nothing has happened!” Hyunjae protests. “It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to her.”

“I know.” Sangyeon wraps his arms around his younger brother, feeling Hyunjae’s body shake with rage and fear, and pain. “I know, little brother.”

A crack of thunder shakes the building, and the pounding of rain fills the awful silence of the hospital. It’s surprisingly quiet for this time of day, but nobody would ever say that out loud.

Hyunjae is in your hospital room again, his head lowered and his foot tapping against the ground. A nurse enters the room, flinching when she sees him. Her body remains tense the entire time she takes your vitals.

“Is she getting better?” He asks before the nurse leaves. There’s a moment of silence before he looks up at her. She looks afraid, but there’s sadness in her eyes.

“No. She’s not.”

The door shuts again and Hyunjae lowers his head back down. The beeping of machines begins to overwhelm him. It’s constant, and he begins to wonder if you can hear it too. If you can hear what’s going on around if you’re screaming for someone to hear you and see you and listen to you.

When the door opens again, he knows who it is.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Eric is breathless, his voice hoarse and strained.

“I have,” comes Hyunjae’s monotone response.

“Has she woken at all?”

“No.” Hyunjae looks up again, resting his face against his laced fingers. “No, she’s comatose right now.” Eric’s face twists with pain, and Hyunjae barely flinches when the young boy’s hand collides with the concrete wall. There’s an ugly crunch, and he watches Eric bite back a scream. His knuckles are now bleeding, and his hand already going from red to purple.

“Fuck.” The boy hisses quietly, cradling his fist to his chest. Hyunjae scoffs out a laugh.

“That was idiotic.”

“I know.” Eric sits beside the Guardian, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the pain. Hyunjae eyes the bloodied and bruised fingers and rolls his eyes.

“Give me your hand.” Hyunjae holds out his own hand, palm facing up, and Eric shoots him a look.

“No offense, you’re hot and all, but I’m not into you.” Hyunjae bites his tongue again and continues to hold out his hand.

“I’m not into you either. Glad we’re on the same page. Give. Me. Your. Hand.” Eric slowly stretches his arm out, placing his fist into Hyunjae’s outstretched palm. There’s a soft glow and a few cracking sounds. Eric’s face goes pale, watching his fingers snap into place as if they had never broken. The blood remains on his fingers, and he wipes them with a tissue.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Eric asks, gazing at his fixed hand in amazement.

“I have a number of tricks up my sleeve, kid.”

“Is this the same thing that keeps you from aging?” Hyunjae hesitates before he responds. “And don’t try lying to me. I’m not dumb. At first I just thought your skincare was hella good, but after twelve years of you not aging past twenty-five it kinda gets obvious that there’s something up.”

“You’re not afraid?” Hyunjae asks curiously. Eric shrugs.

“Unless you think I should be, not really. You’ve protected Y/N our whole lives, you’ve done nothing to make me think I shouldn’t trust you. I don’t know who or what you are, but I trust you.”

“Interesting.” Hyunjae sits back in his chair, leaning his head against the wall. “So if I told you I was her guardian angel, you’d believe me?”

“I mean…I guess?” Eric shrugs. “Unless, for some reason, that’s a lie?”

“No, it isn’t. And this isn’t a human disease.”

“What do you mean it isn’t a human disease? Like…this is from Heaven?”

“Mhm. Given to her directly by Father dearest to spite me.” Eric’s jaw drops open a bit.

“God wants to kill my best friend?”

“You pick up on things fast.” His head snaps to the side and he hears Eric hiss in pain. When Hyunjae turns his head back, Eric is sitting quietly, eyes trained on his best friend. “Are you glad you did that? Did that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Keep talking.”

“She’s what we call a Link. She is, essentially, my soulmate.”

“Ew, age gap much?” Hyunjae snorts, his lips curling into a smile. He’d expected Eric to be less accepting of all of this, but apparently, he’d underestimated the boy.

“My Father, God as you call him, doesn’t necessarily approve of Links. He wants to eradicate them all. He gives them diseases, angelic diseases that have no cure in any world. Not in Heaven, not in Hell, and certainly not here. Any medications given are just prolonging the inevitable.”

“So…She’s just…gonna die?” Eric asks, and Hyunjae gives him a pitiful look. “Is there anything that you can do? You’re her soulmate, there’s gotta be something. True love’s kiss?” The Guardian shakes his head and Eric lets out a shaky sigh.

“My brother is…trying to find something. Anything that can help her. We just have to be patient.”

He isn’t entirely sure who he’s trying to convince, himself or Eric or both. He knows that these attempts are futile. He knows that he can’t save you like he’d promised you so long ago.

I don’t want to die like my mommy.

I won’t let that happen.

“We need to consider that she might not wake up.” Hyunjae stares down at the doctor, his hands shaking and his eyes narrowed. “It’s…it’s been two years, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn how long it’s been,” Hyunjae snarls, standing over your comatose form. Protecting you. “We aren’t pulling this plug. Not now, not ever. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

“Sir,” the older gentleman tries to plead, “I understand your frustration but… you need to face that she would be better off just…going on her own terms. Keeping her alive, in this state where she has no control over her bodily functions, where she can’t communicate with us or feel the things that we can, it isn’t good for her or for you.”

He knows the doctor is right. He knows he’s just prolonging the inevitable, he always has. But he can’t let go of you yet. It’s too soon. He hasn’t had enough time with you. Hasn’t had enough time to talk to you, to take care of you, to love you, cherish you, adore you. He hasn’t had time to show you the world, as he’d wanted to for so long. He hadn’t had time to tell you the truth.

Although, at this point, the truth is…unfortunate. His wings had been stripped from his body, his and his brother’s. His rights as a Guardian have been removed. Anything he could’ve used to save you…there’s nothing left. He has Fallen, but he couldn’t be more proud of it. He doesn’t have to hide himself anymore, doesn’t have to fear the man he once called Father.

“Hyunjae,” Hye-Ri stands at his side, her eyes tired. “You know the doctor is right.”

“Shut up, Hye-Ri.” The young demon snarls. Hye-Ri doesn’t snap at him this time. She looks sad, almost pitying him. Sangyeon stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of you do.”

“Lee Hyunjae,” Sangyeon says sternly, “use reason. I understand you’re upset, but you need to understand that your soulmate is suffering and that you are being selfish.”

“Am I not allowed to be selfish?” Hyunjae cries. “Even now that I am finally free from God’s hands, am I not allowed to be selfish for once?” Hye-Ri leaves the room, her eyes lowered to the ground. Sangyeon steps forward. Hyunjae moves even closer to you.

“You are allowed to want things, little brother,” Sangyeon speaks softly, so as not to anger Hyunjae further. “You are allowed to want her. You are allowed to crave more time with her, but you cannot have her like this. You know that.” For a brief moment, Hyunjae wants to scream. He wants to throw the vase of flowers that sits beside your hospital bed, he wants to tear this building down until there’s nothing left but a pile of bricks.

But he doesn’t. He stands there, gazing down at you and brushing his thumb across your cheek. Your body is cold, and when he touches you, you don’t so much as twitch. His hand drops to his side.

“Get Eric. Get the doctor.”

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the beach in front of you. You’re laying in the sand, water washing up to your ankles. The sun is warm on your skin, but you aren’t sweating. In fact, nothing about your situation is uncomfortable. You’re at peace, more comfortable than you think you’ve ever been.

The second thing you notice is that you’re in nothing but a bathing suit and a beach cover. You don’t remember changing into this. In fact, you can’t seem to remember anything after the party.

“You’re awake,” you turn your head and you begin to smile. Hyunjae is dressed in a simple tee shirt and shorts, two classes and a bottle of champagne clutched in his hands. He’s grinning at you, and you rise to your feet.

“You’re wearing something other than black, I see.” You tease him. He lets out a laugh, and you think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Hilarious, little bug.” He nudges your side, guiding you to a nearby table with two long beach chairs sitting side-by-side. “Come have a drink with me.” You follow him, the beach cover blowing behind you a bit. Your hair isn’t quite tussled by the wind around you, just brushed over your shoulders. Everything is perfect.

Too perfect.

Hyunjae takes a seat on one of the chairs, gritting his teeth when he removes the top of the champagne bottle.

“I always get nervous opening these things. Far too dangerous for their own good if you ask me.” You sit beside him, and he side-eyes you. “I got you your own chair.”

“What if I want to sit next to you?” You challenge. He pauses, and for a moment you think he looks…sad. That moment passes quickly, and he’s smiling again and laughing to himself.

“I won’t stop you then.” He takes one of the glasses and slowly fills it with the bubbling alcohol before passing it to you. You thank him quietly and briefly turn your gaze to the ocean.

“Have you ever seen water so clear?” You ask, half rhetorical and half curious. He hums.

“Once or twice.”

“I didn’t think Heaven would have beaches this nice.” Silence behind you, and you turn back to Hyunjae, still smiling. He’s staring at you, his body completely frozen. You can see his body shaking, the liquid in his glass sloshing up the sides. You take the glass and the bottle from his hands, setting both on the table beside him. Tears are beginning to wet his cheeks, and you reach forward to wipe them away.

“I didn’t…I’m so, so sorry little bug.” His voice cracks and the tears keep falling.

“Jae, you knew it would happen eventually. I did too. That’s just…I just got the shit end of the stick in this life.” You slide closer to him and he lets his eyes close. “Besides, did you really think that I believed you had really good skincare? For almost twenty years?”

Hyunjae wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you as close as he possibly could. You let him hold you, you let him whisper his apologies, and his regrets, and his whispers of I love you, I adore you, I’m sorry this happened before I got to show you the world. You just smile, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his shoulders.

When he pulls away from you at last, his cheeks are red and stained with tears. You’re still smiling, assuring him that everything is okay.

“So,” you raise the two glasses of champagne and hand him one, “what are we toasting?” Hyunjae shakes his head, his smile returning.

“Whatever you want, little bug. Anything you want, I will give you.” You hum, kicking your legs a bit and digging your toes into the sand.

“Anything, you say?” You wiggle your eyebrows and while he laughs, you know that he means every word. You know what he doesn’t have the strength to say yet. I am yours. You are mine. I will cherish you, adore you, and love you how I should have when you were alive. “Fine then.”

“Have you decided?” He turns toward the beach and you do the same, leaning your head on his shoulder briefly. You feel him flinch when you press your lips to his shoulder blade, where you can feel his wings once were.

“I have.”

“So?”

“To merry bad endings, and to you for going against what you’d been raised to do, for believing in me and in your brother.” Hyunjae smiles, tipping his glass to yours. A small clink echoes across the beach.

“To merry bad endings.”

TAGLIST: @hyunjaespresent-deobi @just-here-to-read-01

#itsbeeble #itsbeeble masterlist #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop fluff #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae imagines #lee hyunjae x reader #hyunjae x reader #hyunjae imagines

78 notes · View notes

mikeellee · 4 months

Note

Hi 👋

What are your opinions about mitsuki bakugo and what makes you think that she is a better mother than inko. I agree with you when it comes to this and I think shiggy had the best mum but I do just want you to go into deeper detail about it

Hi @bibibbon

First things first, I'm on my job right now (waiting instructions. I'm on my grace period) but I do have an answer for you.

I want to be clear I don't like the whole trope "slap on his head" even if is 100% harmless and comical. That being said, Mitsuki didn't slap on her son here bc she is EVIL and ABUSIVE. Bk was acting like an ass and she discipline him.

Yes, in real life such action would make people frown but like mha is not real. Plus, Asian moms can be like that. Hell, hispanic mom too.

"Behave or I'll use my sandals/chinelo on you"

I'm latina. I've seen rude kids being threaten by this to behave...hate or love, this alone is not indication of abuse. Its a way to make the kids not act rudely...in my time, there was spooky stories too. "If you do this, the monster will get you" you know? It's a tool. Not expert on motherhood but a mom disciplining her son is not always equal to ABUSE.

Also look at the image I shared...people are hanging up on hating Mitsuki for this panel but like ...her son is threating to beat her up. Look, BK has show to be rude with his mom (if he was being abuse...he wouldn't have provoked her)

*He calls her hag. What mom likes to be called that?

* I remember a short where Bk asks his father why he married his mom and then at the end he said "so you couldn't get rid of her" haha hilarious isnt it?😒 I think this one is in smash. I think.

Also...let's imagine this: IF she was abusing her son...what this adds to the story? Many fics use this trope to justify BK. "His mom was abusive" ok...and what about Izu? Is he not allowed to be angry? Is "Mitsuki is abusive" free jail card?

Also the fics NEVER gave us a reason as why this woman would abuse her son. "Abuse doesnt need to have a reason" I agree in parts, its just if you are to do a story like that usually has a trigger "she lost her job/lost her hubby/was abused as well"

Mitsuki has none of this.

"Why you think she is better than Inko?" Well, she does parenting! As much people may not like "the slap on his head" it's something. Inko does nothing!!!!

On the war arc 2 the eletrical bangaloo...Mitsuki is seen worried for her son "oh no. Its raining you know our son's quirk dont fare well under the rain"

Does Inko knows anything about her son's quirk? Nah. She just weeps and does nothing.

Like Inko is such shitty mom that she lives in an extreme scale. Either fics shows her as LE BEST MOM EVER (read a fic where Inko was OP and her son is still abused and still asks for her to not hurt "kaachan"😒) or the worst mom ever. (One where she was happy her son got a quirk so now she can gave a life. She is going out and is barely at home, in essence abandoning her son, bk calls her auntie and still abuses Izu)

Nao is the best mom. No questions here. I dont like how all the Shimuras arent important.

Also she and Mitsuki are good moms.

The mc ...is saddle with his abuser and a pretty neglectful mom.

Not of the implication "Inko was thin but thanks to Izu being quirkless she got fat"

I dont think Inko has maturity to be a mom...but I see her as a lonely person who wanted to have a family.

She is a pathetic and sad character.

But hey this is a fandom where people say "Shig is so deep" and sigh...what can we do?

#hori is a bad writer #izuku deserves better #inko is a bad mom #inko Midoriya critical #she being abusive didnt even contribute shit to the story #Izu is alone and hurt and no one cares #“mha should have been darker” my god it already is

15 notes · View notes

drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 9 months

Text

Nothing and Everything - Part 5

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, Mentions of hospitalization, PTSD.

Word Count: 5016

Part five: What do you do when the protector tells you to run? What if running isn't the answer? Sometimes logic disappears when all you see is pain.

Previous Chapter HERE

You were really mean.

“Shut up.”

Go back and apologize.

“Shut up, Steven. You don’t even know what was going on.”

He seemed so nice. Who was that?

“Go away. It was no one.”

He looked familiar. Do I know him? Is he a friend? Marc knows him, right?

“Mind your own business and shut up.”

It seemed like it should be my business. What did he want? It felt like he was trying to help.

Jake kept walking. Maybe if he ignored Steven, he’d get the message and go away.

Where are we going?

He focused on the sidewalk ahead of him. They had left the more familiar area of the touristy part of London and were quickly moving to the more industrious areas.

Are you mad at Layla? She’s tried calling twice and texted. You shouldn’t ignore her. You know she gets worried.

As if on cue the phone buzzed again and Jake didn’t even glance at it. He was mad at her. Mad that she didn’t trust him. That she would think that he wouldn’t be able to stop Marc if he even thought about hurting them. Mad that she thought Steven was hurting and he couldn’t do anything about it. Mad that she thought he was a danger to them.

Jake pulled out his phone and switched it off.

Jake, it looks like it might start raining. Can we go home? Layla is going to be upset.

Jake started to run. If he could just focus harder he could block out that nagging little voice named Steven.

The voice grew quiet and Jake at last found himself blocked off and alone. It was just the way he liked it. No one to tell him what he was supposed to do or accuse him of being a problem.

Jake kept going. It was what he did. He got them out of trouble. He moved them to safety. No matter the threat, he was there to get them out.

He didn’t want to see familiar faces or deal with problems that weren’t his. He didn’t want to think about Marc Spector or Steven Grant.

All he wanted was to do what he did best and fade into the background. Jake Lockley was no one.

And if he was no one, then he didn’t have any problems that needed solving.

–

Her mantra of “I’m sure he’s fine” had at one point turned into “I’m going to kill him” and eventually devolved into “He’s gone”.

After her conversation with Jean-Paul on the phone, she had tried to call them all day. When her calls started going straight to voicemail she settled for texts. The first two had been marked as seen but since then, they all sat there unread.

It was just like last time. Him leaving one day, walking out and kissing her goodbye and disappearing.

Steven wouldn’t do this to her. Steven would never let them run off like this.

Layla clung to the hope that was Steven.

So who was running? Marc once more trying to quit his life? Jake, who must have been so angry at her? Someone else who woke up and decided to go have their own life?

Fears that she had thought irrational in the beginning started to fester as the sun went down and the rains picked up.

What if Marc really did decide to leave her? What if Jake hated her so much that he convinced them all to leave? What if Steven was mad at her? What if there really was another in there that she didn’t know about? Would she find them months later in another city living under another name?

She wanted to cry but her fear and anxiety clenched down on her too tightly to even let the relief of tears flow.

She messaged Jean-Paul again pleading with him to find them.

It took him a few minutes to respond this time. “Let them walk it off. They won’t go far. If they are not back by tomorrow I will find them.”

She threw her phone at the couch and screamed. Frustration, anguish, fear, and anger. She wasn’t done. She was so angry. She was angry at herself. She was angry at Jean-Paul. She was angry at THEM.

Angry at Marc for keeping so much from her and taking away her decision to be involved in this life. Angry at Steven for being so wonderful that she had no choice but to love him. Angry at Jake for doing so much and not letting her be the one to help.

She was angry at herself for not asking more questions. For not demanding to know what made Marc wake up screaming. For not needing to know what made Jake fight so violently. For not asking Steven why he cried at night.

She screamed again and sank down. She had suffered loss too. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they understand that she carried her own pain? Pain that was so often ignored because she was doing so much to try to make them happy.

How many times did she tiptoe around memories of her father because she was afraid of Marc’s guilt? She wanted to honor him and instead she swept his life and memories away. She wanted to cry for him and instead she smiled and pretended his life hadn't mattered.

She looked around the apartment. She saw books and decorations and piles and piles of things that were not hers. Things that Steven refused to move. Things that Steven clung to out of fear of being erased. Where were her things?

Stashed into a drawer in the dresser. Pushed aside in the closet. Marc’s things barely made a dent. A drawer full of random items and a storage locker full of dangerous things that he clung to. The only one with less presence in here was Jake, who kept his life hidden away in his car.

It hit her then as she tried to find the life of the four people that occupied this space. The whole system was unbalanced.

They were all broken, her included.

It didn’t stop there. Tears fell as she went to pick up the phone and she dialed Jean-Paul again.

He picked up on the second ring. Always there, always waiting. Clinging to a friend that ignored him, hoping all these years for something…

“You love him, don’t you?” She wiped the tears from her cheek. She was met by silence. “It’s okay. I love him too. It’s never been easy to love him.”

“It’s even harder not to.” Jean-Paul whispered.

The rain outside started to fall harder and thunder gently rolled across the city.

“Please, come spend the night. I don’t want to be alone.” She looked out the window wondering where they were.

“Of course.” Jean-Paul sighed softly and she could hear the sadness there. “They will come back, chérie.”

“I know… But things have to change. I can’t keep doing this.” She sighed and brushed her hair back. “What if they don’t?”

“I’ll be there soon.” He hung up.

The unanswered question hung heavily in the air. The other, unasked question sat in the back of her throat heavily.

What if they do?

–

Keep going.

They walked across the desert, feeling the weight of death dragging them down as they bled out into the sand.

Keep going.

They walked across the stone and earth, feeling the water rise and fill their lungs.

Keep going.

They walked across the slick tile floor that smelled of chemical cleaners and medicine, feeling the drugs pull them down as their legs turned to rubber under them.

Keep going.

They walked through the halls of their school, tired and in pain from bruises hidden by their clothes. They hunched inward protectively as things flew at them, launched by yelling and jeering classmates.

Keep going.

They walked through the museum, exhausted and confused as the haze of missing memories clung to them. Sadness sinking deep into them as their fellow co-workers whispered and stared with such unkindness.

Keep going.

A shaking hand reached out to lift the lid of the sarcophagus, feeling how heavy and impossible to move it must be. Twin fists pounded on the wood. They could hear the pounding down the hall from one another. One cried and screamed, the other remained silent. Always silent. Only one of them would be rescued.

Keep going.

Shock kept the pain away. Cold and squeezing down on them as the second bullet tore into their heart. They could feel the emptiness as blood drained from their vital functions, tearing into their lungs till it suffocated them. They would drown after all.

Marc woke up screaming.

The panic surged through him as he flailed, clawing at everything around him in an attempt to get up and flee. Fingers dug into mug and grit and he felt the smear of water against his face.

It was dark and he could hear the rumble of approaching death. He scrambled to his feet, took three steps then fell off a curb into a stream of dirty water rushing for a nearby gutter.

He lay there for a moment, gasping and trembling. Slowly, the confusion faded and he found himself looking up at the dark night sky. The stars were far away and faded, washed out by the street lights around him and the falling rain.

Marc slowly sat up and took in the state of himself.

He was soaked to the bone, cold, and covered in mud. He felt for the essentials. His wallet was at least in his pocket, but his phone appeared to be missing. He had his keys, but there was no sign of their car nearby.

His palms were scraped up from his recent fall and he had a cut on his elbow that didn’t exactly look fresh but it didn’t look older than a few hours.

He was alive and in one piece. He could work with this. Next step: Where the hell was he?

He slowly got out of the gutter and back onto his feet. “Steven?” He tried, though he doubted very much that Steven had anything to do with this. No answer. With any luck, Steven was resting. Marc had a feeling that if Steven saw their state he’d be more than a little upset.

Marc took a slow breath then moved to the next logical conclusion. “Jake?”

Run. Keep running.

It was more of a feeling than anything. Communication with Jake was difficult for Marc. It came in bursts of images, feelings, and abstract thoughts.

Marc took a moment and looked around. The street was empty except for a passing car every now and then. There were rows of closed up shops and buildings. It all looked a little grim and dirty and Marc suspected they were in a rough part of town.

A bar down the street had a flickering neon sign that buzzed loudly, the only place that offered warmth and safety.

“Wonderful.” Marc took a step towards the bar, knowing it would be a mixed pressing and a curse. He could ask where he was and maybe even figure out why they were there…. And then he could continue to drown.

Jake fought back. Their legs stalled and Marc stumbled as he turned around and started to walk back towards the street.

“Fuck… Jake… Jake stop it!” Marc punched a leg and winced at the pain. “Fine. We’ll just stay out here and catch pneumonia. What the fuck happened?”

They stood still and a flurry of emotions washed over him. Anger, betrayal, and fear.

He saw glimpses of things he associated with Layla and some things he didn’t understand.

“We’re running from Layla?” Marc wiped the mud from his face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

A memory surfaced, quick and violent as it showed him white and bright halls and a chair with straps on it.

Sweat beaded across Marc’s forehead and his heart started to beat faster. “Oh.”

The hospital. The one thing Jake would run from no matter what. Run.

Marc tried to make sense of it. Run from Layla. Run from the hospital. Had Layla tried to have them committed?

It was unrealistic. She would never do such a thing to them. To him. Yet, here Jake was, running.

Marc tried to look at it logically. It wasn’t like it was all those years ago. It wasn’t his parents putting him in a car and driving him there. Wasn’t his parents signing the papers and then leaving him without a word. There were no orderlies there to drag him away and lock him up. No one to drug him and keep him from fighting.

He was a lucid and sensible adult. He was three adults if he was honest with himself. He knew that he could only be held for so long on a committal against his will. He’d looked it up. He knew his rights as a mental patient.

It made him wince that he’d have to look these things up, but the fear never really left him.

Even being committed against his will, they had to have probable cause. Intention to cause harm against himself or others.

Jake didn’t seem the sort and neither did Steven. As far as he was aware, he’d been trying to sleep through any funny ideas that snuck their way into his brain when he wasn’t looking.

He frowned more as the second option came to mind. Self committal.

Jake would never go willingly. He’d burn down the hospital before he set foot in there again.

Marc couldn’t recall signing any forms.

“Steven?” He called out, willing to risk the reserved English man’s wrath to sort this out.

The world blacked out and Marc found himself on a different street, stumbling forward with a determined stride.

Run.

Marc groaned and stopped them, looking around. He recognized less and less. Were they even still in London? The sky was a little lighter. How long had they been walking?

He eyed someone that walked by, bundled up and carrying a large bag.

“Hey.” He mumbled. “What area are we in? What’s the borough?”

The man paused and looked at him suspiciously at first then took in the scraped up appearance and mud. Another traveler of the night.

“Hackney.” The man clutched his bag tighter.

“Cheers.” Marc sighed. “Thanks mate.”

The man nodded then carried on.

Steven was suddenly very awake. Did that man just say we were in Hackney? Hackney?!

The utter shock and disgust was almost palpable.

“Settle down, Steven.” Marc grumbled. “I’m just trying to work out what’s going on. We’re perfectly safe and you know it.”

Safe in Hackney! Steven reached for the front and took it long enough to look down at himself then look around. He was utterly appalled.

Marc took the front back and tried to settle Steven down. “Jake says there was trouble and we had to get away. Do you know what it’s about? Did… Did someone try to put us in the hospital?” He knew better than to accuse Steven outright.

Steven was quiet for a moment as the wheels turned then suddenly Marc felt a mental door slam and his anxiety climbed. He didn’t know what was going on but his nerves were suddenly shot.

All he knew was that it wasn’t Steven that had tried to lock them up, but Steven knew something. Something that Jake had tried to relay to him. There was suddenly a scramble inside and everything blacked out.

Marc came to facing a different direction, walking quickly in a blind direction with the urgency of a man trying to find a familiar location.

“Not in bloody Hackney.” The words slipped out in disgust. “Can’t believe you took us to Hackney. Thought you were the smart one.”

Marc shook his head and tried to push back Steven. “Get us out of here. I want to go home.” Steven continued to prattle on. “Don’t you let him have the body back. I’m going to have words with him once we get home.”

Marc shook his head again and looked around. He had no mental map of this part of London. He’d been all over many of the boroughs, but it was hard to figure things out when it was so dark out, raining, and the landscape kept changing.

As if on cue, he was suddenly running down a different street. “Fuck you. I’m not going back. We have to get out.”

“Stop!” Marc clenched his eyes shut and tried to hold his ground. He was tired and sore and the rain wouldn’t stop coming down.

He didn’t want to be a part of this anymore but he couldn’t stop slipping in. He also couldn’t just leave Jake and Steven fighting for their safety. Steven, who desired comfort and familiarity and Jake who demanded freedom and security.

He gritted his teeth and found a payphone, his fingers fumbling with the controls as Jake tried to fight him.

He pushed in the proper currency and dialed. The phone rang three times before he heard a scramble and thunk before a rushed and breathless “Hello?”.

“Layla!” Steven pushed forward and stumbled across Marc. Jake tried to hang up and suddenly it was like a blank slate slid down over them.

“Steven?” Layla’s desperate voice called over the phone and they blinked slowly, suddenly feeling sluggish and confused.

“I don’t know where I am.” They managed to get out, feeling detached and so far away. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Marc? Are you alright?” Layla sounded afraid. “Are you safe?”

“I’m cold.” They looked down at the body, wondering if it was even theirs. It had to be. It moved when they moved. A hand came up and they stared at the cuts on the palm. “Hackney? I think… Someone is saying Hackney? There’s a… There’s a sign. Someone doesn’t want to say it. A bus stop. Twenty six?”

He could hear someone else in the background talking to Layla.

“Okay. I’ll find you. Don’t move okay? Can you do that? Can you stay there?” She sounded rushed.

They looked up at the sky for a moment, watching the water come down. “I don’t know. Someone wants to go. I don’t know where we’re going. I… I don’t know. I feel weird. I don’t like it.”

“Please. Please stay there. Can you stay on the line? Keep talking to me, okay? If the line cuts off, you have to call me back.” She was out of breath, running maybe?

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be talking.” They were being pulled in so many different directions. It hurt to try to focus. It was exhausting.

“Baby, please? You don’t have to talk about anything in particular. Just… Just hold the phone. Don’t hang up. We can sit in silence.” She was scared.

“I don’t like the silence.” Someone was also scared.

“Okay. It’s okay. Hey, I heard the cubs won a division the other day.” She was fishing. Trying to ground them? To pull one of them out, maybe?

It hurt and they shook their head, desperately trying to clear things. “Stop.” They looked up at the enclosed phone booth. They were floating here in this sarcophagus.

“We need to go.”

“No! Don’t hang up! Just stay here!”

“I gotta go.” They hung up and opened the door, slowly stepping out as the world under them failed to feel real.

The rain was fake. The sensation of their body feeling cold and in pain wasn’t real. It wasn’t their body. This wasn’t who they were.

Who were they? Who was in control? Was it the man that wanted to run, the man that wanted to stay, or the man that didn’t want anything?

They sat down on the curb and stared up at the sky as cars went by and more and more people started to move around them.

Time was unreal as the sun rose and the rain stopped. The light stretched on forever and steam came off their drenched clothes.

“Marc!” A voice floated around them and time jerked forward awkwardly.

“The body hurts.” He mumbled and held up his hands, showing the cuts.

Someone was pulling them up and wrapping something warm around their shoulders. They were pulled towards a car and time jerked, skipping fractions of seconds.

Someone was resisting the motion and someone else was desperate to get in. They turned away from the car and started to walk away. They only made it a few steps before they stopped and stared down at their hands again.

They blurred again and looked at the woman before them with blank confusion. “Please don’t…” He felt so small. So far away. “Don’t hurt us.”

“Oh, Baby… Baby no…” She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, rocking and stroking his back gently. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

They nodded and slowly got into the car, curling up in the seat and closing their eyes as the woman got in next to them and pulled their head into her lap, gently stroking their hair.

Marc felt himself shift and he reached out, desperately reaching for something solid to cling to. They couldn’t do this. They hated this. They hated this sensation. They didn’t know who they were and they didn’t know why they weren’t. This… This body that belonged to no one and everyone.

For the first time in his life, Marc struggled to be real. To ground and fight back.

“I don’t know who I am.” He gasped and clung to Layla.

“Shhh…” She soothed as she stroked his hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe here with me. I love you. I love you so much…” She had tears running down her cheeks and her fingers trembled as they worked through his curls.

Marc nodded and swallowed, feeling Steven start to relax but Jake still fighting. Multiple times they sat up and reached for the door, visions of them jumping out and running filled their thoughts. Each time, Layla gently pulled them back and continued to whisper soothing words to them as Marc jerked back into control and clung to her.

Time was hard to place. The car carried on forever. There was an awkward skip as someone lifted them from the car and carried them. Strong hands and arms that cradled them like a baby. Marc stared up at the face that he felt he should know. The mustache that curled and eyes that carried deep pain and sadness…

“Frenchie.” Marc wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders and rested his head there, breathing in the past. He could still smell the faint traces of places they had once been. The wind and the heat at their backs. The campfires and spices of places they slept in. He breathed deeply, lost in memories and a different time.

The whole body jerked when hot water rushed over their body. He knew it was only lukewarm, but it seared them as it ate through the cold numb layer that he built up over night.

He watched old blood, grime, and mud swirl down the drain until the water ran clear.

Stepping out, they dried off with a soft towel that felt too soft and unreal.

Getting dressed was an automatic motion. Their eyes settled on a window and there was a crash as they climbed the sink and pushed the window open, intending to slide out and crawl up onto the roof.

Marc fought Jake as he still screamed about running. He was furious. Their yelling brought in Layla an Jean-Paul who took hold of their ankles and pulled them back inside, crashing them all down onto the floor.

Marc lay back and stared up at the ceiling. He started to cry. “I don’t want to do this… It’s so hard. So hard to fight. Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to stay?”

He laughed a little at the absurdity of it all. “Just give him the fucking car. Let him go. Let him run away. It’s all we do, right? We run away. Just give him the fucking car and let us go…”

“I can’t do that.” Layla clung to him. “It won’t help anything. He’s supposed to keep you safe, but how is this safe? Look at you all? Look what it did to your body? Look what it’s doing to you! Steven doesn’t want to go! How is this protecting you when it’s hurting you?”

Marc lay there and closed his eyes. He felt Jake shift and slam his fists into the floor. He heard someone yelling inside and then felt so very tired. They were so tired.

Steven sat up and wordlessly got up and walked them to the bed. He crawled across it till he could slip into the blankets and curl up into a tight ball. “I hate you.” He mumbled and clung to the sheets as if it might keep them still. “I hate you.”

The body had had enough and they fell asleep at last.

–

“Sometimes I wonder who this man was supposed to be before the trauma.” Jean-Paul was still laying on the floor, his hands over his face as he decompressed from everything.

Layla sat next to him, staring at the lump in the bed across the room. “I can’t think about that.” She sighed. “The trauma gave me the man that I love. It gave me all three of them, for better or worse… And I feel like a horrible person for being thankful for the pain he had to go through to become these people.”

The night was almost over and they had gotten no sleep. She didn’t think she would sleep after everything.

She couldn’t stop hearing the small scared voice on the phone, pleading for help. Most of all, she couldn’t stop seeing the lost look on his face. She had never seen them get so lost before. So mixed up that they didn’t know who they were.

She closed her eyes and the intrusive thought whispered Do you really want to keep doing this?

“Do you want some coffee?” She got up and went to the kitchen.

“Please.” He stayed on the floor. “If he tries to run again, I will be here.”

Layla turned from the coffee pot and started to make her own special brew that Marc joked would have been useful in the army. They would need the energy.

“Do you think he hates me?” She brought him the coffee and they moved to the table.

“No.” Jean-Paul sipped the coffee. He made a face and looked at the cup then nodded and took another sip. “Marc could never hate you. There is too much love in him, though he would never admit it.”

“I meant Jake.” Layla sank down in her chair and stared at her own mug. It had a cheesy picture of one of the pyramids. She was pretty sure Steven had bought it in the Cairo airport.

Jean-Paul let out a long hum as he thought it over. “No…” He at last relented. “Dealing with Jake is like trying to hold water in your hand.”

“Refreshing on a hot day?” Layla peeked up at him.

Jean-Paul smiled. “So refreshing. It will also slip through your fingers if you don’t do it right.”

“I’ve never seen him like that before.” She sipped the coffee and leaned forward to rest her chin on the table.

“Jake is a hell of a fighter, but he also knew when to run. Marc never knew when to retreat. He’d fight till the end. Jake has had to get them to safety so many times in their lives. Away from situations and away from threats, real or not.”

“I set off his flight response.” She mumbled. “He was trying to get away from me.”

“I’m the one that botched it.” Jean-Paul sat back in his chair and set the coffee down. “His worst fear was presented to him and he could see no other response than to run. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he needed to get them out. Fear is not always practical, you know.”

She nodded awkwardly, chin still on the table. “I’m sorry I put you in that position. I should have just done it myself.”

He snorted. “Please. It was good to know I am better off retired than still in the field. It was also good to see him again and know that I still care very much for them… And if I can help them in any way, I will always be there to try.”

“Thank you, Jean-Paul.” She slowly sat up and pulled her hair back. “Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

“Only if I’m cooking.” He pushed the coffee aside.

She smiled. “I am sorry I don’t match up to your fancy European taste.”

“I think my taste is exquisite. Why else would I have such wonderful and interesting friends?” He glanced back at the sleeping lump in the bed.

“Hm. Interesting is right.” She got up and plopped a pillow and blanket on the couch. “Get some rest. I need to lay down for a little bit. I think it’s not going to get any easier in the morning.”

He nodded and moved to make himself comfortable on the couch, picking out one of Steven’s books of french poetry to relax into.

Layla slowly sank down into the bed next to the sleeping lump under the blankets. She was more ginger this time as she curled up next to it. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him, but not close enough to disturb him. Was this a distance she could learn to respect?

An arm snaked out from under the blankets and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.

Maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe it was time for her to start pushing for her own comfort too.

Part Six Here

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #Layla El Faouly #Frenchie #Jean-Paul Duchamp #This one goes hard #Ever gotten lost because you didn't want to go back?#Sometimes it's hard to admit you don't know where you're going

29 notes · View notes

boygiwrites · 9 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 16

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is the longest chapter yet! Just shy of 10,000 words!

For the first time in forever, we're blessed with a slow day.

The sun crests over the clouds in the early afternoon, glazing the Greene house and its golden paddocks in a soft, buttery glow. Slow once meant boring, but now it means peace. My Dad's awake now, albeit bed-bound, but he's more or less as healthy as a horse. I don't need to keep glancing at his pale form anymore, watching for disaster. Not having that threat of death lurking around the farm makes the air feel so much clearer. I can finally relax a little. I think everyone feels the same relief. There's one less problem ready to strike at us.

Maggie lets me use the guest bathroom to take a hot shower in the afternoon.

After helping me tape a scrap of plastic over my stitches to ensure they stay dry, she lends me some fruit-scented shampoo and body lotion, assuring me she'll be right downstairs if I need anything else. I luxuriate under the warm water for some time, suds-ing up my dirty blonde hair and scrubbing the dirt form underneath my fingernails. I feel my muscles let go of all my tension in real time. It's the best feelin' ever.

I tweak the water off and step out onto the green bath-mat, face to face with my reflection in the mirror.

Last time I got a proper look at myself, I was dying in the back of the RV. I look at myself again; at my healthy, clean complexion.

"Hey," A girly voice calls out gently from behind the door — Beth, I think. "I got you a spare shirt, if you want. Is white your color?"

I look down at myself. "I'm more of a beige color."

She laughs. "No, silly. I meant... never mind. I'll leave it here for you."

After her footsteps recede down the corridor, I fetch the shirt, close the door, and hold it up in front of me. It's a tight, white blouse with frills down the front of it, and two, tiny puff-ball sleeves that each look a little like a lily-of-the-valley flower. I peel the plastic off my side and pull the shirt on — almost a perfect fit, but a little loose — combined with my blue jean-shorts, socks, and yellow rain boots.

I clomp back downstairs and into Dad's room, where he's trying to read a book he found in the bedside drawer, but failing.

It must be a romance. He hates that sort of thing.

I ask him if he wants to do my hair instead, and he agrees to the distraction right away.

With the window wide open to the smells of sweet pollen and farm life, I sit between his legs as he brushes my hair. I'm just so glad he's alright. He gives me two neat braids, ties them off with my hair lackeys, and then I ask Maggie for a pair of scissors so Dad can trim my bangs up a little. She's hesitant at first, but I tell her that my Dad's been cuttin' my hair since, well, I had any hair to cut, and that he's actually not half-bad.

She lends me some kitchen scissors, and I happily thank her.

I make myself comfortable on the bed, on top of a towel to catch the clippings, and I snack on a red apple as Dad cleans up my out-grown, wonky bangs. He tells me he's rusty, but he does a good job. They'd gotten long in our weeks on the road, but they look much better now.

After my hair's done, I kiss his cheek goodbye and head outside.

I find Carl over by the shed. He's playing on the swing that hangs from the burly tree growing beside it in a ray of sunlight.

"Hey, Harley." He greets me, digging his heel in the dirt to slow down. "Want me to push you?"

I smile, "Yeah, okay."

We exchange places, and he gives me a gentle push.

I can see Rick over by the tents, talking to everyone. He's probably sharing the disappointing news that it really was Shane that shot my Dad, so that everyone's on the same page. We're not supposed to tell the Greenes about this discovery. We need to make a good impression, and having a trigger-happy murderer in our group ain't the best way to achieve that. It's better if they continue believing it was Otis that caused all this, otherwise we're gonna get booted to the streets again. I never wanna go back to living that way. We need this place, for Sophia.

I don't wanna talk about Shane, so I won't bring him up.

Nobody's told Carl about any of it, anyway.

"I didn't even know this swing was here." I say as I enjoy the breeze on my freshly washed skin. "This is just like the one I used to have."

"I never had a swing." He muses as he pushes me again. "I miss playgrounds."

"Betcha don't miss school, though."

"Eugh. No." He exclaims. "My Mom still makes me do homework sometimes. It sucks."

I remember doing all those spelling quizzes and math problems back at the quarry. I don't miss it one bit.

I ask him, "What grade was you in, before?"

What grade 'were' you in, Lori would correct me, not 'was'. It always annoyed me when she did that.

"Sixth." He answers. "What grade were you in?"

"I was in second grade."

"Second grade?!"

"Yeah. What grade did you think I was in?"

"I dunno. Five, maybe?"

"I'm eight." I giggle. "You're twelve. We can't be in the same grade."

"But we're friends." He counters. "I've never been friends with someone outside of my grade before."

"Well," I sing-song, "Now you have."

"Even my cousins were the same age as me."

"Mine were all older."

I haven't thought about my cousins in forever. They're all on my Momma's side, from her two brothers. There was Vicky and Tobias, the twins. They were super old. Like, fifteen. Then there was Hunter, and Lillian, and Georgia. I miss them the most. They always treated me nice.

I've never had friends or family younger than me before. I've always been the baby. Even here, that still hasn't changed.

As I'm gazing out onto the distant cornfields, swinging back and forth relaxingly, Maggie approaches us with a friendly wave.

"Hey, y'all." She smiles. "Havin' fun out here?"

We both notice her, and answer, yeah, at the same time.

"Who built this swing?" Carl asks her. "It's awesome."

"My Daddy built it, a long time ago," Maggie fondly says. "When I was just a little girl. Nice to see it gettin' some use, again."

"I reckon I could touch the sun." I hum to myself, looking at the sky.

She chuckles. "Don't go testing that theory. Your Dad would kill us all."

"You wanna play with us?"

"I actually wanted to ask you guys somethin'. I heard from Daryl just now that you found a walker in one'a our wells today?"

Oh, yeah. That ugly thing.

Carl corrects, "Technically, I found it."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be a smart-ass."

"Hey. That's a swear word."

"It's fine. My Daddy don't care 'bout swears."

"I was just wondering which well it was." Maggie interjects. "We've got quite a few around here, and I don't wanna search them all."

"Oh, it was the one near the barn." Carl says, pointing in that direction.

I ask her, "What are you gonna do with it?"

"I talked to Rick about it, and we reckon we're gonna try using a winch to pull it out. Can't have it dirtying up the water."

"What's a winch?"

"It's like a really long, metal rope you can attach to a car." She explains. "We've had ours for years, and luckily for us, it hasn't rusted."

I bring myself to a stop, widening my eyes. "Can we come watch?"

"Yeah!" Carl enthuses. "Can we?"

"Sure ya can. I don't see why not."

With a small cheer, we abandon the swing and follow Maggie across the field, rambling about all the gross stuff we think is gonna happen.

Everyone pitches in to help clear the well, except for Shane. He's off somewhere, brooding.

At first, we try dangling a chunk of canned ham over its head to see if that'll get its attention, but since canned ham don't bleed, kick, or scream when you bite into it, the walker doesn't want anything to do with it. We realize we'll need live bait, and for some reason, everyone's eyes fall onto Glenn. He thinks that's super unfair, but he is all better now, and he does have the fastest reflexes out of all of us.

"Have I mentioned that I really like your new haircut?" He smiles lopsidedly at me, thinking I'll save him. "Really suits your face."

"Don't worry about it." Rick reassures him. "You'll have four of us on the rope. We're gonna get you outta there in one piece."

"One living piece." He emphasizes. "The living part's important."

Dale drives over the car they're gonna use for the process, while Andrea retrieves a thick coil of rope, making Glenn go pale at the sight of it.

Rick and Jacqui start wrapping it around his body.

"We'll give you the winch." Rick says. "Just try wrappin' it around its neck."

He sighs in defeat, "Let's get this over with."

As soon as he's in the well, he's screaming bloody murder.

If not for the suspenseful atmosphere, it would be super funny. Me and Carl watch from the sidelines as Rick, Maggie, Andrea, and T-Dog work together to lower Glenn into the well with nothing more than a rope looped around his midriff to keep him from falling to his death. Dale sits in the driver's seat of Maggie's Subaru, waiting for the signal to start reversing. There's a mechanical lookin' thing attached to the bumper. It looks like a garden hose, but it's made of metal. It must be the winch. The end of it leads into the well.

"You people are crazy!" His disembodied, terrified voice shouts from below. "This is crazy!"

"We got you!" Andrea calls out.

Rick grunts, "Give us an eye, Maggie."

At the front of the line, Maggie peers in. "Doin' okay?"

"Can't believe I'm saying this," His wimpy voice echoes, "But I need to be lower."

"Lower." Maggie parrots.

They all shuffle forward a couple steps — a couple too many steps, apparently.

"Higher!" He shrieks. "Higher!"

The rope strains against the cobble as it's tugged again, backwards this time.

I chew my fingernail nervously.

"Can you get it around that thing?" T-Dog asks, sweating. "Sometime today, please?"

"Fuck you!"

Me and Carl exchange glances, biting down shocked giggles. This is the first time I've ever heard Glenn say, Fuck.

"How's that now, Glenn?"

He takes some time to answer, grunting, "Living the dream, thanks."

"Just get the winch around its neck." Rick coaches calmly, "Easy as pie. Then clip it onto itself, and it should secure."

We wait with bated breath as he wrangles the walker.

After about a minute, he calls out again.

"That's it! It's on! Pull me up! Pull me up!"

"Get him up!"

"Pull! Pull!"

"Come on!"

They wrestle with gravity to lift him back out the well, struggling in unison as Dale reverses. The winch immediately pulls taut. It creaks loudly, mixing with the sound of the engine and Glenn's panicked screaming to create the worst, most cacophonic song I ever head, and I've had to listen to my Dad's favorite music all my life. We cheer them on anxiously, watching closely in anticipation. The grass begins to split under their boots from the force. Just as the rope is about to give way, T-Dog gives one last powerful tug.

"That's it!" He says, "Come on, grab him!"

Glenn scrambles over the lip of the well, panicked, as me and Carl rush forward to help everyone pull him out.

"You okay?!" I ask him.

"God, get me out." He cringes. "Get me out."

As he lands on his ass, soaking wet from being splashed, the walker is next in line to be pulled from the depths.

It gets caught on the edge of the wall like a thousand-pound pinata.

"More force!" Rick orders.

Dale stomps on the gas, making the tyres squeal.

"Come on, you ugly thing." He goads. "Come on."

As the winch begins to cut into the walker's neck, the growling is hitched suddenly, replaced by choking.

Its eyeballs bulge under the pressure.

The engine revs once more, and Rick ushers us out the way. "Get back! Get back!"

All of a sudden, the well cracks and breaks apart around the walker's fat body as it's dragged out onto the grass. Rick's on it before I can even blink. He unsheathes his knife and sinks it into the mushy, water-logged skull with a satisfying squish. At last, the darn thing goes limp.

We all catch our breaths as he stands.

Dale turns off the engine.

"It's uglier in the sunlight." Carl muses, revolted.

No doubt about that. It's disgusting.

Eventually, Glenn deadpans a celebratory, "Anybody thirsty?"

There's a weak chorus of laughter amongst us.

I stand next to Dale and Glenn, watching as Rick and T-Dog drag the walker off the property.

"You know," Dale ponders aloud, "Did they ever mention how that thing fell down there in the first place?"

Mmm... Nope.

No, they didn't.

"This whole farm is fenced off." He continues, thoughtful. "How could a big thing like that just wonder in?"

"Maybe it's been there since before the fences." Glenn guesses. "They might've put them up after everything."

"No," Dale hums. "I was talking to Herschel about it yesterday... He said it was all built in the seventies and they do maintenance every month."

The walker is silently dumped on the ground.

All Dale muses is, "...Strange."

"And then it exploded!!"

My Dad's eyes widen.

"Just kiddin'," I giggle. "Rick stabbed it in the brain."

"I was gonna say." He scoffs. "Explodin' walkers? That'll be the day."

Dad missed out on the action of the well today, so I decided to recount the whole thing to him after. I left out the part about Glenn screaming like a baby goat, though, 'cause I think he'd appreciate that. He's already got enough humiliation for a lifetime with the whole jerky fiasco.

"You really believed me?" I grin, shaking my head. "Actually, I ain't surprised. If you believe in chupacabras, you'll believe anythin'."

He smirks, "Watch yer mouth, girl."

"Whatever." I keep giggling. "I gotta go now, Dad."

"See ya later, baby. Stay where people can see ya."

Carl uses the situation to convince Rick to let him carry a gun. I don't know why he wants one so bad, but he sure is stubborn.

"What if another walker gets in?" He needles. "I need to be able to protect myself."

"Under different circumstances, I'd consider it." Rick explains. "But for starters, I promised Herschel no firearms on his property."

"But—"

"I've also been reassured that this was a one-time thing, Carl. Nothing else is getting onto this farm anytime soon. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worrying." He argues. "I'm just tryna be smart, like you guys."

"You are smart. I know you are. That's why you're gonna let this go."

With a great big groan, Carl rolls his eyes.

From over by the campfire where he's polishing his pistol, Shane throws in his two cents. "Might not be a bad idea, Rick."

He looks over at him. "What?"

"You know we're both certified instructors. Plenty of land 'round here that ain't Herschel's. We could set up a shooting range, see how it goes."

I scoff hearing that, anger rising up inside me.

"Yeah, you'd know all about shooting things, wouldn't you, Shane?" I snarl sassily.

There's a very stiff, very awkward pause between us all. It's lucky it's just us around, and not any of the Greenes. I guess I wasn't thinking, but when my temper flares up, I never think before I speak. That's how you know I'm my Dad's daughter, I suppose. Shane stares at me like I've just slapped him sideways across the face. I glower at him; a seething, hurt look I've never directed at him before, one I know will pain him. He knows he's broken whatever it was he'd built between us with this stunt. He's damn right I don't wanna be his friend anymore.

It's so frustrating that we all know what he did, but none of us can do anything about it. He gets away with everything.

At least I can hurt him with words.

Rick sees that I'm getting angrier by the second and puts a comforting hand on my back.

"Huh?" Carl asks, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Carl." Rick warns.

"No, I wanna know. What did you mean?"

"He shot my Dad, is what I mean." I exclaim, heated. "He was gonna leave him out in the woods to bleed to death. Ain't nothin' more than a murderer."

Carl's gaze snaps onto Shane, a look of betrayal skirting over his features.

"It was you?"

"Carl, it's already been discussed." Rick tries calming him down. "What's done is done. It's over."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Listen, buddy," Shane placates, for some reason looking at me when he does. "Sometimes things just happen. Heat of the moment."

"Weren't no 'heat of the moment'." I shout. "You followed him through the woods for hours!"

"I didn't—"

Carl taunts, "You gonna shoot my Dad next?"

"This is gettin' outta hand." Rick intervenes, standing up from the picnic table. "Come on. Let's go cool off. Both of you."

"I hate you." I call out to Shane as I'm pulled off the bench. "I fucking hate you!"

He doesn't even have anything to say. There's nothing he can say. He ducks his head, unable to look my way, and once Rick gets himself in my line of sight, I can't see his guilty expression anymore and I don't care to. I shove Rick off. He respects that I don't want him crowding me so much and opts for just holding my hand, instead, telling me everything's alright. My eyes well up, lip wobbling. I hate people seeing me cry, but Rick's probably seen Carl cry a whole bunch of times. I don't need to be too embarrassed. He would never judge.

He guides us both toward the side of the house.

"Here." He gently says as we approach a trough of clean water. "Wash your face off a bit. It'll feel good."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." Carl frowns. "Were you ever gonna?"

I splash some water onto my already wet cheeks, catching my breath.

"Shane's been with us for a very long time." Rick confesses, "I didn't know how to break somethin' like that to you, but yes, we were going to."

"What does Mom think?" He pouts.

Rick nods. "She's disappointed."

I dry my face off with my shirt, mumbling pettily, "Murderers go to prison, y'know. They don't just sit around, cleanin' guns."

"What are you gonna do, Dad? Is he just gonna stay here?"

"Do you want him to?"

Carl seems torn on how to answer. "W—Well, yeah, but you don't usually get to choose, right?"

"We do now." Rick tells us both. "Lots of people make mistakes. Shane's definitely made a mistake by doin' this. I recognise that. But things are different. We need each other to survive out here. We need this place to survive. Putting that at risk will be hurting us, too."

"He's sorry, right?"

Rick doesn't know how to answer that one.

"I hate him." I sniff, miserable. "I can't look at him no more."

He gives me sympathetic look, rubbing my back.

"We can't kick him out." Carl worries. "He's our family."

Everybody is someone's family. My Dad's a murderer, and he's my family. That's why I forgive him. I guess that's why Rick, Lori, and Carl forgive Shane, too, even though they're angry like I am. I wish I could have that gene for moving on, but I just don't. Shane ain't my blood.

"Things are weird right now." Rick admits. "I know. But we just have to stick through it for a while."

"Until when?" I demand. "When's it gonna be okay that he tried to kill my Dad?"

"Never." He appeases. "You have every right to be upset with him. I just want to secure our place here, first."

"How you gonna do that?"

"I'm going to talk to Herschel tonight."

"And then what?" I spit sarcasm. "My Dad can have at him?"

"It's tricky, Harley. I can't kick Shane out. I can't kick you an' your Dad out. I can't have you around each other. There's no good option, here."

"When my Dad's all better, he's gonna kill him." I grind out. "That's a good option."

"No, Harley, it's not." He sighs patiently. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Why the Hell not?"

"Because I will not allow murder within the camp. That's a line we do not cross. Ever."

"Then kick Shane out!" I scream in his face, as if that'll make him listen better, turning on my heel and storming away.

With anger coursing through my veins, I search the farm for Shane.

He made himself scarce after Rick forced us to give him some space, but I'll find him. I don't know what I'm gonna do once that happens, but the first step is to find him. Maybe I'll shout at him. Maybe I'll punch him in the face. Yeah, that's good. I'll do that. I'll break his nose, just like my Daddy did. I ask Jacqui if she's seen Shane anywhere, and then I ask Andrea, and Beth, and even Jimmy. They all give vague, unsure answers, but they all mention the direction of the back gate, so that's where I go. I'm an arrow, soaring toward its target.

Sure as shit, I find him on the outskirts of the farm. He's sitting in the neglected, tall grass, staring out onto the distant sunset.

When I see him rub the heel of his palm over his eye, I realize he's crying.

I approach him from behind, not caring how loud my raging footsteps are.

When I'm within ten feet of him, he starts to turn around, sighing, "Rick, listen—"

"It's me!" I shove him harshly, surprising him. "And yer lucky it is, 'cause if I was him, I'd kick you out right now!"

Shocked, he faces me with wide, wet eyes.

"Scratch that, I'd kill ya!" I seethe. "Just 'cause my Dad survived, don't make you any less of a murderer! That's what you are!"

"Harley—"

"I don't wanna hear nothin' you have to say, no more." We're nowhere near the main part of the farm. From here, the house looks like a miniature. The sky is open wide. I can scream all I want, and nobody will be the wiser. "I don't care. You can't say sorry for somethin' like this! Everybody knows what you did, Shane! Rick knows, Carl knows, Lori knows, I know!" My voice cracks. "I gotta live with it! With you!"

I don't care that he's been crying. He could cry an ocean of tears, and I still wouldn't care.

"When my Daddy comes for you," I shout, "I won't stop him. Ya hear me? I won't!"

As soon as my Dad's better, this place will become a hunting ground. As long as one of 'em is alive, the other won't stop 'till they're dead.

A flash of violence glints over his eyes when I say this. This was never his plan. If he had things his way, not only would that bullet have gone straight into my Dad's head, but I'd also probably be mourning in his arms right now, letting him replace what he'd made sure I'd lost.

"I did what I did for you." He snarls, offended. "I did it to protect you. You think this is what I want, Harley?"

"I know it's what you want. You're a fucking murderer."

"Yeah? I want my best friend lookin' at me like he doesn't even know who I am, anymore? I want you tellin' me that you hate me?" His lip curls around his biting words. "That's what I want? I'll let'chu in on a little secret, here, Harley. I don't. This is Hell for me, too!"

I shove him again, but he doesn't retaliate. He takes it; deserves it, even.

"You can't protect nobody!"

I smack him again.

"Nobody!"

"Harley—"

"I was your friend!"

"Fuck!"

I punch him square in his stupid face.

He grunts under the sheer impact, his hand going to his nose. He pants, dumbfounded. His fingers come away wet, red; bloody. I stand there, huffing and puffing, my knuckles sore, as he looks up at me like he doesn't recognise me. His eyes are wide pools of incomprehension. I-I just punched him. I have never in my life punched an adult, before. It feels good. It feels really, really good. It feels better than just washing my face off, that's for sure. Sometimes, two wrongs do make a right. I know, 'cause I'm starting to grin, now. Rage, to me, feels like a medicine.

He gulps, blood trickling down into his gaping mouth. He frowns lightly at me.

"That make you feel better?" He asks without venom, as if he's genuinely curious; as if he's got an idea.

"It did." I breathe. "Made me feel a whole lot better."

He pauses.

Then, he mutters, "Do it again."

"What?"

"Hit me again." He shuffles onto his haunches, presenting his bloody face to me like a prize. "Hit me again, Harley. Do it."

I hesitate at first, not believing this is really happening, but then I see that he's serious. He cups his hands around both his knees, ready to be my punching bag. He raises his chin; takes a deep breath. For once, this isn't a trick. This is plain, raw indulgence. The slithering delight of violence is all mine to take. I feel it building up inside of me again, fighting to be let out. I slowly curl my fist again, rearing it back into the air.

I bring it down onto his face again with a dull, painful thud.

He straightens again.

I lay into him for a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. I think of Dad's unconscious body, the sound of the gunshot, and the way he was tip-toeing alongside death for three whole days. I think about how Shane almost took my Dad away from me forever, and I make him hurt.

By the time I'm done with him, his cheek is already turning an ugly green-brown color, bright blood smeared across his chin.

That's the best thing I've done all week.

He sits back down in the grass, adjusting his jaw, groaning, "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"My Dad." I pointedly spit. "Taught me to punch people who are mean to me."

He chuckles weakly, accepting my punishing words instead of arguing. "Well, you got me."

"This don't change nothin'."

"I know it doesn't." He pants. "No matter how many times you hit me, you're Dad's still a fuckin—"

"I told you I don't wanna hear it."

"A fucking asshole." He finishes. "Hell, he's no better'un Ed was. You— You wanna know the difference between him an' me?"

I refuse to answer, glaring at him.

"I have never hit you." He says, knowing I can't argue with a fact. He's infuriating, that way. "Hate me all ya want, but... I've never hit you."

We stay like that for a strangely painful and gaping moment, face to face with each other's honest presence.

In the distance, we hear people calling for me.

He sniffs wetly, bringing his shirt up to clean his face. "Best you get back, now."

"Harley, where'd you go?"

"Harley!"

As a parting goodbye, right before I walk away, I mumble, "You can't protect nobody."

He doesn't come back to the farm until after dinner.

Rick's a little angry when I return to the farm, but he hears me out.

"I just went on a walk," I fib, hiding my bloody knuckles. "To calm down."

"Are you alright?" Lori fusses.

I smile. "Yeah, I'm... I'm really good."

They glance at each other, but it looks like the matter is already settled.

"Come on, then." He sighs. "Dinner's almost ready."

Lori grabs my clean hand and leads me toward the house.

"You need to reconsider." Rick comes out and says that night, helping the Greenes clear the dining table.

Herschel frowns, "I beg your pardon?"

"Asking us to leave." He sets the dirty dishes down in the sink, and then turns to face him, his arms crossed. "You need to reconsider."

At least he wasn't lying, I think to myself as I finish off the last of my peas. This is him following through on what he promised me he'd do.

"If you saw what it's like out there," Rick continues, "You wouldn't ask. You're a man of belief. If you believe anything, believe that."

"You're putting me on the spot, here, Rick."

He doesn't back down.

"Well, I mean to. Those people out there look to me for answers. I wish they didn't, but they do. That includes Harley."

Herschel glances at me, a soft look in his eyes.

"After everything that's happened," Rick doubles down, "The least you can do is reconsider."

"You're a plain-spoken man."

"I'm just doing what's best for my people." He humbly says. "We've been to Hell and back these past few months. This whole journey started for us when Harley got scratched by one of the dead, right in the beginning. We honestly believed that we were going to have a child's blood on our hands. You don't forget somethin' like that. I know I won't. I know her father won't, either. Now I fear the same thing might happen with Sophia. I know you're a man of good morals, a man of faith. You got two girls of your own. If you kick us out when Daryl's better — before we can have a good chance at finding Sophia — Then this time, I'd say the blood will be on your hands. Not ours."

Herschel is confronted by his words, glancing over at Beth and Maggie, the apples of his eye, as they clean dishes together.

"Will you consider my request?"

"There are... aspects to this." Herschel says. "Things I can't and will not discuss. But if you and your people respect my rules... I will reconsider."

I try not to let my excitement show on my face.

Rick smiles. "We will. You have my word."

Herschel nods. "And you have mine."

Dad's still reading the book when I go into his room that night and change into my pyjamas.

"Dad, guess what?"

He hums.

"Rick got Herschel to think about lettin' us stay longer." I smile, stepping into my sleep shorts. "We might not have to leave."

He lowers the book at that, a sceptical look on his face. "He did?"

"Yeah." I pull on my shirt and hop on the bed, taking out my braids. "You know what that means?"

"What?"

"Shane can get punished, and the Greenes won't care."

As I move onto the second braid, content with this development, I don't notice my Dad looking over me, a dark look in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"What's that?"

He grunts as he sits up slightly, reaching out to grab my wrist. I look down at it, only now noticing a tiny speckle of Shane's blood on one of my knuckles. Damn it. I thought I got it all off when I washed my hands this evening, but I must've missed a spot. I lick my thumb and wipe it away.

My gaze averted, I confess, "I punched Shane today."

"You what?" He scolds harshly.

"I punched him a whole heap of times, actually." I say somewhat proudly. "He let me. He said it would make me feel better."

He looks like he wants to strangle something.

He demands, "Who else was there?"

I realize I might actually be in trouble for this, and I mumble, "Uh... No-one."

"Fuckin' Hell, Harley." He groans, rubbing a hand down his face. He drops it, revealing a deep frown. "You stay away from him, okay?"

"But, you said—"

"Don't back-talk me, girl. You know what he's capable of, and ya still went and talked to him."

"I wasn't nice to him, Daddy. I promise. I was real mad."

"A guy like that, it don't matter." He insists. "He gets in ya fuckin' head, Harley. He already has. Do not do that shit again. Ya hearin' me?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Creepy piece'a shit." He grumbles to himself as he sits back, taking a deep breath. "You remember what I did to Ronnie?"

Chewing my lip, I murmur, "Yeah."

"And how you weren't scared of me, after?"

"Uh-huh."

He nods. "Well, keep that in mind."

"Why?"

"'Cause I told you to. Now, c'mon. Time for bed." He lifts up the covers for me, and after blowing out the candle, I wiggle myself in beside him. This will be our last sleep in the house. Herschel reckons Dad will be able to walk tomorrow, and after that, we're gonna get kicked outside with everyone else. I don't mind. I can't wait to sleep under the stars again. Once I'm comfortable, he offers, "You want me to sing you to sleep?"

I nod, closing my eyes.

His soft words begin to fill the quiet room, a pretty echo of an old life.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word... Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

"He-lloooo, farmer's daughter."

The next morning, I send Glenn an unimpressed look from my seat on the porch.

"Gross, Glenn."

He continues peering through his binoculars at Maggie as she rides up the road.

I roll my eyes and go back to eating my small breakfast of peach jam on toast.

They're going on a run today. Between me, T-Dog, and my Dad's injuries, the painkillers and antibiotics have run out pretty quickly. He's gonna try walking today, so he'll definitely need them more than usual. They're going to check out a nearby pharmacy for more. I asked if I could go with them, but Rick, Dad, and Lori all answered me with a synchronized scolding of, No, so that idea's out the window.

As Lori comes up the porch steps, Glenn startles, trying to hide his obvious spying.

"Oh, h-hey, Lori. Nice morning, huh?"

She raises a brow. "I'm not even gonna ask."

"You got the list?"

"Yeah. Here it is." She hands him a crumpled slip of paper, glancing around, lowering her voice. "And there's one other item on there."

He unfolds it, reading down the scrawled words.

"I wrote it down separately. It's personal. If we could be real discreet about that, okay?"

When he makes it to the bottom, his eyes go wide.

"Uh, s-sure." He promises. "I just need to know where to find it."

"Try the feminine hygiene section."

His cheeks go a little pink, but he nods, "Consider it done."

"What is it?" I nosey.

"Just some lady products." She brushes it off, taking a seat beside me. "Don't worry about it."

Glenn mutters, "Can I ask... Whose—?

"No." She chides.

He nervously gives up on his question. "O-Okay."

Maggie makes it to the front of the house, leading another horse alongside hers for Glenn. He quickly snatches up his backpack and rifle, heading down the steps. We watch as he clumsily mounts the saddle with some coaching from Maggie, which makes us both giggle.

He gets it, eventually.

As they trot down the path together, Lori gives me an amused look. "He's totally sweet on her."

I scrunch up my nose. "Don't put me off my food."

"Sorry," She laughs.

Later in the morning, I join Andrea on the roof of the RV as she stands watch.

Looking through her binoculars, she mutters to herself, "What is he doing?"

I frown. "What is it?"

She hands them to me, and I peer through the lenses in the direction she was facing, met with the peculiar sight of Dale on the border of the farm, kicking a fence post. He continues along the line, giving the next one a firm shake. I lower the binoculars, mildly entertained.

"I think he's investigating." I snicker to myself.

"Investigating?" Andrea looks at me, confused. "Investigating what?"

"He thinks something's up with the fences." I tell her, watching his distant figure move onto the next one. "I guess he means to find out what."

She laughs. "He's gonna break a toe if he's not careful."

I've never known anyone nosier than Dale Horvath.

In the afternoon, Glenn and Maggie return with everything on the list.

Dad insists that he don't even need the painkillers, but he gets forced by Maggie to take 'em, anyway. We wait half an hour for the pills to kick in, and then after some more arguing from Dad's end about how he can do it on his own, he yanks the IV needle out his arm and scoots onto the edge of the bed. With some effort and a few heavy grunts, he manages to get onto his feet, wobbling only slightly.

I cheer him on, making him smile a little.

We trail him out onto the back porch, hovering nearby in case he falters, but he stands strong the whole way.

He breathes in the fresh air. "Almost forgot what real life smelt like."

I pace around the house with him as Maggie and Glenn clear out all evidence of him ever existing in the guest room.

Herschel checks him over one last time and gives him the official green-light to return to life as usual.

We all spend about half an hour pitching a tent and driving over all our chairs, rucksacks, and other belongings to a nice spot on the far reaches of the property, under a patch of healthy, green trees, per Dad's request. It'll make the walk to camp that much longer, but he's willing to deal with it. He makes it very clear that he doesn't wanna be within a hundred fuckin' feet of Shane. Maggie and Glenn express vehement understanding.

"He's like a bomb waitin' to go off, that man." She scoffs, setting the last item, a crate, down in the dirt. "Don't know why you keep him around."

Dad mutters sardonically, "He's popular in the Grimes department."

"Well, if he was in my group," She drawls, "He would've been gone days ago."

"Trust me, I share the fuckin' sentiment." He takes the last bag from Glenn. "I got it."

"You sure, man?"

He grunts uncomfortably as he tosses it into the tent. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't need no babysitters. I'm fine."

"Well, that's everything." Maggie sighs. "Come back to the house for dinner tonight. We're havin' veggie soup and grilled cheese."

"I think I've had more than enough of that house for a lifetime."

"Half an hour won't kill ya." She rolls her eyes. "Do it for Carol. She made it happen, after all. We'll see ya then, okay? Bye, Harley."

"See ya later." I smile, giggling as Glenn flicks my ear as they both walk off.

Dad settles down in his camping chair, hissing.

I ask him, "Ya feelin' alright?"

"Yeah, baby. Just sore. Start a fire, will ya?"

"Sure thing," I say, turning away into the treeline to search for twigs.